English Historical Fiction Authors

Unrequited Love: Jane Austen and America

2012-02-26T21:12:00.000-08:00

by Lauren Gilbert

Jane Austen had little to say about America, and that little was not good. In her letter to Martha Lloyd of 9/2/1814, she did not reflect a positive view of America (as in the new United States), saying “…I place my hope of better things on a claim to the protection of Heaven, as a Religious Nation, a Nation inspite of much Evil improving in Religion, which I cannot believe the Americans to possess.” The ideals of democracy espoused by America, and later in the French Revolution, were a more direct and positive influence on earlier authors with whom Jane was familiar, such as Edmund Burke and Charlotte Turner Smith, but suffered an eclipse when, in France, the Terror erupted and the King and Queen were executed. Park Honan wrote that, in THE LOITERER, Jane’s brother James printed a story reflecting the Tory view of France and America, in which a Scottish soldier fighting against Washington becomes a democratic fool, loses his values , marries a rich vicious mean-born widow, and becomes miserable, ruined by the American Revolution. There is a strong probability that Jane would have read the story.

Austen’s novels reflect a more prudent, Tory approach to advancement than the Scottish soldier in question pursued: her heroines who made advantageous marriages and the men who advanced clearly have worth of their own in terms of character, but also of birth. In PRIDE AND PREJUDICE, Elizabeth Bennet was a “gentleman’s daughter”, so her marriage to Mr. Darcy was not totally inappropriate. In MANSFIELD PARK, Fanny and William Price’s mother was Lady Bertram’s sister, so there was good blood there (however diluted) to supplement their individual merits. In spite of Emma’s improvements, Harriet (born, as we come to discover, the illegitimate daughter of a tradesman) was matched appropriately with the farmer Mr. Martin, and her friendship with Emma evolved into a more suitable relationship. The War of 1812 (the circumstance under discussion in the letter previously cited) would have been a concern but does not make an appearance in her novels (as with so many other politically-charged events of her time). It seems clear that America was a negative influence in the world, in Austen’s view. She tended to uphold the more traditional values and structures currently in place in England, even while she makes her concerns about women’s role and place in those structures apparent.

In considering the West Indies as part of the Americas, the situation and viewpoint are somewhat different but not more favorable. The combination of the West Indies and trade led directly to slavery. Her aunt Leigh-Perrot brought a plantation in Barbados with her when she married Jane’s uncle. Austen’s father, George Austen, was a trustee for a plantation owned by James Nibbs, a former classmate. Austen’s brother Charles’ naval career included five years in the North American Station, searching ships and interfering with trade between France and the United States. Charles married Fanny Palmer, the daughter of an official in Bermuda while stationed in the West Indies. The issues of slavery and income mentioned in MANSFIELD PARK would have had a great deal of immediacy for her family, as discussions of plantation business matters, including slavery, would have been fairly common. Austen’s disgust for slavery were made apparent, however discreetly, by the references in MANSFIELD PARK, previously mentioned, as well as in EMMA. In EMMA, Austen’s character Jane Fairfax referred to her role as a governess as a form of slavery of the mind, if not the body, and was extremely reluctant to embark on her career. Even the reference to Mrs. Elton's family in Bristol with wealth coming from trade has a dark connotation, due to Bristol having been a significant port involved with the slave trade. (The slave trade was outlawed in 1807 but slave ownership in the British Empire was still legal, during Austen's life.)

I was unable to find any positive references to the Americas in Jane Austen’s letters or novels. Even though Austen’s novels carry a subtle undertone of the injustices to women in the current English system, the democratic ideals that lead to the American and French revolutions clearly did not resonate with her. There is no indication she espoused the radical transformation of her society. While bearing in mind that the letters remaining are a fraction of what she had written, available information indicates that Austen viewed the Americas as a dangerously radical, unreligious place where people of low birth and poor character could be advanced socially and materially, in spite of their unworthiness. Given the fairly recent loss of the colonies and subsequent revolution and Terror in France, a jaundiced view of America by Austen and her contemporaries would not be unreasonable or surprising. One can only hope that subsequent developments would have found favor with her, especially in view of the continuing popularity of her novels here.

BIBLIOGRAPHY
Books:
Honan, Park. JANE AUSTEN Her Life. Ballantine Books Edition, New York, NY: May 1989.
LeFaye, Deirdre. JANE AUSTEN The World of Her Novels. Frances Lincoln Ltd, London, UK: 2002.
Le Faye, Deirdre, ed. JANE AUSTEN’S LETTERS (Third Edition) Oxford University Press, Oxford UK, 1997.
MacDonagh, Oliver. JANE AUSTEN Real and Imagined Worlds. Bath Press, Avon, UK: 1991.
Mitton, G. E. JANE AUSTEN and Her Times, 1775-1817. (Originally published 1905) Barnes & Noble, Inc., New York, NY: 2007 (reprint).
Ray, Joan Kilingel, PhD. JANE AUSTEN FOR DUMMIES. Wiley Publishing, Inc., Hoboken, N.J. 2006.
Tomalin, Claire. JANE AUSTEN A Life. First Vintage Books Edition, division of Random House, New York, NY: May 1999.
On-Line Reading:
PERSUASIONS ON-LINE : Numerous articles read, including:
http://www.jasna.org/persuasions/on-line/vol25no1/sheehan.html Vol. 25, No. 1 Sheehan, Colleen A. “To Govern the Winds: Dangerous Acquaintances at Mansfield Park”.
http://www.jasna.org/persuasions/on-line/vol24no1/ellwood.html Vol.24, No. 1 Ellwood, Gracia Fay. “”Such a Dead Silence:” Cultural Evil, Challenge, Deliberate Evil and Metanoia in Mansfield Park”.
http://www.jasna.org/persuasions/on-line/vol24no1/ellwood.html Vol.24, No. 1 Ellwood, Gracia Fay. “”Such a Dead Silence:” Cultural Evil, Challenge, Deliberate Evil and Metanoia in Mansfield Park”.

BBC HISTORY:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/british/empire_seapower/paine_print.html Belchem, Professor John. “Thomas Paine: Citizen of the World.”
http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/historic_figures/burke_edmund.shtml “Edmund Burke (1729-1797)”
The Literary Encyclopedia:
http://www.litencyc.com/php/speople.php?rec=true&UID=4112 “Charlotte Smith (1749-1806)”First Published June 23 2003. Citation: Antje Blank, University of Glasgow.
Other:
http://www.tilneysandtrapdoors.com/mollands/etexts/jasb/jasb7.html Hubback, J. H. and Edith C. JANE AUSTEN’S SAILOR BROTHERS (Chapter 7)

Lady Jane Grey: Royal Tragedy - Royal Pawn Part II

2012-02-25T23:46:00.004-08:00

by Teresa Thomas Bohannon

Lady Jane Grey was proclaimed Queen of England for nine days, and paid for the privilege with her life. Continued from Lady Jane Grey:Royal Tragedy-Royal Pawn begun on February 7, 2012.

Princess Mary was in the country when she received news of her brother's death and Northumberland's treasonous coup. The Princess was many years older than her cousin Jane, and of a much sterner disposition--not at all the type to sit quietly by and allow her throne to be snatched from beneath her very nose! In a masterstroke of political maneuvering, she sent representatives all over the countryside, rallying people to her rightful cause--building an army of outraged constituents. As the story of the two Queens was trumpeted about, nearly everyone in England felt that Mary's cause was just under English law, and that Northumberland had circumvented English justice. Soon, even the people in London began to riot, loudly and joyfully proclaiming Mary as the rightful Queen, and abandoning any romantic notions about Lady Jane's tenuous claim.

Northumberland, realizing--if not regretting--his foolishness, hastened to abandon poor little Jane, removing her from her position of State in the Tower, and sending her back to exile at Sion House while remaining in London himself, to proclaim Mary as the true Queen.

Mary triumphantly entered London, and went straight to the Tower, where her first official act was to hold her brother's funeral. Once that little detail was taken care of, she began to address her enemies. Northumberland was quickly imprisoned, and shortly thereafter beheaded along with several of his co-conspirators since Mary knew exactly who lay behind her young cousin's preemptive claim to the crown. Although, Lady Jane and her husband were quickly returned to the Tower as prisoners; they were allowed to walk in the gardens, and were well treated for Mary, at this time, seemed to believe them innocent--a mere boy and girl forced to play their roles by conniving fathers.

Perhaps they would have stayed in captivity for many years but for Mary herself. Queen Mary--quite stern of both face and manner--quickly became hated. Shortly after she was crowned--people rose up in rebellion, proclaiming that Lady Jane should have been Queen instead. Lady Jane's fate was sealed by those who sought to elevate her. News reached Queen Mary that Sir Thomas Wyatt had collected a large army with the intention of attacking Whitehall Palace and abducting Mary, forcing her to abdicate in favor of Lady Jane.

Wyatt's army arrived, securing St. James's Park and surrounding Whitehall Palace. Fighting commenced between the Queen's troops and Wyatt's rebels, and Queen Marry watched from the Holbein Gate. With all her faults she was very brave, and was said to show no sign of fear even when she saw her own guards driven in and dispersed. When a gentleman rushed up to her, and, falling on his knees, said, 'All is lost,' and begged her to get into a barge on the river and fly to the Tower, where she would be safer, Mary refused to go, and said all was not lost, and by her bravery and her words she so inspired the men that they fought again, and succeeded in beating off the rebel forces who proceeded to fight their way toward the city. The battle ended when Wyatt was taken prisoner on Ludgate Hill, not far from St. Paul's Cathedral.

Mary knew that she was safe, but she also feared that the danger might again rear its ugly head, and so to prevent this, she ordered Lady Jane Grey and her husband to be beheaded, for so long as they lived there would always be the fear that other men would rise as Wyatt had done, and try to make Jane Queen. On the following morning, Mary rode down to the city to thank her nobles and knights for fighting so bravely and defending her, knowing that before the day was ended she would have signed the death-warrant of Lady Jane.

Lady Jane was in the Tower when the news was brought to her. She had been a prisoner six months. It is said that when the priest came to tell Jane the news, she received it quite calmly and without a shudder. But when he tried to make her turn Roman Catholic, she told him she could never do that. The priest hurried back to Queen Mary, and said if the execution could be put off three days he might make Lady Jane a Roman Catholic, so Queen Mary consented to a short delay. During those three days she was asked if she would see her husband--who was to die first--to say good-bye; but she said it was better not, for the parting might be too heartrending, and make them both break down.

When the morning of the executions came, the guards led Guildford past Lady Jane's window. The execution of Guildford did not take long. Presently a low rumble of cart-wheels over the stones told Lady Jane that they were bringing back his dead body, and then she knew her turn must come.

One can only imagine the young woman's horror that morning; but she was very brave, and when they came for her, she is said to have neither fainted nor screamed, but rose up, and, calmly walked to her death. When she arrived at the place of execution she made a little speech, saying that she ought never to have allowed anyone to persuade her to be queen; but that she was young—she had not known what was right. And then, without any show of fear, she laid her head on the block, and was beheaded with a single blow.

And so ended the tragic tale of Lady Jane Grey—a young girl who loved her books, and would have lived a quiet life had she not been made a pawn in her father and father-in-law's ambitious games.

To read the beginning of Lady Jane Grey: Royal Tragedy - Royal Pawn Part see the February 7, 2012 post.

Teresa Thomas Bohannon,
MyLadyWeb, Women's History, Women Authors
Regency Romance A Very Merry Chase
Historical Fantasy Shadows In A Timeless Myth.

The Isle of Anglesey

2012-02-25T00:04:00.000-08:00

by John Wheatley

Anglesey, with its beautiful landscape, and its long and dramatic history of settlement and conflict, is the setting of John Wheatley`s three novels: A Golden Mist, Flowers of Vitriol and The Weeping Sands.

The isle of Anglesey stands in the Irish Sea, separated from the Welsh mainland by the beautiful Menai Strait, once described - with its treacherous tides and unpredictable currents - as the most dangerous waterway in the world.

Wherever you go on Anglesey, you find stories.

When the Romans were fastening their iron grip on Britain, two legions under Suetonius Paulinus crossed the strait to Insula Mona to destroy the Anglesey stronghold of Druid culture, and by all accounts the bloodiest of slaughters took place. In ensuing centuries, as the emergent kingdom of Wales defended its freedom against powerful enemies, Anglesey was the retreat of the Princes, and a royal household was established at Aberffraw. Ancient historical and cultural ties with neighbouring Ireland were consolidated when, after the Act of Union, 1800, Holyhead, on Anglesey was chosen as the final stage of the mail route to Dublin, and it was this which led to the building of the Menai Bridge, completed in 1826.

My first Anglesey novel, A Golden Mist, was inspired by the story of the loss of the Royal Charter. Returning, in 1859, from Melbourne, with a company of 500 men, women, children, and
crew, and laden with bullion from the Australian gold fields, the Royal Charter was only thirty miles from her destination, the port of Liverpool when she was wrecked, in hurricane conditions, on rocks close to Moelfre, a fishing village on Anglesey`s north west coast. Only forty people survived. The sad evidence of the Royal Charter disaster is still to be found in remote and scattered churchyards along that stretch of coast, and it is said that many of the drowned, reluctant to lose the fortune they had gained on the far side of the world, went to their death weighed down with pockets full of gold. Many stories, too, told of villagers from Moelfre who grew mysteriously rich in the aftermath of the disaster! In A Golden Mist, Saffy Williams, visiting the UK from South Africa, finds evidence that one of her ancestors lived in Moelfre at the time. Through her quest, and two fictional contemporary narratives, the diary of Sophia Davis on board the Royal Charter and the memoir of Richard Williams, a young man living in Moelfre in 1859, I tell the story of the lost treasure ship and the lives and passions of people associated with it.

In 1770, `the great discovery` on Parys Mountain, near Amlwch, on Anglesey`s north coast, was the uncovering of rich copper deposits, and it was to lead to a furious mining operation, lasting fifty years, which turned Amlwch from a tiny coastal village into a busy and tawdry industrial town – the copper capital of the world. My second Anglesey novel, Flowers of Vitriol, is a moody story of love, betrayal, jealousy and vengeance set during this early chapter of Britain`s industrial revolution.

Baron Hill, the fabulous neo-Palladian mansion set on the hillside, above Beaumaris, and overlooking the celebrated castle - one in the chain of fortifications by which Edward 1st attempted to subjugate the Welsh - represents the wealth and influence of the Bulkeley family, who provided statesmen in the courts of Elizabeth 1st and James 1st, and who played a vital role in Anglesey politics from the Civil War to modern times. When I found, in my research of Baron Hill, a true story of love and adultery leading to an almost Oresteian tragedy of family vengeance and self-destruction, I chose this as the subject for my third Anglesey novel, The Weeping Sands. Over the centuries, Baron Hill played host to many distinguished guests, including royalty, but the Bulkeley family quit the mansion in 1926. Troops were billeted there during the second world war, and after substantial fire damage, the house was finally abandoned. It now stands, a derelict and awe-inspiring ruin, camouflaged by trees, on the hillside above Beaumaris.

