Dark Sentiments 2014 – Day 28: Darkness – Literally.
Posted By Randy on October 28, 2014
“Black as six feet up a Moose’s ass,” is a common term here in the Great White North, used to describe conditions so dark you can’t, as we also say, “See your glass in front of your face.” Things get that way in the bush when the moon is less than half full, but also in other places; day or night, inside and out; including of course, six feet up a Moose’s ass.
Speaking for North America, it’s hard for the average 21st century town or city dweller to grasp how recent a thing it is to enjoy the benefit of street lights at night; and even more so, indoor lighting because even in the days of candles and lanterns there were those who lacked the wherewithal to keep the lights on.. Beforehand, the Moon was called the traveler’s lantern, and nobody went any further than the barn or privy after dark unless the Moon was sufficiently in play. Potential for misadventure don’t you know.
In writing her PhD thesis (Dangerous Spaces: Working-Class Homes and Fatal Household Accidents in Suffolk, 1840-1900), Dr. Vicky Holmes looked back to the Victorian era, and with the aid of coroner’s inquests describing cause of death, “… explored daily life and its inherent dangers in urban working-class and rural labourers’ homes.” In the words of the good Doctor herself:
One chapter of my PhD thesis was entirely dedicated to the dangers of the “the staircase.” I had, after my initial literature review, assumed that the two common causes of these accidents would be darkness and drunkenness. Yet, I was soon to discover that the causes of fatal falls were far more complex: in addition to darkness, staircase design, absent handrails, age, infirmity, gender, and even marital status frequently played a role in these fatal events. Drunkenness, however, did not. Beginning with today’s post on darkness and the fatal household fall, I will, over the following weeks, explore the various causes and discuss why drunkenness rarely contributed to the fatal domestic fall.
Naturally though, it was the bit about the dangers of darkness that caught my eye. After all, my stairways are sound, I’m not all that old, and my own extensive research has already confirmed that navigating them whilst in my cups is no cause for concern beyond the risk of realizing on gaining the top of the stairs that I have left my glass somewhere at the bottom. Bugger.
Anyway, returning to the revelations afforded us by the work of Dr. Holmes:
Working-class dwellers were accustomed to moving around their homes in darkness. Yet, despite this familiarity with the dark, the staircase was one part of the home where a lack of light did nevertheless result in a number of untimely deaths. An absence of light was frequently attributed in the coroners’ inquests of Ipswich and the Liberty of St. Etheldreda (East Suffolk) as a foremost cause of stair-related falls, with over half of all fatal staircase falls occurring in the late evening and night-time. In 1847, 77-year-old Samuel Ellis of Woodbridge, upon getting out of bed around 2 o’clock in the morning to let another resident into the house, and ‘having no light fell down stairs, falling with his head upon the flag stones; he was taken up bleeding from the mouth and nose and quite senseless, and died in about 12 hours’.
I invite you to further explore all four parts this enthralling matter of the pitch black staircase here, with a reminder to stay sure of foot good Reader, if not sober.
Spent a few nights with an old friend many years ago, a friend who lived with, and cared for, his aged Grandmother. Totally rural. Lights inside, but no indoor plumbing, just a sink to wash dishes. Canvas bag hanging outdoors for shower. Ancient outhouse for eliminatory functions. First night there, needed to go relieve myself and the friend gave me a flashlight and urged caution as the path to the distant outhouse was made of a number of cement blocks as stepping stones to avoid wet feet when the rains came. Gingerly made my way with the flickering yellow beam barely casting enough glow to see. Reached the outhouse and turned the big wooden peg that kept the door shut. Opened the creaky wooden door. Suddenly i was engulfed in (1) darkness, (2) a horrible series of unidentifiable sounds and the beating of the air all around me, and (3) several mildly buffeting blows against my head and body in the dark. When I shook the flashlight and gained a bit of light I saw that I was surrounded by about 20 chickens! My friend forget to tell me that the chickens roosted in the low trees and that they kept the 50 pound sack of chicken feed secured in the outhouse so no critters would get it. So when our featherd friends heard the door open, they assumed with the proper Pavlovian response, that a kind sould had come to feed them at a special time! I did throw a few handsful out so the poor creatures wouldn't have wasted their efforts, but I suddenly did not need to relieve myself. Golden memories. So to speak.
I’m truly sorry it’s taken me this long to acknowledge, let alone reply, to this. It’s just that every time I reread it, it becomes impossible to type.