Money, money, money
Apr. 20th, 2009 07:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
elabyVictorian currency (shillings, crowns, guineas, etc) appeals to me immensely. I'm not sure why; the decimal system seems much easier to remember. There's just something about the pre-decimalization terms that sound lyrical to me. Anyway, because I'm a geek and the idea fascinates me that in the 1860's you could buy an umbrella for twice what a milk-woman made in a week, I wanted to figure out how much Watson's pension is at the beginning of A Study in Scarlet.
I've done some math here; beware.
Watson's pension in 1881 is 11s 6d* a day, which comes out to 3£ 17s weekly. In around 1860, his weekly income would buy a frock coat, or a water-closet (without the installation fees, I can only assume). The disparity between these in comparison to today boggles me.
So, if I did the math right, that means Watson makes 209£ 14s 8d a year. Not bad, but not great; that's within the second lowest middle-class bracket (the middle bracket, in fact - between "under £100" and "£300-1,000") in the 1861 census, exactly 20 years earlier. There were tons of middle class people making less than 100£ a year, but all working class people were classified as making less than 100£ a year as well. This would mean that Watson was making, every year, a bit more than twice as much as a junior clerk second class in the Post Office would make, and if I recall correctly, about as much as a Scotland Yard detective could be expected to make. Not bad, for a pension. And since he was a doctor, it would put him solidly in the middle class, even though you could be a skilled worker (or a policeman) and be making more than that while still be considered working class. Not that we ever doubted Watson was middle-class.
*For those on my f'list not familiar with the abbreviations, s=shilling and d=pence. I was completely flummoxed by this in the Moomintroll books when I was little, no less by the 8/- meaning eight shillings and no pence. I thought they'd made up the currency *laughs*
I've done some math here; beware.
Watson's pension in 1881 is 11s 6d* a day, which comes out to 3£ 17s weekly. In around 1860, his weekly income would buy a frock coat, or a water-closet (without the installation fees, I can only assume). The disparity between these in comparison to today boggles me.
So, if I did the math right, that means Watson makes 209£ 14s 8d a year. Not bad, but not great; that's within the second lowest middle-class bracket (the middle bracket, in fact - between "under £100" and "£300-1,000") in the 1861 census, exactly 20 years earlier. There were tons of middle class people making less than 100£ a year, but all working class people were classified as making less than 100£ a year as well. This would mean that Watson was making, every year, a bit more than twice as much as a junior clerk second class in the Post Office would make, and if I recall correctly, about as much as a Scotland Yard detective could be expected to make. Not bad, for a pension. And since he was a doctor, it would put him solidly in the middle class, even though you could be a skilled worker (or a policeman) and be making more than that while still be considered working class. Not that we ever doubted Watson was middle-class.
*For those on my f'list not familiar with the abbreviations, s=shilling and d=pence. I was completely flummoxed by this in the Moomintroll books when I was little, no less by the 8/- meaning eight shillings and no pence. I thought they'd made up the currency *laughs*
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no subject
Date: 2009-04-23 01:51 pm (UTC)I wonder if it's meant to highlight her modesty and sensibleness or something
I wouldn't be surprised. It baffles me that Watson isn't forced to spend half his chronicling time detailing most all of London (male and female)hitting on the pair of eligible usually-bachelors up at 221B. Perhaps because it's a theme on which he prefers not to dwell :) Does put a new spin on Miss Sutherland's rather ostentatious loyalty and devotion, though, dunnit?
the discrepancy between how much different things cost boggles me
That opera price is insane! Maybe it's a little like the distinction between cost of living today in a third vs. first world nation, only all crammed into London? Victorian attitudes towards poverty make me cringe frequently (the whole point of the workhouses, which were supposed to be charitable institutions (!), was to make unemployment so unbelievably hellish that everybody would, theoretically, give up their lives of sin and idleness and go become moral and hardworking citizens). I wonder sometimes how much income distribution has actually changed from then to now... and then I remember that understanding the answer to that question would require knowing something about economics, and decide that my time would be better spent learning about something more sensible. Like poetry XD
no subject
Date: 2009-04-24 12:24 am (UTC)*cracks up* And there's remarkably little of that, even! It really is surprising. I feel like sometimes Watson (or ACD, whichever you prefer) writes things in a certain way sometimes to be like "Oh yeah, women! I forgot! I notice women! See how I notice women?"
the whole point of the workhouses, which were supposed to be charitable institutions (!), was to make unemployment so unbelievably hellish that everybody would, theoretically, give up their lives of sin and idleness and go become moral and hardworking citizens
Yes! That! Seriously, it is boggling! The whole concept of the "deserving poor," too. You had to be the RIGHT kind of poor person to get any help.