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John Wheatley`s novels are available through AMAZON.

A GOLDEN MIST

FLOWERS OF VITRIOL

THE WEEPING SANDS

John Wheatley lives in the North West of England and is a Lecturer at Stockport College. Cheshire. He was educated at William Hulme`s Grammar School, Manchester, and Leeds University where he graduated in English Literature. John has spent most of his working life teaching English and Drama, but is also qualified as a plumber and heating engineer. He spent holidays in Wales and on Anglesey as a child, and in 2009 published his first Anglesey historical novel, A GOLDEN MIST. This was followed in 2010 by FLOWERS OF VITRIOL, and in 2011 by THE WEEPING SANDS. His fourth Anglesey novel, THE PAPERS OF MATTHEW LOCKE is due to be published in the spring of 2012.

Visit John Wheatley`s Blog

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The Geud Man of Ballangigh

2012-02-23T21:36:00.000-08:00

by David Wilkin

As noted before and elsewhere, I have spent some time teaching the dances that have been done in the Regency Era. I have spent the time doing this because I found tremendous enjoyment performing them as well as guiding others through them. The advent of devices like the iPod and now our iPhones have allowed me to store some of these tunes on the device and other technology has allowed my favorite tunes to become my morning radio show. The other day whilst driving in the dark to work in the morning, Gued Man of Ballangigh cycled through and it brought a smile to my face. I then thought that this would indeed be a good number to translate for my article. As I dedicate my most recent book, Jane Austen and Ghosts to those who dragged me to Regency Dancing as well, I found this thought to be further reinforced.

Here at English Historical Fiction Authors we often write about the history from the eras of our books are written in, so this is not an event, or a biography of some famous person. This is an activity that was done, dancing, at balls, parties, and on the spur of the moment. We know that these country dances made their way into formal society over a few hundred years. Before the country dance made it’s way into the ballroom we might find the minuet and gavotte being done by the aristocracy and upper classes in their halls and manors. In the Regency though, we do find these dances that started on the village green now the centerpieces of social gatherings where dance was the focus.

I hope that you will find this dance as enjoyable as I do. And that the directions below are those you can practice at your leisure. You can purchase a copy of the music on iTunes. There is a rendition by Jeremy Barlow and the Broadside Band that I have owned for a number of years available there. Another that you may find is by the Gadsby’s Tavern Musicians. (That may be harder to come by.)

Notes about the Geud Man of Ballangigh:
This is linked to James V of Scotland. The dance is traced to 1696, 150 years after the death of James V. Caroline Bingham in her biography of James V found references to James wandering the countryside and when meeting people identified himself as the “gudeman of Ballengiech” which means a tenant in the hollow of Stirling Castle. These tales may have come to us from Sir Walter Scott. Sir Walter helped to invent many “authentic” Scottish Traditions when he arranged for George IV (Prinny) to visit Scotland in 1822. William H. Murray then developed the story into a play, Cramond Brig; or the Gudeman O’Ballangeich.

The Call:
A longways dance for as many as well. It is a duple minor.
1) A Couple lead down between B Couple and cast up to place. Two men lead out between two women and cast back to place.
2) B Couple lead up between A Couple and cast down to place. Two women lead out between two men and cast back to place.
3)A man sets towards B woman. Turns single back to place. A woman sets to B man and turns single back to place.
4)All circle four hands half way and fall back in lines, (Improper and progressed.) Partners set forward, and change places by right.

Definitions:
Longways-Couples line up facing each other and form a long line. Men on the left, women on the right. The first couple is that closest to the music, and the line becomes perpendicular to where the musicians are, for instance the stage.

Duple minor-The dance is performed in sets of two couples.

Lead Down-A couple walks away from the music. The man holds his hand palm up so that the lady may place her hand upon it gently. (No playing touchy feely here). Using about four steps to walk down between the other couple, the other couple who is not moving will actually part enough to ensure that the active couple can walk between them. In Gued Man, as the music is sprightly, the active couple move quickly (though there is no skipping in the Regency. Many other dance teachers will say there is. I contend that most will not have worn what we men wear in the Regency and find how tight our clothes have been made. That does not allow for much in the way of skipping.)

Cast-Once the active couple is on the other side of the non active couple, they must get back to place. We call this casting and it does not mean turning around and going directly back to place. We drop the hands of our partners and turn away from them and walk around that inactive person we just passed to return to our spot that we started from.

Setting-This is the step that the men can show off their footwork and calves in the Regency. The ladies legs are generally hidden so if we are lucky we might see a toe poke out from under the hem of their dress. I show off my setting when I can but it took me months to go beyond the basic pattern of shifting my weight, and years to master. For the purpose of simple instruction, you would hop very lightly or shift your weight to your right foot. Bring your left foot over to close together on just the ball of your left foot. Then your left foot back and bring the ball of your right foot to close. In Geud Man of Ballangigh this step is done while slightly advancing towards the the person diagonally across the set (not your partner, but the person of the other sex in the set who is not your partner.)

Turn Single-Here the dancer will take four steps to turn around in place. The dancer turns around to his right. In Geud Man of Ballangigh one turns while also returning along the diagonal so you get back to place.

Circle four Hands-Often called as four hands round, though all four people and all eight of their hands (two each) are used. Everyone joins hands in the square, making a circle. The circle now advances a certain number of places, in Geud Man of Ballangigh, it is two, or half way around the circle.

Fall Back in lines-Joining only inside hands with the person of the same sex in your set, you break the circle and are once more in a long line. (Men are now on the Womens side and Women are on the Mens) We take steps backwards (two.)

Improper-This would be the Men on the Women’s side of the line and Women on the Men’s side.

Progressed-Mentioned below (see A giant note bullet point) we discuss how every other time through, there is a couple out at each end, and that they will wait one time through before coming back in as the type of couple they were not before. Progression is how we keep moving down the line, or up the line to dance with new couples. So the first time through, the Smith’s are dancing with their B Couple, the Bakers. Behind them is the next set and that has the Jones and the Farmers. At Progression, right before the dance phrase is over and getting ready to start anew, the Bakers are the top of the couple, followed by the Smiths, who are still A Couples. Then the Farmers, followed by the Jones’. When everything starts again, the Smiths will be dancing with the Farmers.

Change Places-This last part of the dance, when we have been in our long line that fell back is so that men get back to their side of the dance line and women to theirs. This is just a walking step where you cross your partner by right shoulders and then turn back into the set by your right shoulder as well.

Figures spelled out:
What I find that is so fun is how quickly this moves. The first two parts are continuous and flowing. The first couple is moving and as they return to place the A man does not stop but immediately grabs the hand of the B man and they are moving towards the ladies. The pattern continues with the B Man grasping his partners hand so that they then can pass through the A couple and cast back to place...

*We first form the long line of dancers. The men are on the left of the their partner were they to hold hands and face the head of the hall (generally the stage, or where the musicians sit and play) Thus the man’s right hand grasps the ladies left. Then facing across the set, so you now look at your partner, from the very first couple, who are the A couple, they are dancing in the beginning with the next couple, a B couple. The 3rd couple is once again an A couple and the 4th, a B Couple, and so on.

*A giant note, that every other rendition, couples become out. (If you start with 10 couples, you have 5 active sets. The first time through.) Then on the 2nd time through, a couple at the top and one at the bottom, are out for one rendition. The couple at the top nearest the musicians had been Bs the first time through. When the come back in, the third time through, they will be As. At the bottom of the set, they had been As and will return as Bs.

*After lining up in the long lines, you grasp your partners hand across the set and from the first couple down, they grasp the hand of the couple next to them. The couple closest to the stage is the A Couple, the next is the B. Then we have an entire new set of As and Bs. And then a third set, etc.

*The first half of the dance, leading through and casting.

*This part never stops.
*A Couple
*Men
*B Couple
*Women
*The group mentioned in the list above join inside hands and proceed across their set of four people to split the other two and cast around them back to place where one of these two are still active and grasps the hand of the next person in the grouping to proceed across the set again.
*A Man is thus active first with A Woman. He remains active and grasps B Man’s hand and splits the women with B Man who is now active. In the next phrase B Man grasps his partners hand, which will lead to B Woman grasping A Woman’s hand to split the men and complete the first phrase of the dance.

*The second phrase is setting, circle and progression
*The A couple is active, while the B couple is passive
*A Man sets to B Woman advancing towards her on the diagonal, then turns single back to place.
*Most regency dances have a symmetry and here we have the A Woman setting to B Man and then turning single back to place.
*Now we are at the last part of the dance, that leads into Progression.
*All join hands even as we start to walk in a circle (Don’t join hands and then start walking the circle, start walking as you reach for the other dancers hands.) Only advance two places along the circle, so you will be standing diagonally from where you started in your set.
*We now have the As below the Bs in the line and everyone on the wrong side. Dropping the hand of our partner we keep holding the hand of the dancer who is the same sex as we and fall back two paces in a line.
*We now advance toward our partner with a setting step and then as we near our partner we can stop and walk to our place on the correct side of the set. We pass our partner by right shoulders and then turn right into our place on the line.

*We are now ready to dance again.

At the Regency Assembly Press pages there is one page devoted to Regency Dancing, as you would find at the time and that is recreated today.

Research
Kate Van Winkle Keller and Genevieve Shimer The Playford Ball, 1994

Mr. Wilkin writes Regency Historicals and Romances, Ruritanian and Edwardian Romances, Science Fiction and Fantasy. He is the author of the very successful Pride & Prejudice continuation; Colonel Fitzwilliam’s Correspondence. His most recent work is the humorous spoof; Jane Austen and Ghosts.

His work can be found for sale at: David’s Books, and at various Internet and realworld bookstores including the iBookstore, Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords.
He is published by Regency Assembly Press
And he maintains his own blog called The Things That Catch My Eye
You also may follow Mr. Wilkin on Twitter at @DWWilkin

Lancastrian Yorkists - The Pilkingtons of Pilkington in the 15th Century

2012-02-22T22:05:00.000-08:00

by Brian Wainwright

'Pilkington' as a place name no longer exists, but it was formerly a part of what is now the Metropolitan Borough of Bury in Greater Manchester (Or Lancashire if you are a traditionalist) and included a very large park for the hunting of game. The manor house was at a place called Stand, the highest part of the lordship. It is said that the name 'Stand' originated from the one-time existence of a stand from which the ladies of the family could watch their menfolk as they chased deer around the park that spread out to the south. The Pilkingtons of Pilkington were the senior branch of their name, and had acquired considerable lands in Lancashire, where they were long established, and elsewhere in England. (There was, as usual in such families, a distinct tendency to marry heiresses, and much property was added by this method.) In the fifteenth century Sir Thomas Pilkington even obtained permission to build a small castle in the town of Bury, four or five miles to the north of Pilkington. Scanty remains of this structure survive, following excavation works some years ago.

Sir Thomas, who was born about 1425, was high in the favour of the (Yorkist) King Edward IV and was High Sheriff of Lancashire on no less than fourteen occasions between 1463 and 1484. He was created a Knight Banneret at the siege of Berwick in 1482. (To avoid confusion, this was a higher grade of knighthood, but is by no means to be confused with a Baronetcy, a title not introduced until the 17th Century.) In 1467 he was granted the right to hold two fairs and a market at Bury, and in 1483 received an annuity of 100 marks (66 and two thirds pounds) out of the revenues of Lancashire.

Unlike many other Yorkists, Sir Thomas transferred his allegiance seamlessly to Richard III. Sir Thomas was of course a northerner, and it is safe to assume that he knew Richard (as Duke of Gloucester) far more intimately than did most of the gentlemen of southern England.

Sources vary as to whether Sir Thomas fought at Bosworth or was merely on his way to the battlefield, but he was certainly treated as if he had fought, and he was attainted by Henry VII and forfeited almost all his very substantial lands. Those in Lancashire were given to Thomas Stanley (now Earl of Derby) Henry Tudor's stepfather, and were never recovered. Some of the other lands which Sir Thomas had thoughtfully transferred to his son some years before were retained in the family, though in one case at least the manor was improperly seized and King Henry had to be persuaded to give it back.

Sir Thomas remained Yorkist in sympathy, and fought at the Battle of Stoke (1487) on the side of Lambert Simnel (whoever he was). He was perhaps lucky to survive what was a very bloody battle, but the cost this time was his lands in the Midlands, an inheritance from his grandmother, Margaret Verdon, in some of which he had only a lifetime interest.

Little is known about Sir Thomas after this time. If he was not actually in prison he probably lived with his son, Roger Pilkington of Clipstone Notts and Bressingham, Norfolk. However he certainly survived, for in August 1508 Henry VII granted him a pardon, absolving him of all offences, but not restoring his lands.

Sir Thomas died about 1509, to be succeeded by his son, Roger. However when Roger died in 1525 the senior line of the Pilkingtons died with him in the male line, the remaining lands being divided between Roger's daughters.

Other branches of the Pilkington family survived, including the one that founded the famous glass making firm. It's interesting to note that in the grounds of what was the Stanley's principal home, Lathom House, destroyed in the Civil War, the present day Pilkington concern has a laboratory complex.

The main home of the Pilkingtons (known locally as Stand Old Hall) remained in place, albeit derelict and partially demolished, until relatively recent times. It is now completely demolished, and all that remains are a few pieces of timberwork that are displayed above the bookshelves of Whitefield Library.

The main source for this article was History of the Pilkington Family by Lt. Col. John Pilkington. (1912)

Brian Wainwright is the author of Within the Fetterlock a novel about the life of Constance of York, the cousin of Richard II and Henry IV and The Adventures of Alianore Audley a light-hearted novel about a Yorkist intelligence agent which is really a parody of the genre. The Open Fetterlock, published in Kindle format only, is not a novel as such but contains extracts from several abandoned or indefinitely postponed manuscripts. He is currently working (very slowly) on a number of projects.

The Last Invasion of Britain - Battle of Fishguard 1797

2012-02-21T22:24:00.000-08:00

by Richard Denning

On the 22nd of February in 1797 the UK mainland was invaded by soldiers of a foreign enemy. The attack would fall on Fishguard in Wales. This would be the last time that Britain was invaded (although British held Ireland would be invaded again a year or two later).

The Invasion Plan
After France declared war on Britain in 1793 a plan was conceived to attack Ireland. The idea was that of General Hoche. He believed that a landing by a strong force of 15,000 would lead to a widespread uprising by the Irish who had been under British rule since Cromwell's war of over 150 years before.

General Louis-Lazare Hoche 1768-1797

However it was likely that the British would react swiftly and send troops to Ireland to suppress this uprising. So to prevent this happening Hoche organised two other small expeditions. One would head to the Northeast of England and march across to Lancashire. The other would land in either south or North Wales. It was hoped that in both cases the working class would rise up in revolutionary zeal.

The Irish invasion goes wrong.
Hoche's main force set sail in December 1796 but almost at once it got into trouble. Severe storms scattered the fleet and the remnants limped back to Brest harbour. A similar fate occurred to the force destined for the North east.

