I sat on an outdoor balcony during lunch yesterday, editing some work and eating a salad, and was struck by the sounds of the city – the traffic whizzing by, the rattling chain of an old bicycle, the siren of a distant firetruck, the buzz of a lawn mower, the chirps and tweets of birds, and … almost no human voices. It was late and I was practically alone, and the heat was keeping pedestrians indoors.
Rowlandson's "Buy a trap, a rat trap, buy my trap"
London in the 18th 19th centuries was famous for its noises. The rattling of carriage wheels, the sounds of animal hooves as they were driven to market, and the cries of the street vendors competing with each other created a daily assault to auditory nerves. On hot days, people propped their windows open to capture the slightest breeze, thereby letting in the noise. In Richmond yesterday all I heard was the hum of air conditioners and fans, for windows were kept firmly shut allowing no city sounds in.
Jane Austen moved from the quiet rural life in Steventon to Bath, and I wonder how much the noise and dirt of city life affected her creativity. Some people cannot abide noise while they are writing. I wonder if this was the case with Jane?
Cries of London, "Buy my rat trap," Rowlandson
Captured in many illustrations by a number of artists over the centuries, the street Cries of London are still famous today, though the voices have died down. This illustration by Rowlandson illustrates the cry for rat traps. (My favorite rat trap is my terrier, Cody.) Color illustrations were expensive, much like color printing is today. Even fashion illustrations in ladies magazines came in two forms, color for those who could afford the cost and black and white for the frugally minded.
Today promises to be another scorcher. I will keep my windows shut again and the city noises out.
Click here to read my post about London Street Noises: The Enraged Musician by William Hogarth
Jane Austen's World 
I’m soooo glad to live in a time and place where there is no need for anyone to be roaming the streets hawking rat traps! Something it never occurred to me to be thankful for!
Not just the city noises, but the country noises are quite different today than in Jane’s time. If one keeps one’s windows open instead of shutting them against the summer heat, one hears the distant rumble of traffic and the sounds of jets overhead. In Jane’s time, one would have heard instead the buzz of bees humming in the garden; the calls and songs of birds; perhaps the sound of hooves on a nearby dirt road, and the lowing of cattle, the nicker of a horse, or the baa of a sheep, depending on one’s home’s location. Even the scream of a hawk or the hoot of an owl, depending on the hour, would let the listener know that a bird of prey was out for a hunt. During harvest time, one might hear the calls of the workers in the field and the sound of the scythe through hay.
I know about the screams of prey at night, Lee. Walking my dog in the early hours, I can tell when some unsuspecting creature has been successfully found, for the death scream is eerie.
Very true, Vic. Eerie indeed.
Even more subtle signs await in the countryside. For a while my late husband and I lived in the country — ten miles outside an Ozarks town on a dirt road and very isolated. During our first winter, there was a blizzard that confined us to our property for three weeks — something else that modern-day life has largely forgotten about. When we went out the first morning after the snow had stopped, we found a very eloquent testimony to what had occurred during the night: the prints of feathers in the snow from a single wing, and a few drops of blood from whatever prey it had found on a snowy winter’s night. Such evidence would be lost on a city street in the turmoil of plowing and shoveling, but there in the woods it lingered as a reminder, not just of mortality, but of a way of life largely lost to us — for better or worse.
Love this article Vic.I can just see you relaxing(sorry working) on that balcony, perched above the streets of Richmond.
Tony
I’m curious at what point did they (the populace) stop throwing their chamber pots holdings out the window? In Jane’s time were there still “night soil” men with their wheel barrels?
Eileen, they were still throwing out their slops during Charles Dickens’ time, although the sewers were being laid during that time. Night soil men were becoming expensive during Jane Austen’s time, primarily because they had to haul human wastes farther due to London’s rapid expansion. And thus only the rich could afford their services on a regular basis. Many privies, especially those in common area, were left full to overflowing, with wastes backing into wells, streams, and common water systems. By Charles Dicken’s time, cholera outbreaks were common and London began to seriously tackle the problem of clean water and waste removal.
So while London was an exciting city…it was also a very pungent (is that too mild?) place. And, that also explains why the Ton would leave town for their country abodes during the hot summer months where only the smells of sheep and flowers might be smelled.
I was thinking along the same lines as Eileen. Not only would there be many sounds, but the smells would be horrendous. Wasn’t it you, Vic, that did a post on this a few months ago? I was horrified to think about it all. I think all senses would have been offended!
Indeed I did, Karen. I also wrote about nightsoilmen for suite 101. http://www.suite101.com/content/night-soil-men-the-human-waste-collectors-of-georgian-london-a226849 and in Privies and Waterclosets, A review: https://janeaustensworld.wordpress.com/2010/08/03/privies-and-water-closets-by-david-j-eveleigh-a-review/
Thanks, Vic. That was most interesting. I looked at both sites and a few of the associated links. I notice that none of the fan fiction about Jane Austen’s novels includes any details of these things. Perhaps publishers think readers will be too offended by reading anything of that nature. I don’t like to give it a lot of thought but it was indeed a daily, more than daily, need that all of history shares. BTW, at the suite 101 site I found your picture. You are quite pretty!
Indeed!
My husband and I have several “Cries of London” prints and even a few pieces of china from…the pottery’s name escapes me right now! but it is fine china and quite beautifully done, too. We also acquired a very old set of “Cries” prints while in Savannah. Really lovely prints but if you think about what those poor souls had to do to make an income…I become more grateful for living in the here and now!
I live on Center Street in Ashland (Vic knows where this is) where we have more trains than cars going through town. I keep the doors and windows closed due to the diesel fumes and dust. But I always think of all of my home’s previous owners and how they had to tolerate the steam engines – noisy and full of flying hot coals and ash! Again, I’m so grateful…but it is really very quiet here and quite blissful.
SuSu, I love Ashland! The houses are beautiful and the center of town reminds me of OLD America! Even the railway coming right through the center seems quaint, though I can’t image the shake, rattle, and noise when the trains come through. Thanks for stopping by.
Your articles was fascinating and thought provoking, but I have to say, that I learned as much from the comments of your fans! What a very interesting topic.
Bodily functions will always take a “front seat” in society; even today when one thinks of the resources that are involved in sewer works for every city and town and how many bathrooms the modern house has!
Also, as we age and develop chronic conditions that eventually bring us down, it is our plumbing that often deserts us! Oh, the human condition never changes, albeit, the sounds of the street certainly has!
Thank you for this great post!
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