Like poetry XD
My entire experience in school was like that XD Why yes, I am getting a degree studying stuff people wrote hundreds of years ago! Because... I loves it. That's all, really ^^;;
no subject
Date: 2009-04-24 03:15 am (UTC)“Watson, I would of course never presume to question your writing…”
“Really, Holmes, I understand that the precise nature of our partnership requires us to cultivate the art of telling falsehoods, but I would appreciate it if you would choose another victim upon whom to practice. Or, at the very least, you might spare me such egregious lies as that.”
“There, you see! If only you saved that razor wit for your stories instead of using it up excoriating me, I should have nothing whatever to complain of where your writing is concerned.”
“And yet, clearly you do have something to complain about in my new manuscript. I know very well that no power on earth will stop you voicing your dissent, so, by all means, have at it. I invite your comments. I implore your criticism. Do your worst, my dear Holmes—I beseech you.”
“Oh, bravo, Watson, bravo. Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense, so forcible is thy wit. But really, old chap, it’s for the best if I mention this particular quibble before you send it off to that Doyle blackguard who is so eager to claim the credit that ought to be yours.”
“Like you, I do my work for its own sake. In any case, I’m sure you plan to come to your point eventually.”
“Quite. The long and the short of it is, Watson, that you spend three paragraphs of your latest tale enumerating the personal characteristics of Mr. Windibank of the “wonderfully sharp and penetrating grey eyes,” and yet your description of Miss Sutherland does not stretch beyond “preposterous hat and vacuous face.””
“Oh, my dear Holmes, how awfully thoughtless of me. I assure you, my love, next to your eyes his are as dull as dishwater. Positively leaden, truly.”
“Thank you, Watson, but that was not what I was getting at. Don’t you think it would bode better for our chances of avoiding incarceration if you perhaps focused a bit more on describing the lady in the case?”
“Oh. Erm...yes. Except, well, I’m afraid I don’t remember a cursed thing about her.”
“Straw hat, slate-coloured, with a broad brim and an ostrich plume of brick-red hue; black jacket, with beading and trimmed at the edges with little ornaments of jet; dress very dark brown, two seasons out of fashion, with purple plush trim at the neck and the wrist, the latter preserving the mark of her typewriter; gloves that might once have been called dove-coloured, but which had faded to plain grey with many washings and with a worn patch on the right forefinger; black boots, one with a decorated toe-cap and one without, though each possessing twelve buttons; small circular gold earrings; mousy brown hair, round face, pink cheeks, the first hints of a double chin, and the marks from a pair of pince-nez on either side of a rather spotty nose.”
“Show-off.”
“Only for you, Watson. In the published version it ought, no doubt, to be your dialogue rather than mine—it’s your reputation we’re trying to uphold, after all. And then my character can offer one of those backhanded complements you so enjoy writing for me: ‘You have hit upon the method, though you missed everything of significance,’ or something along those lines. In fact, I give you free reign to tamper with my words all you like. Put anything in my mouth that suits you.”
“That was the least subtle bit of innuendo I’ve ever heard.”
“Wasn’t it?”
“You needn’t look so smug about it.”
“And you needn’t look so eager.”
“Holmes?”
“Yes, Watson?”
“That editing can wait for tomorrow, don’t you think?”
“Oh, indubitably, my dear Watson. Indubitably.”
no subject
Date: 2009-04-24 11:36 pm (UTC)That was so wonderful. It sounded a lot like the BBC radio plays in the bantering "your character" and "my character" thing. I love it! Especially this:
âœOh, my dear Holmes, how awfully thoughtless of me. I assure you, my love, next to your eyes his are as dull as dishwater. Positively leaden, truly.â
âœThank you, Watson, but that was not what I was getting at. Donâ™t you think it would bode better for our chances of avoiding incarceration if you perhaps focused a bit more on describing the lady in the case?â
âœOh. Erm...yes. Except, well, Iâ™m afraid I donâ™t remember a cursed thing about her.â
*cracks up* And Holmes with his archaic "iThou hast frighted the word out of his right sense, so forcible is thy wit." (You KNOW Holmes would use "thou" to Watson). *does a dance of joy*
no subject
Date: 2009-04-25 02:16 am (UTC)The "thou" bit is actually from Shakespeare. Much Ado again. In honor of yesterday having been the Bard's birthday, and all.
no subject
Date: 2009-04-25 02:21 am (UTC)Why do my italics tags keep screwing up? O_o Weird!