But what of the third force. What of the Welsh expedition?

In Command - an American.
It was an Irish-American, Colonel William Tate, from South Carolina, who was given command of the Expeditionary Force. He was a veteran of the War of Independence but had fled to France after his involvement in a failed attempt to capture New Orleans. He commanded La Seconde Legion des Francs or "The Black Legion"named after their dark brown/black uniforms. The force consisted of 600 regular troops and another 800 men in a sort of penal regiment of deserters, convicts and Royalist prisoners of dubious loyalty.

Commodore Castagnier commanded the French Fleet which consisted of four warships of good quality. The fleet flew the British flag but this ruse was seen through as the fleet sailed up the Bristol channel and alarm was raised. The initial target of Bristol was abandoned as tides were too strong so the Fleet sailed round to their second choice at Cardigan Bay, on the west coast of Wales.

The Landing

At first a scouting ship from the French fleet tried to sail into Fishguard Harbour but gun fire from Fishguard Fort forced the vessel to turn around. Tate ordered the landing to be at Carregwastad Head three miles from Fishguard. The landings started on the 22nd February 1797. Tate advanced inland, captured a number of farms and set up his HQ at Trehowel Farm on the Llanwnda Peninsula about a mile from their landing site as well as taking the high ground at Garnwnda and Carngelli, which gave him an unobstructed view of the surrounding countryside. Things appeared to be going well for Tate.

Carregwastad Head, the landing site for Tate's forces
However whilst his regular troops were behaving well and had a good position, the 800 men of the penal regiment deserted in droves, found wine in the various farms and got drunk and would take no part in any battle. Some of them broke into St Nicholas church away to the south and burned bibles.

The Welsh inhabitants were outraged by the French pillaging and louting and started attacking Tate's men. Tate had hoped the Welsh would rise up to throw off perceived English oppression but instead he found that his men were being picked off if they wandered about in small groups.

The British Response.
Local landowner William Knox had raised the Fishguard & Newport Volunteer Infantry in 1794 and placed his own son Thomas Knox in command of the four companies totalling 300 men. The younger Knox had bought his commission and had no combat experience. When learning of the invasion Colonel Knox ordered the regiment to muster and set off towards Fishguard from Newport. In addition 200 men of the local Cardiganshire Militia were already mustered at Haverfordwest having been on an exercise and so their commander, Colby also prepared to march towards Fishguard. Meanwhile word was sent to Lord Cawdor, who commanded the Pembroke Yeomanry Cavalry which was stationed thirty miles away at Stackpole Court. On learning of the invasion Cawdor set off, linked up with Colby, assumed command and together the force moved towards Fishguard.

Knox, meanwhile had sent word to Colby of his intention to attack the French on 23 February if he was not heavily outnumbered. Unfortunately for Knox, a hundred men had still not arrived and as far as he could tell the French numbers getting on towards 1500 men (he did not know that the penal regiment was running away) and so he decided to retreat.

Knox came across Cawdor and Colby eight miles south of Fishguard at 1:30 p.m. Despite Knox's protests Cawdor assumed command and led the combined force back towards Fishguard.

Tate surrenders

Cawdor set up his HQ in this pub.

Cawdor arrived in Fishguard during the afternoon and set up his headquarters on Fishguard Square. Despite the French desertions Tate still had over 800 men and cannons at his disposal and actually still outnumbered Cawdor's men. But Tate could see that the situation was not good for him. He had now recieved word that his naval support had withdrawn (having themesleves become aware of Royal Navy vessels closing in. With half his force deserting and a substantial body of enemy getting ready to engage him AND with the hoped for Welsh uprising not having materialised, it was clear that this expedition was ultimately doomed.

Tate sent two officers to negotiate with Cawdor, hoping to be allowed to withdraw. Cawdor bluffed that his forces were superior and demanded unconditional surrender of the French forces. He ordered Tate to assemble on Goodwick Sands by 10 a.m. on the 24th or he would attack.

Welsh Headgear plays its part

The following morning the British lined up on the sands whilst above them the local townsfolk assembled, many wearing their national dress of tall black hats. It is possible that some of the French thought that the Welsh Women were in fact Grenadier guards as from a distance that mistake might be made. Indeed a local woman, Jemima Nicholas became famous that day as she advanced down to the sands with a pitch fork and persuaded 19 French soldiers to surrender!

Tate tried to delay but eventually accepted the terms of the unconditional surrender and ordered his men to march in and pile their weapons. By 4pm it was all over and the French were being marched away to captivity.

Afterwards
Two of the four French ships were captured in an engagement with the Royal navy and the other two made it back to France. Tate's captivity was brief as in 1798 he and most of his little army was exchanged with British prisoners and sent back to France.

In 1853 the Pembroke Yeomanry, despite the almost non existant battle, gained the battle honour 'Fishguard.' and is unique in being the only regiment in the British Army, that bears the name of an engagement on British soil.

After her death a memorial was raised for Jemima Nicholas, the lady who confronted the French invader armed only with a pitchfork!

In my time travel novel Yesterday's Treasures, Tom sees an alternate version of history where the invasion is a success and North Wales is in French hands.

Bringing his camera with him he had strolled along the battlements stopping every so often to take a photo of a cannon, the fort, Anglesey across the bay in one direction and the distant mountains in the other. On the top of the fort a Union Flag fluttered in the breeze and he snapped that. Then he checked the image in the small screen on the back.

What he saw when it came into view made him stare in amazement.

"Uh?" he muttered as he studied the picture, which clearly showed a flagpole with a flag hanging on the top. However, this was not the familiar red and blue crosses on a white background that he expected to see, but an altogether different flag: one with three broad stripes of red, white and blue. It was the tricolour of France!

He peered up at the standard that flapped about in the gentle wind coming in off the Irish Sea. It was, without a doubt, still the Union Flag. Baffled, he turned his head to glance around the fort, but he could not see a second flagpole anywhere nearby.

"That's stupid!" he muttered. Then he slapped his forehead and smiled. This image was obviously an earlier photo left on the memory card from another day. He checked the image date and time and then frowned when he saw that the date it recorded was today and it had been taken only a few minutes before.

Shaking his head, he looked back at the flagpole and gaped as he now saw the French flag up there, where moments before he was certain it had been the British one. Behind him he heard footsteps coming closer, so he looked around but there was no one in sight. As he stood and stared at the empty battlements he felt something brush past his right arm and heard the footsteps pass on by.

Giveaway: Stephanie Cowell's Claude and Camille

2012-02-20T23:01:00.000-08:00

Please visit HERE to read about the way Stephanie had her first book picked up by a major publisher! You will be prompted to return here to enter the drawing by commenting. Please be sure to leave contact information.

Victorian Era - the Birthplace of Modern Advertising

2012-02-20T22:56:00.000-08:00

By Karen V. Wasylowski

SCHWEPPES ADVERTISEMENT 1900

A beautiful painting done for advertising Schweppes, early 1900s.

I have become inordinately fond of Victorian Advertising; the colors, the artwork, the images are so lovely that they often make you blink your eyes in wonder. The fact is that Advertising Agencies were a Victorian innovation, created in a time of rapidly expanding brand names, marketing and promotional techniques.

The promotional posters I favor feature a typical Victorian wife and mother, and what her life was like, what her worries were (or perhaps, like modern times, it was what advertisers believed her worries should be, in order to best sell their products) However, the loveliest ads feature the children of the era. I don't think I've ever seen a modern ad that could touch this type of innocent beauty.

I love these three, however what they are up to is anyone's guess.

Of course, Victorian advertising did not only feature sweet children, pets and mama. The activities of the industry reflected the Victorian passion for outlandish stunts and would make the basis of a fascinating TV drama series along the lines of Mad Men. Consider the Monkey Brand and Brooke's soap.

This poor fellow is subjected to all sorts of indignities for the sake of sales, from leaping over bars of his soap to dressing up in costume, circus performing, being adopted by John Bull, or sadly skinned and used by a child as a substitute horse. The advertising message on the first picture is priceless:

"We're a Capital Couple, the Moon and I,

I Polish the Earth, She Brightens the Sky,

And we Both Declare, as Half the World Knows,

Though a Capital Couple, WE WON'T WASH CLOTHES!"

Karen V. Wasylowski is the author of the Pride and Prejudice sequel, "Darcy and Fitzwilliam" a continuing tale of the friendship between Mr. Darcy of Pemberley and his charismatic older cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam - the Regency Era's "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid."

Check out my blog, The League of British Artists, too.

A Tale of Two Reformations

2012-02-19T22:59:00.000-08:00

A Tale of Two Reformations: It was the best of churches, it was the worst of churches...

One of the most heated historical debates in the history of early modern England has been over the causes and effects of the English Reformation. While we rightly assume that it had its roots in marital politics and Henry VIII’s desire for an heir (which would in turn keep England from sliding back into civil war), the role of the people in the Reformation is not something that many people (outside historians) consider. (Given they have to compete with so outsized a monarch this is no surprise.)

The first great historian of the English Reformation was A.G. Dickens, whose landmark book The English Reformation set the terms of a long debate that would follow. In it, Dickens traced the roots of the English Reformation to a medieval heresy called Lollardy. With its vocal denunciation of corrupt clergy, its rejection of the Catholic doctrine of Transubstantiation, and its insistence on reading the Bible in English rather than Latin, the dots are there to be connected. (Whether they ought to be connected is a different issue.) Dickens went on to argue that the Church in England was in a state of decay, and that Reformed religion would have come to England no matter what happened at court.

That position endured for many years, until a younger generation of historians endeavored to overturn it. Christopher Haigh and Eamon Duffy (among others) offered a radically different view of medieval Catholicism, one in which traditional religion was vibrant, and would have survived if not for Henry’s difficulty in fathering an heir. They showed the population’s sullen obedience to Royal decrees, and demonstrated that as the Reformation progressed people gave less and less money to the church in their wills. Haigh and Dufy also show the genuine enthusiasm with which people greeted the accession of Mary I, and the speed with which they restored Catholic ceremonies, often at enormous personal expense. (For an enormously enjoyable account of these events, see Duffy’s Voices of Morebath.)

As things stand, it seems that Haigh and Duffy were on the mark, or at least closer to it than Dickens, and had Mary lived another ten years (or provided a Catholic heir) it is entirely possible that England would be Catholic to this day.

But this begs a simple question: How then was there a Reformation?

With no standing army, no police, and nothing remotely resembling a professional bureaucracy, the English crown had none of the coercive tools we so often associate with government. Monarchs had a great deal of authority, but very little power to force their will on a reluctant populace. It is thus is clear that the people played a vital role in making the Reformation possible. In my next post, I’ll discuss the role of the average Englishman (and woman!) in advancing a religious revolution they didn’t necessarily want.

Adeliza of Louvain, Lady of the English: A Forgotten Queen.

2012-02-19T00:01:00.000-08:00

by Elizabeth Chadwick

My recent novel Lady of the English tells the story of Empress Matildam daughter of King Henry I and her fight for the English throne. It is also the story of her young stepmother, Adeliza of Louvain, a personality much less well documented by history and seldom in the public eye.

So who was this second queen to Henry I? What was she like and what is her story?

Adeliza was the daughter of Godrey of Louvain, duke of Lower Lotharingia - an area that is part of Belgium today - see the yellow area on the left of this map.
She was born around 1103, and married Henry I in January 1121 when she was about 18 years old.

Henry I's first wife, Matilda of Scotland, had died in 1118. Henry's reputation for begetting children was fearsome and he had more than a score of bastards to his name, but only two legitimate children of his first queen. William Adelin, his son, was heir to the throne, and there was Matilda, his firstborn, who had gone in marriage to Germany as an eight year old child. William Adelin drowned in November 1120 when the White ship sank while leaving Barfleur harbour on a return journey from Normandy to England and Henry found himself without an heir other than Matilda, far away in Germany and now an Empress. Past historians have believed that Henry immediately set about finding a new queen on which to beget more heirs, but it has been proven that even before his son's death, he was in negotiations with Godfrey of Louvain for his daughter's hand.

The chroniclers say that Adeliza was beautiful. She was known as 'The Fair Maid of Brabant' She was descended from Charlemagne, and an alliance with her father's house also helped to strengthen Henry I's ties and policies with Germany. By early January 1121, Adeliza was on her way to England and a new life as its queen.

As Adeliza settled into life with Henry, he took her everywhere with him, probably in the hope that she would become pregnant. Henry had used his first queen to act as regent when he was absent from England, but Adeliza never took up any kind of political role. This is logical and understandable since by the time Henry married her, he had a very effective administrative system in operation and a strong justiciar in the form of Roger, Bishop of Salisbury. Also, since Adeliza was only 18, unaccustomed to England and Normandy, and inexperienced, there was no point in putting her to rule. Her duty was to Henry and to future heirs.

In the event, Adeliza did not become pregnant during the almost 15 years of their marriage. It appears to have been a source of great distress to her. She wrote to Hildebert of Lavardin, Archbishop of Tours for advice on this. We do not know what she said to him, but we do have his reply to her, where he says: 'If it has not been granted to you from Heaven that you should bear a child to the King of the English, in these (the poor) you will bring forth for the King of the Angels, with no damage to your modesty. Perhaps the lord has closed up your womb, so that you might adopt immortal offspring...it is more blessed to be fertile in the spirit than the flesh.'

Although Adeliza took no major part in governing the country, she was, nevertheless present at several councils and played a symbolic role in the royal administration. Shortly before her marriage to King Henry, she was elected 'Lady of the English'. She also appeared with Henry at crown wearing ceremonies, including one on the day after her wedding and another the following Pentecost. She was the first queen entitled to a payment of 'Queen's Gold.' This was to become an important part of the income of queens. It was a tax of an extra ten per cent on any fine to the crown over the value of ten marks. It was also owed on tax paid by the Jews.

The fine was standardised when Eleanor of Aquitaine became queen, but Adeliza is 'the first example of a queen receiving a proportion of a licence fine.'

Adeliza also had lands and revenues of her dowry and position as queen of England. She had revenues from Waltham and Queenhithe (from which she donated 100 shillings to be given each year to Reading Abbey on the anniversary of Henry's death). She had estates in Essex, Hertfordshire, Bedfordshire, Middlesex, Gloucestershire and Devon. She had part of the royal estate at Berkeley and Henry gave her the entire county of Shropshire. She also held the rape of Arundel, including the castle. This and various other lands had not been held as dower by other queens, nor did they revert to the crown on her death, but were hereditary. She appears to have taken an active interest in the management of her lands, issuing orders for example, to the monks of Reading not to alienate any of her gifts to them.

'Aelidis dei gratia regina Edwardo abbati et toto conventui de Radingia, salutem. Audivi a quibusdam quod vultis ecclesiam de Stantona extra dominium vestrum et manum ponere. Quare mando vobis quod nolo ut illam vel aliquod de elemosina mea extra manum vestram ponatis. Teste Reinaldo de Windresores Apud Arondell.

