#early 1700s

[life-imitates-art-far-more]

Bartolomeo Bimbi (1648-1729) "Oranges, Limes, Lemons, and Citrus lumia" (1715) Oil on canvas

[fashion-from-the-past]

1708

[costumeloverz71]

Robe a l'anglaise, 1735.

[blondebrainpowered]

Jane Austen's writing table, ca. early 1700s

This cherished item reflects the impeccable work of Jane Austen, a renowned English writer who created novels like Pride and Prejudice and Sense and Sensibility.

[solcattus]

Portrait of a Lady

By Nicolas de Largillière

[matyas-ss]

Cats by Bamboo and Chrysanthemums, Shěn Quán [Shen Ch'üan, traditional: 沈銓, simplified: 沈铨] (c.1710). Minneapolis Institute of Art.

[wr1t3w1tm3]

This Book has no Title

Okay. So, I had to rewrite basically the last 2/3rds of this due to word being a be-ache but I think I like it more. I'm just going for old-timey enough dialogue (time period is like late 17-augths into the early 1720's), and a full of it female protagonist who is on the forefront of the day's scientific community. This is so gonna get rewritten which is why I'm sharing this online without much fear of AI scraping so...

Without further adue...

I hope you enjoy.

“Have you, Charlotte Rafferty, anything to declare?”

              Had she anything to declare? Of course! The dark, dank cell, chilled despite the blazing Caribbean heat?! The stench which permeated every crack and cranny of the place!?! It is madness!! She could declare how all of it was hell. Yet, this man, a minister of some faith, head of some local church, would take only one answer. An answer she is unwilling to give.

              “Nothing of import,” she retorts.

              The minister scowls and steps forward. His gray-white hair, curled at the shoulder, bounces against his shoulders. “Woman, do you not fear for your eternal life?”

              She smiles and crosses her arms, stepping up to the bars. She is disheveled, her teal dress dulled by dirt and her skin darkened by the same stuff. “Why should I fear something I do not believe in?”

              The cleric stops. For a second, he is silent. Then suddenly, he is upon her, grabbing the bars just as she had. He is seething, his hair shaking “Woman, if you do not believe in it, why do you bring yourself to mock it?”

              “For its silliness of course!” she sets her hand upon her hips. “This god you claim to know so much about is only known by things your mythos claims are his effects. Yet this god is not at all observable by any empirical means…”

              “And this proves what!?!” the reverend snaps. The bars rattle under his grasp, “Does not some invisible force hold us all upon this earth? Is this not observable only by its effects? Does that make this force any less real?!”

              “You forget that gravity has been proven through the scientific method! The effects of this god are chronicled in a book of inconsistent morals and tone that cannot…!!!”

              “Woman, listen to me!” The reverend screeches.

              For a moment, all is silent. Then, with a sudden calm, the reverend whispers “For your own good, would you not risk believing in something that would win you eternal paradise, then remain steadfast in your pride and risk being thrown into the fires of eternal torment?”

              Charolette cocks her head, slightly to the left, and rests her right thumb and index finger against her chin. Her lips purse, then flatten. Finally, she steps forward and grabs the bars. The reverend lets go, suddenly very interested in his death white knuckles.

              “The man who concocted your foolish wager was equally such. A theologian faffing about in philosopher’s robes.” The reverends face hardens as she continues, “There is nothing after this, sir. And in the condition I’m in, I think I’ll be quiet pleased to fall into that nothingness.”

              For a moment, it appears that there are tears in his eyes. For a moment, his lip trembles. For a moment, he stands perfectly still, except the glint along the corner of his eye.

              Then the moment is over, and the reverend straightens his coat. “Well then, make your peace.” He takes a step, pauses, and turns back to the cell “I will be at the gallows tomorrow should your persuasions change.”

              “I doubt it.” She calls after him. The reverend rounds the corner and the hollow sounding of his shoes against the cold, stone floor fade into silence. One of the other inmates’ chuckles at the predicament, but it is otherwise quiet. Charlotte see’s herself over to the corner, where she has created what some may call a nest in the infested hay, and lowers herself into it.

[paletapessoal]

Flemish stomacher, early 18th century

[isabelle-and-the-devil]

𝐷𝑢𝑜𝑚𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑖 𝐹𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑖

[babyboywinchester]

Absolutely Sam should’ve been a boyking of sorts in some way. Boy kings require a lot of council and who better than a big brother always worried about his well-being and whether or not he is making the right decisions?

Sam should’ve sat on a throne, but a throne that was cushioned by his big brother’s lap. Sam was ruler in his own right and name… but never was a law passed, a paper stamped with his seal… that his big brother hadn’t looked over first.

The first rule about being a good monarch is knowing when to listen to reason and allowing those who know more about a subject to solve a problem about it however they see fit.

Who better for all of that than his adoring brother Dean who only wants what is best for his baby boy?

[life-imitates-art-far-more]

Louis de Silvestre (1675-1760) "The Formation of Man by Prometheus with the Aid of Minerva" (1702) Oil on canvas

[fashion-from-the-past]

Anna Maria Garthwaite (English, c. 1688-1763). Gown, ca. 1740s. Brocaded satin in coloured silks. London: Victoria and Albert Museum, T.264-1966. Given by Mrs Olive Furnivall.

[costumeloverz71]

Dress, 1742-1743

[andelkacroatia]

[angelicc4nqle]

marie Antoinette 2006 ୨∘˚⊹˚∘୧

[foreverinthepagesofhistoryy]

Historical Fashion Challenge 2025

Day 7: 1780-1800

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