Take Frederica. The
heroine, Frederica, is discussing her sister Charis with the hero, the Marquis
of Alverstoke. Charis, she says, is very sensitive, ‘The mildest scold utterly sinks her spirits!’ Frederica wants to
encourage Charis’s paragon of a suitor, Sir Mark Lyncham, who, she thinks, will
be very gentle with her.
Alverstoke replies, caustically, ‘Judging him by myself, I should think he would murder her – or seek
consolation elsewhere! I can think of few worse fates than to be married to a
watering-pot!’
Inside the Garden Museum, next door to Lambeth Palace and once St Mary’s
church
I’d always assumed that a watering-pot was a Regency synonym
for a watering-can – until last Friday, when I visited the newly-opened Garden
Museum in Lambeth and, to my amazement, they actually had an early 19th
century watering-pot.
A watering-pot dating from 1800
This is it and you can see that it’s different from a
watering-can. For a start, it’s rather squat and made of terracotta. It looks
pretty heavy and it’s not a particularly attractive object. The short spout has
what looks like an integral rose. Perhaps it unscrews but I suspect that the
pot was filled from the hole in the top.
I couldn’t help thinking that it would probably break quite easily – unlike a metal watering-can – which may explain why I’d never seen one before.
I couldn’t help thinking that it would probably break quite easily – unlike a metal watering-can – which may explain why I’d never seen one before.
Mid-19th century watering-can
The Garden Museum also had an example of a mid-19th
century watering-can. It is a lot bigger than the watering-pot – and probably a
lot lighter, too. You can understand why they took over from the watering-pot.
The two standing together
The case they were in was somewhat crowded – so apologies
for the photo. The bottom of the watering-can is partly obscured by an early glass
cucumber straightener! I’ve included this photo to show you the difference in
size.
So, dear reader, when you next read Frederica, and reach the bit at the end where Alverstoke tells Frederica that she’d better consent to Charis’s marriage with Endymion because, ‘You cannot possibly live with a watering-pot for the rest of the summer!’ you will know exactly what a watering-pot is.
So, dear reader, when you next read Frederica, and reach the bit at the end where Alverstoke tells Frederica that she’d better consent to Charis’s marriage with Endymion because, ‘You cannot possibly live with a watering-pot for the rest of the summer!’ you will know exactly what a watering-pot is.
Elizabeth Hawksley
9 comments:
Gosh one would need to be strong to use a watering-pot, Elizabeth. It looks as if it would be very heavy when full of water, and difficult to aim. But I suppose hoses were not really a viable option then, were they? We take them and running water for granted now
However, as a writer, I could let my heroine use one now to hit some villain over the head when he is up to no good and caught sneaking around her house!
Thank you for this, Melinda/Sarah. Love the idea of watering-pot as weapon of choice!
Ooh, yes, excellent idea from Melinda there! How amazing to see an actual watering pot as opposed to a watering can. Love this so much! And as I am currently writing a watering pot of a heroine, it is perfect timing to find out there really is one.
Id always assumed a watering can too! And yes, excellent weapon!
Thank you for your comments, Elizabeth and Jan. It just shows that Georgette Heyer did her research properly - I certainly don't remember her ever mentioning a watering-can. Even Wikipedia assumes that they are the same thing. But it's logical, really, that the watering-pot is made of - well - pottery.
What a fascinating post! I always assumed it was just another term for a watering can. Thanks for doing the research and for sharing!
Thank you for joining in the conversation, Bonnie. I'm delighted you enjoyed the post.
Post a Comment