Adeliza was also a concerned sponsor and benefactor of friends and relations. Her brother Joscelin was her constable at Arundel and she gave him the barony of Petworth which was within the honour of Arundel and helped arange him a lucrative marriage. (You will find poor Joscelin erroneously listed as the brother of Eleanor of Aquitaine in Alison Weir's biography of Eleanor, but it's not the case. Joscelin was most firmly Adeliza's brother).

Adeliza also helped out her cousin Melisende with a marriage portion of land in Stanton Harcourt. We know that her domestic household seems to have been stable and long serving. Her chaplain was called Herman, her clerk Serlo, and her constable Godeschal.

Adeliza was concerned with religeous foundations and seems to have been devout. She founded a leper hospital at Wilton, and in her second marriage, there were also leper houses established at Arundel and Castle Rising. As well as corresponding with Hildebert of Lavardin, she was a close friend of Alexander, bishop of Lincoln, addressing him as 'amico Karissimo' in a charter. She gave donations to Waverley Abbey, Tintern, St. Mary's of Oseney, St. Mary of Eynsham, Waltham Abbey, the Templars, and Affligem Abbey in Brabant, where she was eventually to retire.

Adeliza appears to have been well educated and to have enjoyed literature and patronage of the written word. She comissioned an account of Henry's reign from a Scottish poet called David, to be set to music. Sadly this work no longer exists, which is a pity. If it was anything like William Marshal's Histoire, it would have been a fantastic insight into the period. Philippe de Thaon's Bestiary is dedicated to Adeliza.

In her widowhood, she patronised the poet Serlo of Wilton.

When Henry died in 1135, Adeliza entered the nunnery at Wilton and dwelt there for a couple of years, more or less retiring from the world. She was still a young woman though, and when William D'Albini, lord of Buckenham in Norfolk came courting, she agreed to marry him. The D'Albini's were royal stewards and held a solid, important place at court, although they were not of the top rank. William D'Albini had supported Stephen for the throne when Henry died, rather than Henry's daughter Matilda. All the barons had sworn for Matilda during Henry's lifetime, but most were not disposed to welcome her as queen when it came to crunch time. Where Adeliza's sympathies lay is not stated, but she had spent a lot of time in Empress Matilda's company between 1125 and 1135, and had known her before that while Matilda was Empress of Germany. However, Adeliza's new husband was staunchly for Stephen.

In September 1139, about a year after Adeliza had married William D'Albini, the Empress prepared to come to England to further her claim to the throne. Stephen ordered a watch put on all the ports, but Matilda made instead for Arundel. Although not a port, it had a river connection with the sea and was close to the coast. Several chroniclers seem to think that Adeliza actually invited Matilda to come there. I agree with them, I think she used the traditional and sacred bond of kinship tie both as a pretext and a genuine reason. Adeliza was of a similar age to Matilda, but she was also her stepmother, and that gave her certain duties and obligations. One of the roles of a queen was that of peace-maker, so perhaps Adeliza thought she could lay the ground for some kind of peace deal between Stephen and Matilda. What her husband thought of all this is not reported, but he certainly went along with it, which suggests, given his otherwise loyalty to Stephen, that he was prepared to indulge his wife and that his wife was a quietly clever diplomat.

Stephen came to Arundel and the Empress was escorted from the castle to Bristol, and from there the war began in earnest, so as a cordial visit from kin and as a diplomatic exercise, Adeliza's ploy was something of a disaster, although it paved the way for the future rule of Henry II.

Adeliza had been barren in her 15 year marriage to Henry I, but her union with William D'Albini proved the opposite and Adeliza proved to be very fecund indeed. Between 1139 and 1148, she bore either six or seven children. Why she was so fertile with her second husband and not her first is a mystery and open to conjecture. Henry I was certainly not incapable even in his later years, and would have been keen to beget an heir if possible.

Adeliza and William's descendants include Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard. The line still exists, although through various side-moves on the family tree. The descendants of Adeliza of Louvain and William D'Albini still own Castle Rising and Arundel Castle today.

William D'Albini was a great builder and once his funds and standing increased following his marriage to Adeliza, he embarked on a programme of construction and improvement. His most famous monument is that of Castle Rising in Norfolk where he built an entire castle and graced it with a magnificent entrance hall, rich external decoration based on Norwich Castle, and mod cons in the private chamber. Castle Rising is thought to be the first in the country with separate Ladies and Gents toilets!

Adeliza had always been devout, and when her child-bearing years were over, she retired, with her husband's consent, to the Benedictine convent at Afflighem and died there in 1151. Her body was borne to Reading Abbey, where she was buried as a queen beside Henry I. Her husband survived her by another twenty five years and did not remarry.

Adeliza of Louvain: An overlooked Queen and 'Lady of the English.'

'O queen of the English, Adela, the very muse who prepares to call to mind your graces is frozen in wonder.' Henry of Huntingdon: The History of the English People.

Castle Rising Castle, built by William D'Albini to honour his wife Adeliza.

From “The art of English shooting” on Guns, Powder, Shot and Flints

2012-02-18T00:01:00.000-08:00

Last time I quoted “The art of English shooting” on the matter of how to make sure that the fowling-piece of your choice is worth buying and how to take care and clean your gun. Today I'm going to quote “The art of English shooting” again, this time on the matter of guns and their appendages and the choice of powder, shot and flints. I imagine that it might not be the most interesting and exciting of subjects for monthly discussion, but I, for one, feel the need to pursue it in order to know what it is that my male characters are supposed to be doing before, during and after shooting, and I hope that the knowledge will help me create authentic stories set in Regency England during the season.

So, let us start with the fowling-pieces and their appendages (I think it's such a pity that this word is no longer used nowadays...):

The necessary appendages in the Fowling-piece are, an iron rod, with a screw or worm at one end, and a scrape (to clear rust or caked powder) at the other, which rod is to be used for the washing and dry-cleaning the inside of the barrel, and a turn-screw should be kept for the use of the lock.

A flask, or horn, for the carriage of the powder, the size and shape of which may be according to fancy; however, it will be proper to have the measure of the charge to hold the exact quantity the gun is found to carry.

A leather pouch, or small canvas bag, to carry the shot; with a tin, or other measure, that will hold the exact charge of the gun: this article of the exact measure for the powder and shot should be particularly observed; as it not only saves trouble, but is charging with more certainty and exactness.

And now a few words about powder, shot and flints. I've read several books on the subject and I always wondered about the size of the shot (I mean how am I supposed to know which one to use if they don't give any details?) and here, at last, the author actually goes and explains what shot size to use for what bird.

The best sort of Powder is small-grained, hard to crumble between the finger and thumb, and of a bluish cast; which should be the only sort used, by rights, for the Fowling-piece.

The Shot should be round and solid; and the more it has these properties the better it is: the size must be according to the shooting that it is intended for; there is from № 1 to 6, and smaller, which is called mustard-seed, or dust-shot; but № 5 is small enough for any shooting whatsoever; the № 1, may be used for wild-geese; the № 2, for ducks, widgeons, and other water-fowl; the № 3, for pheasants, (partridges after the first month) and all the fen-fowl; the № 4, for partridges, woodcocks, etc., and the № 5, for snipes, and all the smaller birds.

As to the choice of Flints, the clear ones are the best; but whether the dark or light sort, is immaterial, as there are good of both kinds: the size should be suited to the lock of the gun, and be neither too large and thick, not too small and slight; the first will not give fire freely, and the other will be very apt to break.

Thank you for your attention. I hope someone might find this subject of interest and use too. See you next month with more on shooting. Who knows, I might actually move from fowling-pieces to fowls next...

Farida Mestek is the author of “Margaret's Rematch” (newly edited and with a gorgeous new cover), “A Secret Arrangement” and “Lord Darlington's Fancy” - romantic stories set against the backdrop of Regency England. You can learn more about her books at her blog.

The Victorian Technological Revolution: Transportation and Communications

2012-02-16T23:47:00.000-08:00

by Gary Inbinder

The Victorian Era (1837-1901) was a period of great technological progress, especially in the industrialized West. Consider the lives of the average European—country folk, townspeople, or city-dwellers—between 1600 and 1800; the changes won’t seem that dramatic. On the other hand, the difference between 1800 and 1900 was profound.

In the fields of transportation and communication, progress that had plodded along for centuries kicked into high gear in the 19th century, especially following the Napoleonic Wars. Steamships replaced sail cutting the transatlantic crossing from weeks to days, railways reduced a day’s journey to hours, the telegraph and later the telephone and wireless made communications over long distances instantaneous.

I’m in my early sixties, so I’ve lived through a period roughly equivalent in time to Queen Victoria’s reign, and I’ve seen many changes. Take just one example. I remember our family’s first television, a twelve-inch, black and white console. You had the choice of five channels; the three networks and two local stations. We had a rabbit-ear antenna that, to put it mildly, didn’t produce the best reception, and my father was constantly changing burned out vacuum tubes, fiddling with the controls, and experimenting with different antennae.

The set lasted a few years before it gave up the ghost, and we lived without TV for a couple of years before replacing it. Fast forward, and consider the progress — solid state circuitry, color, ever larger screens, computerization, cable and direct TV, hundreds of channels from which to choose, High Definition flat screens, and all the bells and whistles of contemporary home entertainment. That will give you some idea of the sort of technological change the Victorians experienced between the 1830s and the turn of the last century.

The complete story of Victorian technological progress far exceeds the scope of this post; therefore, I’ll limit myself to a brief overview of some major improvements in transportation and communications.

Sail to Steam: Steamboats and steamships first appeared in the early nineteenth century, but their rapid development and dominance is associated with the Victorian era. In 1838 the steamers, Great Western and Sirius raced across the Atlantic, establishing the Blue Riband competition for the fastest transatlantic passage by passenger ships. Sirius crossed first, in 18 days, about 22 days better than the average for a sailing packet. However, Great Western left England 4 days after Sirius, and almost caught her, arriving in New York just one day after her rival. The competition stiffened when Samuel Cunard entered the picture. In 1840 his first ship, the Britannia, crossed the Atlantic from Liverpool to Halifax, Nova Scotia in a record 11 days and 4 hours. While the increased speed was impressive, Charles Dickens, who crossed the Atlantic on the Britannia, was not enthusiastic about the accommodations:

"Before descending into the bowels of the ship, we had passed from the deck into a long narrow apartment, not unlike a gigantic hearse with windows in the sides; having at the upper end a melancholy stove, at which three or four chilly stewards were warming their hands; while on either side, extending down its whole dreary length, was a long, long table, over each of which a rack, fixed to the low roof, and stuck full of drinking-glasses and cruet-stands, hinted dismally at rolling seas and heavy weather." American Notes (1842)

From the 1840s to the 1890s ships became faster, larger, safer, and more comfortable. By the late 1870s the average Liverpool to New York crossing had been reduced to approximately 10 days, with 7 day record runs. By 1900 ships like White Star’s 17,274 ton, steel hulled, twin screw liner Oceanic were regularly making the crossing in 5 days. First and Second Class passengers crossed in relative comfort, and even the immigrants in Steerage fared better than passengers on the early steamers.

Coaches to Trains and Automobiles: The earliest years of Queen Victoria's reign saw the beginnings of a railway boom. The early railways were short lines begun in the 1820s, but they really got up a head of steam in the late 1830s and 1840s, with track spreading out across Britain. In 1840 there were approximately 1,500 miles of track, in 1850 more than 6,600, and by 1900 approximately 22,000 miles carried millions of passengers and immense quantities of freight. Speed, safety and comfort improved significantly during that period.

Novelists noted the change, and not necessarily with admiration. For example, Dickens used the railways as a metaphor for the dark side of progress, comparing the speed of the locomotive to the onward rush of life toward its inevitable end:

"Away, with a shriek, and a roar, and a rattle, from the town, burrowing among the dwellings of men and making the streets hum, flashing out into the meadows for a moment, mining in through the damp earth, booming on in darkness and heavy air, bursting out again into the sunny day so bright and wide; away, with a shriek, and a roar, and a rattle, through the fields, through the woods, through the corn, through the hay, through the chalk, through the mould, through the clay, through the rock, among objects close at hand and almost in the grasp, ever flying from the traveller, and a deceitful distance ever moving slowly within him: like as in the track of the remorseless monster, Death!" Dombey and Son (1848)

Artists also used the railways of that era as subjects for their paintings, most notably Joseph Mallord William Turner’s Rain, Steam, and Speed—The Great Western Railway.

The development of the automobile had been retarded in Britain by a law that set a 4 mph speed limit for “locomotives” driven on the roads and required the “locomotive” to be preceded by a man on foot carrying a red flag. The Locomotive Acts (or Red Flag Acts) had been passed to control heavy steam driven road vehicles that were considered dangerous and damaging to the roads when driven at speeds in excess of a walk. In 1896, the speed limit was raised from 4 mph to 14 mph for “Light Locomotives” and the requirement of the man on foot was abolished. The change is celebrated in the annual London to Brighton run for veteran cars. With the change in the law, motoring became popular among the British upper classes including the Prince of Wales, the first member of the Royal Family to own a car, a 1900 Daimler.

Telegraph, Telephone, and Wireless: Many believe that electric telegraphy began in 1844 in the United States when Morse opened a line between Baltimore and Washington, D.C. However, in 1837 the English inventors, William Cooke and Charles Wheatstone devised an electric telegraph that used magnetic needles to transmit messages. Their first telegraph linked Euston station and Camden town, and from there it spread through the burgeoning British railway system carrying messages and controlling signals, improving efficiency and safety. The first cable crossed the Channel in 1851, followed by others across the Irish and North Seas. In 1866, Isambard Kingdom Brunel’s giant steamer, The Great Eastern, laid the first successful Trans-Atlantic cable. The electric communications revolution spread, and by the late 1870s, the whole world was connected by a great telegraphic web.

In 1876 the telephone was pioneered and patented in the United States by Alexander Graham Bell. The new invention became a “hit” at the Philadelphia Centennial Exposition when the Emperor of Brazil remarked, “My God, it talks!” The first London telephone directory (1880) listed 255 names. That same year there were approximately 30,000 telephones in the entire United States. However, there were more than 25,000 phones in use in Britain by the late 1880s, and more than 200,000 in the U.S. by 1890. The novelist Theodore Dreiser took particular note of the new technological wonder by referencing the pay telephone in a dramatic scene:

"At the first drugstore he stopped, seeing a long-distance telephone booth inside. It was a famous drugstore, and contained one of the first private telephone booths ever erected. "I want to use your 'phone a minute," he said to the night clerk." Sister Carrie (1900)

Marconi’s Wireless Telegraph Co. formed in London (1897) established radio communications between England and France (1898), and in 1901, the last year of Queen Victoria’s reign, succeeded in sending and receiving signals across the Atlantic. Thus, the Victorian telecommunications revolution laid the foundations for the global communications network of today.

