You might want to be sitting down for this. Contrary to popular relief, it was not the legendary Thomas Crapper who invented the toilet, but Sir John Harington, a 16th-century author and godson of Queen Elizabeth I.

Holy haring ... who knew?

Not to dump on the guy, but Crapper was far behind Harington in the development of the flush toilet, a 19th-century johnny-come-lately as it were.

If that doesn't bowl you over, consider the options prior to the late 1800s, when commercial toilet paper was first rolled out.

Silk for royalty and nobility. Wads of sheep's wool. Goose necks with feathers (but, one hopes, without heads). For the Romans, a sponge on a stick that was soaked in a bucket of salt water in consideration of the next user.

Coconut shells. Mussels. Newspapers. Pine cones. Sears and Eatons catalogues until less absorbent glossy paper wiped them out of contention.

Yes, the Dundas Museum & Archives has blown the lid off the history and mystery of what Archie Bunker called "the terlet."

A look at the loo

Bowled over by privy options

The Dundas Museum & Archives' latest exhibit gets to the bottom of all things commodious, including the workings of the Roman latrine, the drawbacks of the "earth toilet," the construction of the outhouse and the ever-raging debate about how the toilet paper should hang -- over or under.

Sitting Pretty: A History of the Toilet is a travelling exhibit from the Guelph Museums.

A good clue to its arrival in Dundas is the outhouse on the front lawn, built by volunteer Ken Houghton. There's an in-house outhouse, too, but use of either is strongly discouraged.

For the recent opening, guests were asked to bring donations of toilet paper for the Dundas Food Bank. In attendance was Roy (It's a Stinky Business) Birnie, scion of Hamilton's sewer sovereign Thos. R. Birnie & Sons Ltd., sponsor of the event.

The tissue issue is a going concern. But curiously, toilet paper got the bum's rush when it first appeared on the scene. Despite claims that it was "pure," "medicate," and "splinter-free," TP was considered something of a gimmick by Victorians who were, rightfully, more concerned about the occasional explosion of sewer gases emanating from their newfangled toilets.

Those who did embrace it had to buy it from pharmacists who kept it hidden under the counter.

But once it caught on, the product intended for use in low places assumed high status. Any doubt about its superiority to, say, corncobs was expelled by the names its manufacturers gave it: Champion, Triumph, Liberty, Leader, Banner and, perhaps in a nod to Harington's godmother, Monarch, Majestic, Crown and Queen brands.

(There was also a brand called Lucky Dutchman, but we're not exactly sure where the "luck" comes in.)

Throughout recent history, man has piddled around with various configurations of a mechanical device to remove waste. It has gone by a variety of names, including the washout closet, the hopper, the valve, the siphonic, the pan, the washdown and Crapper's Silent Valveless Water Waste Preventer.

Today's can is a household fixture that also boasts an impressive load of labels, among them the throne, restroom, jakes, privy, brasco, bogs, loo, head, WC, honey pot, lavatory and diddy (like P.).

Visitors to the exhibit will come away flush with new knowledge about the bathroom.

Did you know, for instance, that a biffy with a crescent moon -- luna -- is technically the ladies' and a sunburst cutout -- sol -- signifies the men's? That there's a house in Minnesota with a two-storey, six-hole privy?

Did you know that the privy at Castle Kilbride in Baden, Ont., is built like a brick, er, outhouse -- triple brick in fact, in an Italianate style with corbeils and cornices and dentil moulding to match the house?

Or that chamber pots often had inscriptions on the bottom or portraits of notorious people such as Napoleon? A popular motif was a single eyeball with the poem, "Use me well and keep me clean and I'll not tell what I have seen."

Popos were known as thundermugs or pots de chambre or gozunders -- you know, gozunder the bed. Some were more utilitarian, but others were lavishly decorated works of art.

The natural and necessary process of elimination was a taboo topic, and bowl movements were a source of embarrassment, to the point where some users employed a crocheted "silencer" to muffle the sound of the lid being removed or replaced.

Privy pits were emptied and cleaned in darkness by "gong fermor," nightmen who did their business by the light of the moon.

And 19th-century American education reformer Catherine Beecher called the emptying of chamber pots "the most disagreeable item in domestic labour."

Given the fascinating and universal topic, one that's of interest to anyone with a gastrointestinal system, there's no danger this exhibit is going to tank.

mnolan@thespec.com

905-526-4689

Need to know

What: Sitting Pretty: A History of the Toilet

Where: Dundas Museum & Archives, 139 Park St. W., Dundas

When: Weekdays 10 a.m. to 5 p.m., weekends 1 to 4 p.m. Until Wednesday, March 26

Admission: Free, but donations are welcome

Contact: 905-627-7412, dundasmuseum.ca