In 1873 Jules Verne wrote Around the World in Eighty Days, taking into account all the recent advances in transportation and communications, including the completion of the U.S. Transcontinental Railroad, the Suez Canal, and the extension of the Indian railway system. His fictional traveller, Phileas Fogg, could plan his journey based upon reliable steamship schedules and railway timetables, and he could also take advantage of improved communications provided by the worldwide telegraphic network. To demonstrate the viability of Verne’s hypothetical journey, in 1889 New York World reporter Nellie Bly made the globe circling trip in seventy-two days. Her feat would have seemed as incredible at the beginning of Queen Victoria’s reign as a manned lunar landing to folks watching their twelve-inch black and white, vacuum tube televisions in the early 1950s. Like a Victorian, within the span of my lifetime, Science Fiction has become Science Fact.

For better or worse, technology took off like a rocket in the Victorian Era, and it’s been streaking its way to the stars ever since.

Gary Inbinder is a retired attorney who left the practice of law to write full-time. Drollerie Press published his first novel, Confessions of the Creature. Gary is a member of the Historical Novel Society. He is also a member of the Bewildering Stories Editorial Review Board, and his short fiction, articles and essays appear in Bewildering Stories, Halfway Down the Stairs, Litsnack, Morpheus Tales, The Absent Willow Review, The Copperfield Review, Humanitas, Touchstone Magazine and other publications. Gary's second novel, The Flower to the Painter (Fireship Press 2011)the story of a female artist in Victorian Europe who masquerades as man to advance her career, is now available from Amazon and other retailers.

Elizabeth I's Royal Progresses and Kenilworth Castle

2012-02-16T01:41:00.004-08:00

Nonsuch Palace

It’s well-known that Queen Elizabeth I moved her court away from her great palaces during the summer months, visiting the homes of various favoured courtiers in turn. This was largely to allow the palaces to be ‘purged’ after several months of residency, especially once the stench of human ordure had become too much to tolerate.

In the Queen’s absence, the royal apartments would be swept and scrubbed clean, with aromatic herbs burnt to dispel bad smells and the palace cesspits dug out. But a very real fear of plague was also behind this mass exodus. It was widely believed that fresh country air was a protection against plague, and that diseases could be caught from the polluted stench of towns and cities. Elizabeth herself always carried or wore a pomander of herbs and spices that she sniffed at constantly when the air was bad.

Elizabeth I, the Rainbow portrait

What is less well-known is the sheer scale of Elizabeth’s removals from court. Not only did the Queen take the bulk of her courtiers with her on these annual ‘Progresses’, as her trips around the country were known, but she was also accompanied by a fleet of her own household servants, including laundresses, seamstresses, cooks and grooms, plus all the usual accoutrements of a court on the move. These included selections of gowns and finery for the Queen and her ladies, hats, shoes, jewellery, goblets and tableware, precious books, even a selection of her palace furniture in case the house she visited was too humble for her taste. All this was transported in a vast convoy of carts laden with great wooden chests and dozens of servants. Sometimes as many as three hundred carts would set off in advance of the Queen's party.

Further servants would be on hand to tend to the courtiers, and in particular those members of the Privy Council who had been ordered to accompany the Queen. A few courtiers were permitted to bring their wives and children, so an array of wetnurses, maids and tutors might be added to the tally. The unfortunate courtier whose home was hosting the Queen’s Progress would be expected to bear the cost of almost every expense incurred by housing, feeding, and entertaining this vast travelling circus. Yet to host the Queen's Progress was considered a great honour, and many courtiers no doubt hoped to recoup their losses by increasing their status at court.

When Elizabeth I descended on Kenilworth Castle in July 1575, she arrived with such a vast entourage that Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, her court favourite and host for the next few weeks, was left nearly bankrupt for the rest of his life. Nonetheless, the stakes he was playing were equally high. For the ambitious Earl had not yet given up hope of persuading Elizabeth to marry him, and had planned every detail of her stay to underpin his final – and most desperate – proposal.

Robert even had the castle clock stopped at the moment of Elizabeth's arrival, a romantic gesture to indicate she had now entered a ‘magical world’ where outside time and reality ceased to matter. The theme of his entertainments rather daringly suggested that Kenilworth had become a kind of Camelot for her visit, with the Earl promoted to the status of King Arthur - and Elizabeth as his Queen.

Kenilworth Castle, Warwickshire: J.D. Forrester

The Earl’s entertainments were among the most lavish and elaborate ever seen in Tudor England, with giants playing trumpets on her arrival, nymphs and a Lady of the Lake on a floating island, outrageously extravagant banquets with goblets made of golden sugar and a gigantic salt cellar in the shape of a silver galleon, plays and mummers offered at every turn, even a staged attack by a Green Man in the forests where she loved to hunt every fine afternoon. Small wonder he was left bankrupt!

And the Queen and her courtiers were not the only ones to benefit from these amazing entertainments. It is widely believed that the young William Shakespeare, then a boy of eleven living in nearby Stratford, may have been brought to Kenilworth to witness one particularly spectacular firework display, since references to it crop up in his plays.

We know the Earl’s proposal was not successful. Something occurred to upset the Virgin Queen during those idyllic weeks at Kenilworth, for Elizabeth cut short her intended stay and remained at the castle only nineteen days before abruptly departing for the north. One tale goes that the Earl sent his friends to ride after the Queen, begging her not to miss the final entertainments that still awaited her, but Elizabeth ignored them and rode on. We can only speculate as to why.

Victoria Lamb’s debut historical novel "The Queen’s Secret" is set entirely at Kenilworth Castle during Elizabeth I’s visit in July 1575. It is available as a hardback and ebook in the UK, and as an ebook in the US.

A Short – But Heart-felt – Valentine from the Fifteenth Century

2012-02-14T21:14:00.000-08:00

by Anne O'Brien

In the fifteenth century, England was torn apart by the Wars of the Roses. Between 1455 and 1485, four kings lost their crowns, more than forty nobles lost their lives, and thousands of those who fought on both sides met a violent death. Meanwhile in Norfolk the members of the Paston family were writing letters. They were a family who rose rapidly up the social scale from Clement, being a good plain husbandman in 1378, to John III the King’s trusty and well-beloved knight, invited by Henry VII to the marriage of his heir Arthur to Catherine of Aragon.

This is St Margaret’s Church in Paston, Norfolk, where many of the family are buried.

So what did this ordinary yet remarkable family write about? The conflict of course, particularly their dispute with the Duke of Norfolk over the ownership of Caister Castle which ended in a full-blown siege. But they also wrote about politics, business, shopping and love, chattering endlessly over the decades, one member of the family to another. And one of these letters is believed to be the oldest Valentine.

For this we have to thank John Paston III and Margery Bews.
In 1476, John III was thirty three years old and unmarried and was desperate enough for a wife to ask his brother to keep an eye out for ‘an old thrifty alewife’ for him. Not the stuff of romance.
But early in 1477 he met Margery Bews, a girl probably in her late teens, daughter of a Norfolk knight. She was not an heiress, but the family was well thought of and John fell passionately in love with her. And she with him.

The marriage seemed doomed to failure because of bitter disputes over the size of Margery’s dowry – she had three sisters whom her father must also provide for - but their love held true. During their prologued betrothal, Margery wrote to John, addressing him as her ‘right well-beloved Valentine.’ She pleaded with him not to leave her because of the dowry difficulties.
‘If you love me, as I trust verily you do, you will not leave me therefore. My heart bids me ever more to love you, truly over all earthly thing.’
Then Margery added her initials in the shape of a heart.

They wed eventually and it seems lived happily ever after. They had three children. From their letters it would appear that their love lost none of its romance. Margery sometimes wrote to John as ‘Right Reverend and Worshipful Sir’ but on other occasions as ‘mine own sweetheart.’ Even when the letters were full of the detail of ordinary life and for the most part very decorous, the post script often was not.
‘Sir, I pray you, if you tarry long in London that it will please you to send for me for I think (it) long since I lay in you arms.’

This is the John Paston who was invited to the royal wedding. Sadly Margery did not live to enjoy the occasion for she had died in 1495.

This is Caister Castle , the fifteenth century moated manor house with took the family into war against the forces of the Duke of Norfolk. The Pastons were successful in keeping it in the family.

What a remarkable resource the Paston letters are to medieval historians. and what a miracle that so many of them have survived. Five hundred years on, the voices of this stalwart family still ring out loud and clear. And how good to know that love blossomed for John and Margery even in the years of upheaval and death.

Anne O’Brien
Author of The Virgin Widow and Queen Defiant/Devil’s Consort.
The Kings Concubine, a novel of Alice Perrers, will be released in May/June 2012.
www.anneobrienbooks.com
www.facebook.com/anneobrienbooks

Be My Valentine!

2012-02-13T22:55:00.000-08:00

by Marie Higgins

When love is not madness, it is not love. ~Pedro Calderon de la Barca

Many are the starrs I see, but in my eye no starr like thee. ~English saying used on poesy rings

Loving is not just looking at each other, it's looking in the same direction. ~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, Wind, Sand, and Stars, 1939

Gravitation is not responsible for people falling in love. ~Albert Einstein

Oh, if it be to choose and call thee mine, love, thou art every day my Valentine! ~Thomas Hood
I claim there ain't Another Saint As great as Valentine. ~Ogden Nash

Must, bid the Morn awake!
Sad Winter now declines,
Each bird doth choose a mate;
This day's Saint Valentine's.
For that good bishop's sake
Get up and let us see
What beauty it shall be
That Fortune us assigns. ~Michael Drayton

“Be My Valentine”…

Who was Saint Valentine … and why in heavens do people celebrate his name by writing sonnets, giving flowers, or candy to those they love?

Here is what I researched about our dear Saint Valentine. Several articles were written about the 'legend' of Saint Valentine...

Wikipedia says this –

Saint Valentine (in Latin, Valentinus) is the name of several (14 in all ^[2]) martyred saints of ancient Rome. The name "Valentine", derived from valens (worthy, strong, powerful), was popular in Late Antiquity.^[3] Of the Saint Valentine whose feast is on February 14, nothing is known except his name and that he was buried on the Via Flaminia north of Rome on February 14, he was born on April 16. It is even uncertain whether the feast of that day celebrates only one saint or more saints of the same name. For this reason this liturgical commemoration was not kept in the Catholic calendar of saints for universal liturgical veneration as revised in 1969.^[4] But "Martyr Valentinus the Presbyter and those with him at Rome" remains in the list of saints proposed for veneration by all Catholics.^[5]

One of the articles I read talked about a priest who served during the third century in Rome. When Emperor Claudius II decided that single men made better soldiers, he outlawed marriages for young men. The priest – Valentine – realized the injustice, defied the emperor and continued to perform marriages for young lovers in secret. When Valentine was discovered for going against the emperor, Claudius ordered the priest be put to death. On the eve of his execution, Valentine wrote a letter to his lover (some believed it was the daughter of one of the jailers). Valentine signed this letter, “from your Valentine”. Eventually, the Catholic Church sainted Valentine.

When I think about all my favorite Valentine’s Days, only ONE comes to mind. I had just met my future husband, but at the time, I was dating his best friend. Little did I know at the time that my future husband was secretly wishing I would love him and not his friend. Anyway…it was my future husband’s idea to get some red spray paint and spray a big heart on my snow-covered lawn. That morning when I pulled out of my driveway on my way to work…I saw the heart and in it said “Be Mine”. Ahhhh…. That’s been the most memorable Valentine’s Day gift!!!

So…since today is officially Valentine’s Day – I want to hear about YOUR favorite Valentine’s Day gift – either one you gave or one you received.

Marie Higgins is a multi-published author of romance; from refined bad-boy heroes who makes your heart melt to the feisty heroines who somehow manage to love them regardless of their faults. Visit her website / blog to discover more about her – http://mariehiggins84302.blogspot.com

It wasn’t much later until this day became associated with ‘love’. During the middle ages, it was commonly believed in France and England that February 14 was the beginning of birds’ mating season.

Valentines greetings did not become popular until the Middle Ages. The oldest known valentine still in existence today was a poem written in 1415 by Charles, Duke of Orleans, to his wife while he was imprisoned in the Tower of London following his capture at the Battle of Agincourt.

GIVEAWAY: 'Merits and Mercenaries', the First TBNLA 'Classic Companion' Novel by Lady A~

2012-02-12T23:38:00.000-08:00

The enigmatic 'Lady A~' is giving away a very rare and fair copy of Merits and Mercenaries, the first 'Bath Beauty' of her seven-book The Bath Novels of Lady A~ Collection (TBNLA). Peruse the merits of this treasure HERE, pray, and then you will be sweetly prompted to return (here) to compete by commenting in high style.

Pray, fond EHFA friends, do not fail to leave your contact information!

Horrible Histories - songs

2012-02-12T23:18:00.000-08:00

Here in the UK there is a fabulous children's TV program (and books by Terry Deary) called "Horrible Histories". It's how you wish your history lessons were when you were at school - with all the gory, yukky bits and lots of humour.

The program by the BBC has as many adult fans as children, and includes some fabulous songs which teach history. Here are a few of my favourite: Enjoy!

The Tudors (don't mess with them!):

English Civil War (explained in the style of West Side Story):

Charles II brings back the English Monarchy and loves a party (in the style of Eminem):

The 4 King Georges (in the style of a Boy-band):

Richard III sets the record straight against all that Tudor propaganda in this lovely ballad:

Finally, want to learn 1000 years of Kings and Queens of England since William the Conquer:

There are plenty others available to view, and the first two series are available on Amazon as a DVD.

Which was your favourite?

Jenna

Jenna Dawlish is the author of the Victorian novels: Love Engineered and Sprig of Thyme.

www.jennadawlish.com

Mr. Darcy strips off...

2012-02-11T21:51:00.000-08:00

First off, we have a conundrum.

Because, of course, there are two versions of the novel featuring Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, set in two sartorially different periods. Do I tell you about Mr. Darcy circa 1796-97 when First Impressions was being written? Hmn. Well, that's easily solved. In 1797 wealthy young men were wearing cravats in the style of the Prince of Wales, which "were then worn without stiffening of any kind, and bagged out in front, rucking up to the chin in a roll." Messy. Very messy. Not to say slovenly...

Therefore, a picture of Darcy circa 1813--when the revised novel, Pride and Prejudice as it was now called, was published--is no doubt the better choice.

Gentlemen's clothing had undergone a radical change during the early years of the 19th century. The long war with France had isolated Britain from the Parisian trend-setters who had dominated the 18th century, along with their preference for brightly coloured silks and satins. In their place, a new, austere, almost monochromatic aesthetic had taken hold, courtesy of one George Brummell, based on the finest of British tailoring, and drawing its inspiration from the military, from English horsemanship and a classical standard of masculinity as seen in the ancient Greek and Roman statuary, most notably the Apollo Belvedere.

And this ideal of "unity, simplicity and a continuously flowing movement from one part of the body to the next" is at the core of Regency menswear.

The body beneath must needs be moulded into a figure worthy of the clothes too--hence the daily exercise taken by gentlemen at the many boxing saloons, such as Gentleman Jackson's, or Fencing schools about London. Riding is also known to build strong back and shoulder muscles, as well as those of the thighs and calves. Carriage driving also requires very strong shoulders...

So, there's the man and the ideal...but what's he wearing?

Among the essentials of this new neo-classical look were breeches or pantaloons for the day, made either of doeskin or chamois leather or a soft stocking-like fabric. (If made of soft leather, often the wearer first wore them dampened, allowing them to dry to his physique so that they more closely resembled a second skin--they weren't called bum-clingers for nothing.) Both had corset lacing at the back, a fall front fastened by side buttons over the stomach, and were held up with braces to maintain the severe and fitted line over the thigh. They were also cut wider on one side at the top of the thigh, and higher on the other, to accomodate the family jewels, in a custom known as dressing to one side. Beneath the knee, button fastenings kept the fabric taut down the length of the leg.

Evening breeches or pantaloons were made of sheer black silk jersey, knitted cashmere or a stretchy silk-stockinette imported from India, made with only one seam per leg and that along the outside--though this was sometimes embroidered or 'clocked' down the length of it--all of which was intended to frame the muscles of the thigh.

For summer, the breeches would be cut the same, but made of stout pale or white linen or nankeen, a heavy twilled cotton.

Just as important was a gentleman's fitted waistcoat, which would have been made of white or skin-toned fabric--the idea being that if a gentleman were to remove his coat, in his shirtsleeves and from a distance, he would resemble nothing so much as a naked Greek god, muscular, beautiful, carved from marble or stone.

Coats were now made of dark matte fabrics such as wool Bath cloth or 'superfine', sculpted through the back and shoulders, with a high collar to provide a contrasting frame to the whiteness of the starched cravats. Our Mr. Darcy has several specialist tailors from whose work to chuse: John Weston's at No. 34 Old Bond Street, or even Mr. Brummell's favourite, Schweitzer & Davidson on Cork Street.

Beneath it all, the shirt of white linen, plain and lightly starched, with collars "so large that, before being folded down, it completely hid [the] head and face..." with tiny buttons at the neck and cuffs. Cuffs were worn long--a good inch or two longer than the coat sleeve to emphasise the fact that the gentleman did not work.

About Mr. Darcy's neck was his starched cravat.

Made of fine Irish muslin, a triangle was cut on the diagonal from a square yard of fabric, with its edges plainly stitched. This triangle was then folded twice and wrapped carefully about the neck, with the ends tied in one of several manners before the wearer lowered his chin to create a neat series of folds which were either rubbed into place by a day-old shirt or pressed with a hot iron. (I favour the day-old shirt method, myself...less danger of frying the larynx.)

Footwear? Highly polished Hessian boots with spurs by day and thinly-soled black pumps for evening.

Underwear? Very little was worn and then only rarely--it being pretty much a thing of the 18th century, although it was still in use (in cold weather, for example) and referred to as 'summer trousers'. In this look of careless, casual, sensual arrogance, there was no room for lumpy knickers or rucked up shirt tails. However, due to the transparency and cut of the tight kneebreeches and pantaloons, a lining of either flannel or cotton was sometimes incorporated into the garments.

Mr. Darcy would have dressed some three or four times during the course of a normal day.

He would also have required, per week, in addition to the usual "20 shirts, 24 pocket handkerchiefs, 9 or 10 summer trousers, 30 neck handkerchiefs, a dozen waistcoats, and stockings at discretion", a chintz dressing gown and Turkish slippers for taking his breakfast.

He would also have several driving coats and/or greatcoats, caped, and made of a heavier wool worsted or "Norwich stuff" for colder, rainier weather (read every day from September to May and most of June).

Like Brummell and other gentlemen of his class and station, Darcy would have bathed every part of his body every day, and in hot water. He would have used no perfumes (they were considered very 18th century!) but smelled instead of very fine linen and country washing.

So there he is--drab greatcoat emphasising the width of his shoulders, thigh-hugging doeskin breeches, pale waistcoat, dark coat (navy, grey or black being the preferred colours), and pristine white cravat and collarpoints outlining the strength of his jaw. Polished Hessians are on his feet.

Does he not look fine? Every inch a god?

So now...let's take it off.

His high-crowned bevor, his cane, his gloves and his greatcoat he has, fortunately, left with the footman belowstairs. The door is shut.

His boots (with or without horse muck on them) have been left at the door or really anywhere but in the bedchamber, if at all possible. There are two reasons for this. One, this may be a good idea at a time when there are no Dysons or Hoovers. But also, the method of removing one's boots generally required the backside of another person, and gentlemen didn't much care for bootjacks as it was said to break down the back of the boot. Equally, the reason a gentleman did not 'sit down in all his dirt' was a pungent one.

So shoes are a better bet. Easier to slip off.

And it all starts this way: with the the kissing...this could go on for a long time. A very long time. Because the most important thing is always that his Eliza feels and knows that her wishes and desires are paramount to his.

Then, the coat comes off. It's easier, I'll be frank, if she'll slips her hands upward from his chest toward his shoulders and lifts it away from him. But assuming she's not forward and that he doesn't have his coats cut so as to make removing them akin to peeling an obstreperous orange, he shrugs the thing off, first one shoulder, then the other, all the while still kissing her.

Then, the waistcoat. Button by tiny button. All eleven or so of the things. More than that if the waistcoat is double breasted. And with each button, a sensation of incremental yet greater sensual liberty is attained.

The waistcoat now on the floor with the coat, Darcy slides his index finger into the front of that knot of white linen at the base of the throat and pulls. And index finger into the remaining tied-bit and pulls. And freedom. And the end of the cravat is yanked and pulled off and discarded onto the floor.

Then he takes down his braces, first one, then the other.

And finally, he undoes the small Dorset buttons at his neck and cuffs. But being not a little impatient, he pulls the shirt off over his head without unbuttoning it all the way.

But the removal of the shirt only happens when she wishes it to happen. For all the time, his removal of his clothes is secondary to touching her, kissing her, telling her in every wordless way that her beauty blocks out the sky and the stars and is all that he sees.

And that's how he did it.

"To teach thee, I am naked first..." John Donne

M.M. Bennetts is a specialist in early nineteenth-century British and European history, and the author of two historical novels set in the period - May 1812 and Of Honest Fame. Find out more at www.mmbennetts.com.

The Harlot Who Was Dickens’ Muse, or, Even Greater Expectations

2012-02-10T23:09:00.000-08:00

by Katherine Ashe

This is the story of a British author’s inspiration. It happens his muse was an American woman. She fits into the history of British letters for she was the inspiration for Miss Havisham, the bitter spinster jilted at the altar who is the central character of Great Expectations. Just how far may an novel depart from the facts of its inspiration? Very far indeed.

Granted, Dickens met her when she was an old woman, a wealthy dowager living in a mansion in New York City’s then fashionable Harlem. She was Madame Jumel, widow of the wealthy French liquor importer, Stephen Jumel, and wealthy even more in her own right, for she had cornered the Manhattan real estate market just as farms were being divided into the blocks now demarcated from 14th Street to 34th Street. She was, by her own effort, the richest woman in the western world.

She entertained Charles Dickens during one of his American tours. And astonished him by showing him her dining room, festooned with cobwebs, scattered with green and rock hard crumbs. For the room was her relic of the night she entertained Joseph Bonaparte, the Emperor of France’s brother.

Also, in her household was a little girl, actually her sister’s granddaughter, whom she was training to entrance men with her charms. A little boy was even provided for the child to practice upon. Thus Eliza Jumel came to inspire the character of the raddled, embittered, jilted-at-the altar Miss Havisham, of Great Expectations.

Dickens noted what he saw, and wrote the story that sprang to his mind. But the truth of Madame Jumel could not have been further from Miss Havisham.

We know the actual details of Eliza’s life because, after her death, the son, George Washington Bowen, whom she left in Providence, Rhode Island, to be brought up in the brothel of Mother Freelove Ballou, sued to gain her estate. A parade of witnesses, from her own servants in New York, to the Governor of Rhode Island himself who, from his childhood, remembered her as Betsy Bowen, the tart of the dockyards.

The revelations left New York scandalized, titillated, entranced. Madame Jumel was eccentric, yes. A few years before her death she had offered charity to homeless men during an economic crash. The men found themselves dressed in uniforms (designed and paid for by Madame) and being drilled daily by the lady herself astride her charger. She was preparing to invade of Mexico and make herself an empress. If this sounds like utter madness, it wasn’t quite. She was carrying forward the plans of her second husband, Aaron Burr.

What was Madame’s heritage? She was born Eliza (Betsy) Bowen, the daughter of a servant girl who, very unfortunately, previously had become pregnant and was cast into the streets of Providence. There she was first rescued by a brothel owner named Solomon Angel (one would not dare to make these names up) who handed her on to Mother Freelove.

In 1775 the now confirmed harlot, Phoebe, attracted the attention of a gentleman visiting Providence, and he took such an interest in her that he gave her enough money to stay off the streets for a while. During her time of absence from her profession, Phoebe discovered she was pregnant, and the child she bore was Eliza. The father, she informed Eliza, was none other than George Washington.

While still sheltered from life on the streets, Phoebe married a fisherman named Bowen, and the baby Eliza was given his name. But Bowen soon fell from his boat in a drunken stupor and was drowned.

Phoebe and Eliza were back at Mother Freelove’s, where Eliza, or Betsy as she was being called, grew to be a lively beauty and a great asset to the establishment. That is, until a French sea captain named DelaCroix, finding her not only winsome but quite intelligent as well, lured her to France. There he taught her French, and she joined several other of his protégées in his remarkable business.

Betsy, speaking French now, was set up by Captain DelaCroix in New York City and passed off as his wife. The aim was to entrap rich men into affairs with this lonely, lovely French wife. Then the captain would appear in the midst of a scene flagrant and the fearful lover would find himself the victim of blackmail. Charming, n’est pas?

New York City was prosperous and merry in these early years of the 1800’s, and Eliza’s victims included the very best people. But there were two men who escaped being her victims: Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr. Hamilton, because gossip had it he as a love-child of George Washington’s – hence Eliza may have considered him her brother – and she did have SOME standards, you know.

Burr, because she fell in love with him, and he got rid of Captain DelaCroix for her and set her up in a career in the theater.

On the stage she was not nearly the success she had been in the boudoir, but she did well enough to dazzle an acquaintance of Burr, the liquor importer Stephen Jumel, a Frenchman with his own fleet of ships. Her French was sufficiently convincing even to fool him.

Soon Eliza gave up the stage and was installed as Jumel’s mistress, with the clothes, the coach, the house: all the accoutrements of a wife except the legality. Why did Burr give her up? He was pursuing a political career. A career that would bring him repeatedly into tied vote with Thomas Jefferson for the Presidency of the United States. He couldn’t afford a woman with Eliza’s reputation. But there’s every indication that he loved her, and her acquisition by Jumel may have done nothing to slow him down—at first.

Secure and rich, Eliza now set her sites to the next step up: official marriage to Jumel. The businessman was frantically summoned to return at once from a trip to Washington. What he found was Eliza, pale, coughing her last, attended by his doctor and a priest. History has it that, in tears, he begged his mistress if there was anything he could do for her in these, her last moments, and she murmured, “Yes, Stephen, make an honest woman of me.” The priest was there, the rite was performed, and Eliza leapt from her deathbed screaming, “I’m Mrs. Jumel!”

Jumel was known for his practical jokes. He took this one in good part, and married Eliza again, properly in a church.

It was about this time that Burr found his access to his beloved curbed. The doors of the Jumel house were mysteriously closed to him. And it was at this time that his exchange of letters with Alexander Hamilton, which led to their fatal duel, commenced. The letters show Burr being vague in his complaint. He had withstood Hamilton’s politically aimed slanders for years without wincing, but now he was implacable but rather vague. Hamilton tried every means to appease his opponent, until at last Burr accused him of having irreparably impaired his private life. He demanded Hamilton “give satisfaction” and the duel took place on the cliff at Weehawken, New Jersey. Was the cause Eliza? Had Hamilton hinted to Jumel an ongoing relationship that caused Burr’s banning from the Jumel house?

After the duel, which brought on Hamilton’s slow death, Burr retreated to Washington to serve out his term as Vice-President of the United States. He had been the runner-up in the Jefferson/Burr presidential election and Vice Presidents then were the number two winner.

Dueling was of course illegal, officially Burr had murdered Hamilton, but in Washington, so long as he was serving in office, Burr couldn’t be touched by the law. His term finished, he fled west-- to found an army to invade Mexico and establish a dominion for himself. Unfortunately, Jefferson took fright, imagine the army was intended to abduct HIM. The law was sent after Burr and he was brought back ignominiously (he was a small man) tied on a lawman’s saddlebow. But accusations didn’t stick, and Burr ended exiled to France.

What was Mrs. Jumel doing all this time? Finding herself in such happy circumstances, she went to Providence hoping to rescue her sister. Their mother was dead by this time: shot as a squatter in an illegal shack. The sister, Eliza discovered, was also dead, found floating in Providence’s harbor. But she had left a little girl, named Eliza, who was beginning the cycle of their family’s sad history again, as a servant. Madame Jumel bought little Eliza out of servitude and made her an adoptive daughter.

Then she set about creating what was probably the first historical restoration in the United States, now known as the Morris Jumel Mansion (it claims to be the oldest house in Manhattan and can be can be visited: http://www.morrisjumel.org)

Why did Eliza do this? Built in 1765, this magnificent home of a royalist, Roger Morris, had been abandoned as the Continental Army moved into New York, and it came to serve as George Washington’s headquarters.

After the war it had degenerated into a country inn. Eliza persuaded Jumel to buy it, then spared no expense in restoring it, and magnificently furnishing its octagon ballroom. For this was to be the occasion of her entry into New York high society.

It was a grand event, no doubt. But it backfired. A guest brought a friend who was none other than the Governor of Rhode Island, who remembered Eliza as Betsy of the dock and streets, and he told Jumel a bit of his wife’s early history.

Years later, the servants reported how Jumel confronted Eliza – and she fought back. Had she not been a good wife? A good mother to their adopted daughter? How dare he take the word of a stranger above what he knew of her himself! And she brought from her capacious skirt’s pocket the little pistol he had given her. Jumel was reduced to tears, begging her not to shoot. Indeed, how could he have been so foolish? So cruel? Could she forgive him? If she only would forgive him, he would take her and little Eliza on a trip to France on his flagship named for her, the Eliza.

Eliza relented and put away her gun. And the Jumels went to France on the Eliza.

But nothing in Eliza’s life could be so ordinary as a shopping trip to Paris. Approaching her port of la Rochelle, the Eliza was battered by storms and driven south, taking shelter in the Gironde, near Bordeaux, to make repairs. There, a boat filled with magnificently uniformed French officers hailed them and asked to come aboard.

It seemed that Napoleon had just lost the Battle of Waterloo. He was intending to flee to America but his ship was trapped at La Rochelle, unable to leave harbor because of the storm. The American ship had been seen trying to beat her way in, then turning south. The Emperor’s aide de camp, Lelande, had been sent to see if that American ship could be found, and if it would be willing to rescue Napoleon and take him to where he might start a new life. The vanquished Emperor hoped to retire to a farm in New Jersey.

Of course the Jumels agreed. But by the time Lelande reached La Rochelle, the British had closed off the harbor. In despair, Napoleon had surrendered. In thanks, he sent Lelande back to the Jumels with a gift; his coach and his personal effects, all that remained of his earthy possessions.

The Jumels entered Paris in the Emperor’s wreath-emblazoned coach – and they were the only ones who knew what had become of Napoleon. Soon they were deep in efforts to free the Emperor, and Eliza was the darling of the Paris aristocracy. Forget about those parvenu snobs in New York City!

But soon the Jumels were near bankruptcy, attempting to fund the Emperor’s restoration.
There was the house in New York, and Stephen’s warehouses, they were worth something. Eliza insisted that only she knew the mansion’s worth, so she should return and see to its sale, while Stephen remained, seeing to their interests in Paris.

In New York, the first person Eliza contacted was Aaron Burr, who was returned from his French exile and had a small law practice now in Lower Manhattan. Burr advised Eliza to keep the house and rent it, and sell the warehouses. He would guide her in her investments of the proceeds. Thus Eliza got into the business of real estate speculation. How much was Burr’s work and how much Eliza’s will never be known, but in a few years she could move from her miserable room in a Long Island farmhouse back into her mansion with riches to spare.

Stephen returned from France. Life was idyllic; the mansion’s hilltop lands stretched down on each side to the Hudson and the East River, and the view from the master bedroom’s balcony reached (with a spy glass) to the harbor. Stephen, elderly now, loved his land, and rode the hay wagon up to the house with the last load of haying. He slipped off, broke his arm, the arm became gangrenous and soon he died.

Eliza was a very rich widow. Burr wasted little time. He brought a clergyman to visit. Aaron Burr and Eliza Betsy Bowen Jumel were married. During their divorce proceedings, which happened fairly soon afterward, she said he had forced her and embarrassed her into marrying him. And she accused her hasty husband of infidelity already.

It seemed that Burr, still entranced by the opportunities out West, sold one of Eliza’s carriages and its fine team of horse, and gave the proceeds to a woman who was leading a group of settlers westward. In a terrific argument in the mansion’s hall, Eliza insisted the woman was his mistress. He swore she was not, and then and there suffered a stroke. Crippled, barley able to speak, Burr insisted on being taken from the house, down the length of Manhattan to his office.

Paralysed, poverty-stricken, unable to pay his office’s rent, he ended living at the mercy of a kind woman innkeeper on Staten Island. It was there that Eliza’s lawyer, Alexander Hamilton Junior, handed Burr the final papers of divorce. Burr took the documents, saying, “I have always loved women…” and died. One might say he died at the hands of his victim Hamilton’s son.

Did Eliza regret her actions? She took up Burr’s project of invading Mexico and made it her own. But she died in her bed, composing a polite letter to a friend.

Madame Jumel, the inspiration for Miss Havisham, was a far cry from a jilted and embittered spinster.

Katherine Ashe is the author of the Montfort series; Montfort The Early Years, Montfort The Viceroy; Montfort The Revolutionary and Montfort The Angel with the Sword. Her radio series on Eliza Jumel, The Richest Woman in the Western World, starring Kathleen Widdoes, was broadcast on Public Radio in 1992.

‘Capital Improvement’, by Lady A~, the authoress of 'The Bath Novels of Lady A~' Collection

2012-02-09T22:54:00.000-08:00

My compass for anything and everything historical is always set on the English Regency period, an era made hugely popular and famous in contemporary times thanks to the ‘mistresspieces’ of the late, great Jane Austen. Hence, I like to call it, the ‘Regaustenian’ era of English history. Besides the fascinations of the writer herself and the obvious allure of her novels, the Regency created an ideal backdrop for someone of Jane’s singular mindset—and her satirical-political commentary. It was an era that uncannily mirrored our own and, in many ways, set the trends for the things that have become an integral part of modern society and popular culture. One of those ‘things’ was the very intriguing ‘improvement’ trend, which permeated through Regency society from the top down, beginning in the eighteenth century. The very enlightened Prince Regent was a great ‘improver’ of everything, from parks to palaces, and even Jane’s family got caught up in the craze when the grounds of the rectory at Steventon, too, underwent ‘improvement’. Landowners all over the Empire, from the aristocracy to the gentry, were employing the principles of improvement. From landscapes, gardens and agriculture to art, music, manufacture and science, just about everyone was wanting to improve something. Essentially it was the beginning of the consumerist society that we have all evolved in to, today. And, as surely in our own social hierarchies, the trend began to divide Regency society into distinct groups—the meritocrats and the mercenaries. Not unlike the worldly Crawfords in Mansfield Park, there were those that used their wealth and influence to effect changes that were as brash and they were reckless. Only think of the ‘capital improver…. brought up in a school of luxury and epicurism’, Henry Crawford, whose infamous reputation as a change-merchant spurs the droll Mr. Rushworth into a rash improvement plan of his own. Coopting Crawford into a trip to evaluate the questionably fashionable overhaul of his own ‘noblest old place in the world’, Sotherton, even ‘creep-mouse’ little Fanny Price begins to bewail the effects of its certain outcome—one being the loss of an ancient avenue of oak trees—and to decry it with the libertarian-poet Cowper’s line: 'Oh ye fallen avenues, once more I mourn your fate unmerited.'

And this was where the improvement divide began to show itself, very clearly, in a ‘moralized landscape’. There were those who instilled ‘merit’ in change and those who did nothing of the sort. Essentially ‘contrivance’ versus utilization. Particularly in landscape design these two camps spiritedly challenged one another and Humphry Repton, mentioned, oddly enough (and perhaps a revelation of Rushworth’s lack of information), several times in the Sotherton conversation in Mansfield Park, became a champion of the utilitarian landscape. He advocated against ‘contrived irregularity’; the sort of quick-fix, disrespectful and dysfunctional, pseudo-natural makeover that the likes of Mr. Rushworth and Henry Crawford wildly support.

This ‘fashionable picturesque’, as touted by Richard Payne Knight and Uvedale Price, was contested by Repton who preferred converting estate grounds into natural landscapes from which a host of benefits were derived—from ‘social convenience’ to productive and efficient husbandry. Naturally the latter translated into allowing the much poorer tenants of the progressive landlord, of such a property, to put food on their tables more abundantly and sustain independent livelihoods. Contrast this with the mercenary ‘contrivers’ who often enclosed commons [common pastures] to simply improve the aspect of their view, while turning their tenants into laborers by usurping the public grazing land for the latter’s livestock. In such a light, the lay of the moralized landscape becomes much more distinctive under the influence of improvement.

In Merits and Mercenaries, the first ‘Bath Novel’ of my seven-book The Bath Novels of Lady A~ Collection, I wanted to highlight this trend, in particular, and its allegorical effects through a consumerist society of meritocrats and mercenaries, whose ideals and ideas turn into a veritable ‘war’. My hero, William Halford, for instance, is the epitome of the progressive improvers/meritocrats, and his acts of ‘enclosure’ on his estate are put to good effect in a ‘civic sense of responsibility’, allowing such ‘reclamation’ to ‘benefit all of the community that live off and farm on his land’. Additionally, he also applies this to the renovation of his ancestral home, which has been remodeled with every attention to ‘history, nature and art’. When his house-party guests arrive for the summer it is immediately apparent who blends well into such a milieu and who doesn’t—and why. Indeed, as the reader comes to understand William’s rectitude and libertarian mindset, so too, one is called to think of the characters that Jane Austen crafted working for—and against—such tenets, and how these shaped the characters of her most memorable casts. Darcy immediately comes to mind in this reflection, his Pemberley estate being ‘balanced’ upon the very criteria that inspired William’s just ‘realm’ in M&M, and so revealing the probity and moral nature of the man. In the same vein, Darcy’s aunt, Lady Catherine is exposed as a shameless consumer and Rosings is deliberately set in stark contrast to Pemberley, which has nothing ‘neither gaudy nor uselessly fine’.

In looking at the arrangement of each of Austen’s characters’ respective properties, tacitly or overtly reflecting improvement, one can determine what sort of people live in them, so much so, that the houses become ‘characters’ in their own right; hence, I conjecture, the choice of Mansfield Park as the title of her third (and most complex) novel.

When Fanny is enduring the rigors of ‘grog’ and ‘clatter’ in her slovenly parents’ home in Portsmouth, she is called to think of the ‘elegance, propriety, regularity, harmony … and … peace and tranquility of Mansfield’; again, an implicit reference to the home being in perfect balance with nature and art, so as to inspire order and harmony in ways that reveal the moral compass of those living in it. In Mansfield’s case, Fanny is the character most compatible with such a ‘balance’ in its elegant environment of propriety; the one most susceptible to, and benefiting from, ‘improvement’, while, in Portsmouth, her Mansfield upbringing is physically and psychologically ‘scuttled’ by the disorder and mayhem of her family’s abysmal abode and shiftless values.

Compare this with Austen's explicit expose, in Northanger Abbey, of the effects of improvement in General Tilney’s rapacious and despotic succession-houses’ enclosure: ‘The walls seemed countless in number, endless in length; a village of hot-houses seemed to arise among them, and a whole parish to be at work within the inclosure’. Here the General is doing exactly the opposite of what William Halford progressively effects in Merits and Mercenaries, by forcing the parish to labor in his aptly named ‘forcing-houses’; thus appropriating his tenants’ former livelihoods by his autocratic encroachment. Austen is very obviously drawing an overt parallel with this unjust ‘inclosure’ with the intrinsic nature of the General’s very questionable character and ethics.

Certainly the improvement trend is one of those socio-political, Austenian litmus tests which gets to the heart of class warfare in Austen’s novels and, in so doing, clarifies the significant theme of rational meritocracy versus entrenched elitism in Regency society. It weaves in the fabric of the latter, for good or for bad, the very nature of its morality or immorality and which Austen, then, scrutinizes so superlatively in her delicious microcosms of ‘3 or 4 families in a country village’. Thus the ‘prospect’ of the landscape or the houses established on it, in the light of implicit or explicit improvement, becomes something much more than a mere observation of aesthetic value. It foreshadows the prospects of the families and parties connected to the property, how their relative progressive or consumerist policies will determine their inevitable outcomes, and to which Regaustenian camp they will be ultimately assigned/relegated by so inimitable an author: Austen's most memorable meritocrats or her very machinating mercenaries.

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Why I Love Eleanor of Aquitaine

2012-02-08T21:54:00.000-08:00

by Christy English

I love to write about Eleanor of Aquitaine because she always surprises me. Even though she is an historical figure and the events of her life are set in stone, the character of Eleanor as she comes to life in my novels always teaches me something new. On the pages of history books her life was dynamic enough: Duchess of Aquitaine at the age of fifteen, Eleanor finished brokering her own marriage to Louis VII of France.

King Louis VII of France

Eleanor’s First Husband

Years later, Eleanor rode at her husband’s side on Crusade, and on her way home, sick of being married to Louis, she began working to annul her marriage. Only months after she earned her freedom, Eleanor married her second husband, Henry of Normandy who became King of England two years later…and that is just the first half of her life. So you see what I mean when I say Eleanor of Aquitaine was a dynamic woman.

Henry II, King of England

Eleanor’s Second Husband

Nothing stopped Eleanor from achieving her goals. For decades, she wanted the County of Toulouse back under the control of her family. After sending both husbands out to reclaim it through warfare (and after both men failed), she simply arranged her daughter’s marriage to the Count of Toulouse, effectively putting her family in line to inherit that county, and thus to take control of it once more. Eleanor would wait for years for what she wanted. Tenacious and single minded, she was an amazing politician.

Much to both her husbands’ annoyance: Louis would have been perfectly happy if Eleanor had settled down to raise her princesses quietly, if she had left the political machinations of the day to him. And her second husband, King Henry II of England, married her for her brains and beauty as well as her land, but even he came to regret her brilliance as the years wore on. For after years of partnership, Eleanor began to want more power of her own. In 1173, she reached out for that power, setting her sons against their father so that she might gain indirect control of the duchies of Brittany and Normandy, in addition to the duchy of Aquitaine.

Henry locked Eleanor away in 1174 to keep his crown and to keep his sons at bay. Henry always knew that if he set Eleanor free, she would stop at nothing to take his Continental holdings from him. And she was the one person on Earth who had a fighting chance of doing it; so he kept her locked away until his death.

The Great Hall of Winchester Castle

Which served as one of Eleanor’s prisons

Once Henry was dead, Eleanor ruled through her favorite son, Richard. Richard the Lionhearted rode off to Crusade to seek the Holy Grail of Jerusalem, leaving the Continental holdings inherited from his father in Eleanor’s hands. She was technically regent of England, too, while Richard was on Crusade, but she had spent more than enough time locked away in England during the last 15 years of Henry II’s reign. She left that cold, rainy land to the tender mercies of her youngest son, John, for she finally had what she wanted: control over most of what is now modern France.

King Richard the Lionhearted

Eleanor’s Favorite Son

Eleanor was unstoppable. She was brave and beautiful and so full of fire that both her critics and her admirers agreed: she was stronger than any woman they had ever seen. She is the strongest woman I have ever had the pleasure to write about, and the most dynamic. She is a woman who would be renowned in any age. Which is why, over 800 years later, we still remember her.

Christy English is the author of TO BE QUEEN; A NOVEL OF THE EARLY LIFE OF ELEANOR OF AQUITAINE and THE QUEEN'S PAWN. For more on her thoughts about writing and her ongoing love affair with Eleanor of Aquitaine, please visit her website http://www.ChristyEnglish.com

Eccentric Aristocrats

2012-02-07T20:25:00.000-08:00

by Regina Jeffers

When we think of the aristocracy, we assume a life immersed in riches and leisure. We rarely think of how such decadence could be skewed. Meet some of those whose "quirks" set them apart from their peers.

William Thomas Beckford (1 October 1760 – 2 May 1844), was an English novelist, a profligate and consummately knowledgeable art collector and patron of works of decorative art, a critic, travel writer and sometimes politcian, reputed to be the richest commoner in England. He was Member of Parliament for Wells from 1784 to 1790, for Hindon from 1790 to 1795 and 1806 to 1820. He is remembered as the author of the Gothic novel Vathek, the builder of the remarkable lost Fonthill Abbey and Landsdown Tower ("Beckford's Tower"), Bath, and especially for his art collection.

On 5 May 1783 he married Lady Margaret Gordon, daughter of the fourth Earl of Aboyne. However, Beckford was bisexual, and was hounded out of polite English society when his letters to the Hon. William Courtenay, later 9th Earl of Devon, were intercepted by the boy's uncle, who advertised the affair in the newspapers. Beckford chose exile in the company of his wife, whom he grew to love deeply, but who died in childbirth at the age of 24. He had an affair with his cousin Peter's wife Louisa Pitt (c.1755-1791).

At Fonthill Abbey, Beckford refused the use of servants’ bells in the rooms, except the one his daughter, the Duchess of Hamilton, used. Instead, his servants were made to crouch in low, narrow ante-rooms so that they could respond immediately to his command. When traveling, he took his French cook with him to prepare his omelettes, as well as transporting his bed for a good night’s sleep. Although Beckford rarely entertained, he often order an elaborate dinner set for twelve. However, Beckford would dine in solitude, eating only one course and sending back the rest.

William Lamb, 2nd Viscount Melbourne, (15 March 1779 – 24 November 1848) was a British Whig statesman who served as Home Secretary (1830–1834) and Prime Minister (1834 and 1835–1841). He is best known for his intense and successful mentoring of Queen Victoria, at ages 18–21, in the ways of politics. Historians conclude that Melbourne does not rank high as a prime minister, for there were no great foreign wars or domestic issues to handle, he lacked major achievements and enunciated no grand principles. "But he was kind, honest, and not self-seeking." Melbourne held a great dislike for carrying a watch, but with his position, he must be on time for appointments and other matters of business. Therefore, he would shout out to his servants for the time.

Adeline Louisa Maria, Countess of Cardigan and Lancastre (24 December 1824 - 25 May 1915) was the second wife of English peer James Brudenell, 7th Earl of Cardigan, who led the Charge of the Light Brigade, and later the wife of the Portuguese nobleman Don António Manuel de Saldanha e Lancastre, Conde de Lancastre. She was the author of scandalous memoirs, My Recollections, published in 1909 under the name Adeline Louisa Maria de Horsey Cardigan and Lancastre, though strictly speaking she was not allowed by the rules governing the British peerage to join her former and current titles together. Her book detailed events and people coupled with gossip concerning the establishment of Victorian England. After her marriage to the Earl of Cardigan in 1858, Queen Victoria had refused to have her at court because Cardigan had left his first wife after wooing her away from her husband, Lt. Col. Christian Johnstone, a childhood friend. Adeline liked to “dress” for dinner: she would often appear as a nun or a Spanish dancer. In her final years, she kept her coffin in the hallway. Several times per day, she ordered her butler to lift her into the box to assure herself that she fit.

Henry Cavendish (10 October 1731–24 February 1810) was a British scientist noted for his discovery of hydrogen or what he called "inflammable air.” Cavendish lived the life of a recluse. He would communicate with his housekeeper by scribbling messages that he left on a table outside his bedroom. He was also known to dismiss any female servant to cross his path during the day. The female servants were to be neither SEEN nor HEARD.

George William Francis Sackville Russell, 10th Duke of Bedford (16 April 1852 – 23 March 1893) was a Liberal member of Parliament for Bedfordshire between 1875 and 1885, when the constituency was abolished. He was High Sheriff of Bedfordshire in 1889. In 1891, Russell inherited the title of Duke of Bedford, together with Woburn Abbey and several other estates, which went with it. Like Cavendish, Bedford was something of a recluse. He would dismiss any female servant he encountered after noon, when her work must be completed.

Francis Henry Egerton, 8th Earl of Bridgewater (11 November 1756–11 February 1829), known as Francis Egerton until 1823, was a noted British eccentric, and supporter of natural theology. Egerton was known for giving dinner parties for dogs, where the dogs were dressed in the finest fashions of the day, down to fancy miniature shoes. Each day Egerton wore a new pair of shoes, and he arranged the worn shoes into rows, so that he could measure the passing time. An animal lover, Egerton kept partridges and pigeons with clipped wings in his garden, allowing him to shoot them despite failing eyesight. Egerton never married, and upon his death, his title became extinct.

William John Cavendish Cavendish-Scott-Bentinck, 5th Duke of Portland (12 September 1800 – 6 December 1879), styled Lord William Cavendish-Scott-Bentinck before 1824 and Marquess of Titchfield between 1824 and 1854, was a British aristocrat eccentric who preferred to live in seclusion. He had an underground maze excavated under his estate at Welbeck Abbey near Clumber Park in North Nottinghamshire.

Welbeck Abbey contains none of the normal show of grandeur. The rooms were stripped of portraits and tapestries. The rooms were painted pink and touted bare parquetry floors, with no furniture other than a commode. The Duke lived in 5 rooms in the west wing. They, too, were sparsely furnished. The 22 acres’ kitchen gardens had braziers within the walls to help ripen the fruit. A riding house (396 feet x 108 feet x 50 feet) was lit by 4000 gas jets. The Duke’s stables contained 100 horses, but he never rode them in the riding house. One can also find a roller skating rink.

Underground, one finds a series of tunnels and usable rooms. Totaling 15 miles, the tunnels connected the underground rooms to those above ground level. There was a 1000 yards tunnel that connected the house to the riding house. These were not narrow crawl-through structures. Instead, a person could stand upright within them. One tunnel, 1.25 miles long, ran northeast from the coach house to South Lodge. Reportedly, within, carriages going in opposite directions could pass each other safely. Domed skylights and gaslights illuminated the tunnel.

Like those above ground, those underground chambers were painted pink. A great hall, which served as a chapel, a portrait gallery, and occasionally as a ballroom, was 160 feet long and 63 feet wide. Reportedly, the ballroom was equipped with a hydraulic lift that could carry 20 guests from the surface to the ballroom. The ceiling was painted to represent a setting sun. One could also find a 250-foot long library, an observatory with a large glass roof, and a vast billiards room.

Cameos, Silhouettes and Cartes de Visite

2012-02-06T21:43:00.000-08:00

by Debra Brown

Once upon a time there were no cameras. Really! Not even cell phone cameras. People wanted images of their loved ones, or of themselves to share. No doubt sketches and carvings were made from earliest times on whatever materials could be obtained. The likeness of the person would depend upon the skills of the artist and other factors, such as materials.

This is a sketch of Jane Austen from A Memoir of Jane Austen in 1870. It is based on a drawing done by her sister Cassandra, which contemporaries did not consider to be a successful likeness.

Perhaps Cassandra's watercolor is more accurate.

Skilled artists were sought by those who could afford their services. One early form of likeness is the cameo. Ancient cameos were often made from semiprecious gemstone, usually onyx or agate, where two contrasting colors meet. Less expensive cameos are made from shell or glass. Artistic cameos were made in Greece as far back as the 3rd Century BC. They were very popular amongst the Augustus family of ancient Rome.

Shown here is a cameo portrait of Augustus. Sardonyx cameo; gilt silver mount with pearls, sapphires and red glass beads, 16-17th centuries. Photography: © Marie-Lan Nguyen / Wikimedia Commons

Revivals in popularity of the cameo have occurred periodically. The first such revival in Britain was during the reigns of George III and later his granddaughter, Queen Victoria, to the extent that they were being mass produced during the latter half of the 19th Century.

French Finance Minister Etienne de Silhouette cut black profiles as a hobby. The cuttings were originally called profile miniatures or shades. The name silhouette was in use by the early 19th Century. These provided family members with a likeness that was much less expensive than a painted miniature, and it is thought that Silhouette's name became associated with them because of his severe economic policies. The likeness could be cut by a skilled artist in minutes using paper and scissors. At times, gold accents and colored paint were used to add interest. The cost of a silhouette could run from a shilling to more than a guinea.

Resort and spa towns came to have at least one silhouettist. The daughter of King George III, Princess Elizabeth, was an amateur in the field. Materials used included paper, wax, glass or plaster. More costly silhouettes were framed. A famous English artist was John Miers (1756-1821), who began his career in Liverpool and then moved to a London studio at No. 111 Strand in 1788. He charged a guinea per silhouette. Some that he did on ivory came to be used in rings, lockets and bracelets.

Silhouette presumed to be Jane Austen. 4 in. x 3 1/8 in. National Portrait Gallery, London, 1810.

Scherenschnitt (Silhouette) von Ferdinand Ernst von Waldstein in Ludwig van Beethovens Stammbuch

A silhouette might be done, along with a poem, to remember a departed loved one.

A proliferation of unskilled artists took up the lucrative trade, decreasing its popularity. Then another advent threatened the silhouette medium: commercial photography. In 1854, a Parisian photographer named Andre Disderi patented a multilensed camera which produced eight small likenesses on one large glass negative. The resulting print was cut, the portraits were trimmed, and they were then mounted on cards measuring two and a half by four inches. This was the usual size of a visiting card, and so these photos were dubbed cartes de visite. In 1859, Napoleon III had his photograph made up in this manner, initiating a craze throughout Europe, and then in America, called cardomania. The craze reached England in 1861 when J.E. Mayall took carte de visite portraits of the royal family. Soon, studios opened in every town. A photographer in Bath reportedly sold between sixty and seventy thousand cards in a single year.

By the third quarter of the 19th Century, hardback, leather-covered photograph albums with stiff cardboard pages, often decorated with drawings, were to be found in most Victorian parlors. Cartes de visite featuring famous personalities were added to these family albums, with crowds gathering whenever shop windows displayed the latest. Actors and society, political, clerical and military figures, and especially the royal family, were in great demand. When the prince consort died, not less than seventy thousand of his cartes were ordered from Marion and Company of Regent Street. Cartes de visite were eventually made in larger, cabinet print size.

Thomas Stevens introduced something new in 1879- the silk-woven picture or Stevengraph. Two scenes of local interest were woven on a loom. These sold for a shilling, with new pictures being issued once a month. Portraits were later done in this manner, featuring members of the royal family, sportsmen of the day and so on. By the early twentieth century, even silk-woven postcards portraying famous passenger liners were sold as souvenirs to passengers aboard the ships.

***

Debra Brown is the author of The Companion of Lady Holmeshire, an early Victorian mystery with sweet romance. Watch for her second novel, For the Skylark, in 2012.

Website

1. The Writer's Guide to Everyday Life in Regency and Victorian England From 1811-1901 by Kristine Hughes.

2. Wikipedia

3. Pictures from Wikipedia and Wikimedia.

King Charles II, a Randy Rowley Monarch

2012-02-05T22:39:00.000-08:00

by Katherine Pym

King Charles II loved women. He loved sex. Most historical fiction and nonfiction books state this. He had a wife who could not go full term in her pregnancies, which Charles mourned, but he received solace throughout the years with his many mistresses. He had, according to my count, fourteen mistresses and fourteen illegitimate children, but not all his mistresses bore him children. A few mistresses gave King Charles II a ‘quiver full’ of children. With so many mistresses, sometimes more than one at a time, the king enlisted Sir Henry Bennet, 1^st Earl of Arlington, keeper of the privy purse, to help. Charles used Bennet as the procurer and management of the royal mistresses to keep things steady in the royal bedchamber.

Not always satisfied with his mistresses or wife, women from local surrounds were snuck up the privy stairs to Randy Rowley’s bedchamber. There they stayed a few hours for romps and frolics, then sent packing.

The king had problems with his mistresses. He had been heard to complain how frustrating it was for them to find other lovers or go back to their husbands. Apparently, what was good for the goose was not so good for the gander.

We know of his mistresses Barbara Villiers, Nell Gwynn, and Louise de Kéroualle (whom the king called ‘Fubbs’). But I like the following, either more interesting or lesser known:

According to Alison Weir, the mother of Charles’s firstborn was Marguerite de Carteret, the daughter of George de Carteret of Jersey in the Channel Islands. Born 1646, the child was christened James, his official father being Jean de la Cloche. He is often referred to as James de Carteret. As a Protestant, James was educated in France and the Netherlands. Records state he died 1667.

Lucy Walter, who Charles met whilst in The Hague. John Evelyn described her as ‘brown, beautiful, bold, but insipid’. Born in a Welsh Royalist family, she was with Charles in 1648, and gave birth to a son also named James in 1649, only months after Charles I had been beheaded. Lucy died in Paris 1658, they believe from syphilis.

Lucy’s child was known as James Scott, originally called James Crofts or James Fitzroy. His royal father ‘recognized him’ in 1663, and the Crown bestowed upon him the title: Duke of Monmouth. This son turned leader when he tried to unseat his uncle, King James II, who openly practiced Roman Catholicism, whilst, he, the Duke of Monmouth was Protestant, and son of Charles II. He felt he was the rightful heir to the throne. The Duke of Monmouth was executed as a traitor 1685 after the battle of Sedgemoor.

Elizabeth Killigrew the sister of Thomas Killigrew of theatre renown. Thomas and his sister spent time in exile with the king. Thomas became Master of Revels while Elizabeth was maid-of-honor to Charles’s mother. Married to Francis Boyle, 1^st Viscount Shannon, Elizabeth cuckolded him. She gave birth to a Charles’s daughter in 1650, named Charlotte Jemima Henrietta Maria FitzRoy.

Catherine Pegge, Lady Greene, came from the Pegge family of Yeldersley in Derbyshire. She bore Charles II a son named Charles FitzCharles in 1657.

Hortense Mancini, Duchess of Mazarin. This woman’s life is one made for one rollicking historical fiction novel. She was born 1646 as Ortensia in Rome to Baron Lorenzo Mancini, an Italian aristocrat. After the baron died, Hortense’s mother took her children to Paris where her brother, Cardinal Mazarin, lived in wealth and power.

Hortense was thirteen when she met Charles in exile. He proposed to her, but Hortense’s uncle, Cardinal Mazarin, refused the suit believing Charles had no prospects. At fifteen, Hortense was married to one of the wealthiest men in Europe, but it she was young and wild. She found the marriage too constricting. At sixteen, Hortense launched into a lesbian affair with Sidonie de Courcelles.

The marriage failed, and Hortense over the years became a courtesan to wealthy nobility. By the late 1670’s she found herself in England and replaced Louise as Charles’s mistress. Due to her promiscuity and open bisexuality (she had affairs other than with the king, which irritated him), it didn’t take long to lose favor with Charles II. Once she was cast adrift, Charles went back to Barbara Palmer. Although never again intimate, the king and Hortense remained friends.

Other mistresses less known and some alleged:

Winifred Wells - one of the Queen's Maids of Honour

Jane Roberts – daughter of a clergyman

Mary Sackville – the possible illegitimate daughter of Charles Sackville, 6th Earl of Dorset and 1st Earl of Middlesex

Elizabeth Fitzgerald - the second wife of the 18th earl of Kildare

Elizabeth Berkeley - née Bagot, Dowager Countess of Falmouth, and widow of Charles Berkeley, 1^st Earl of Falmouth

Mrs Knight - a famous singer

Christabella Wyndham - the royal nurse who had once been Charles’s wet nurse.

Giveaway: Books by Elizabeth Chadwick

2012-02-05T09:49:00.000-08:00

Elizabeth is giving away two copies of the winner's choice of Lady of the English or To Defy A King. Read about the books HERE, and then you will be prompted to return here to enter by commenting.

Please be sure to leave contact information.

The Death of Henry VIII: Demolishing the Myths

2012-02-04T23:40:00.000-08:00

By Nancy Bilyeau

No one would have called Sir Anthony Denny a brave man, but on the evening of January 27, 1547, the Gentleman of the Privy Chamber performed a duty the most resolute would recoil from: He informed Henry VIII that “in man’s judgment you are not like to live.”

The 55-year-old king, lying in his vast bed in Westminster Palace, replied he believed “the mercy of Christ is able to pardon me all my sins, yes, though they were greater than they be.” When asked if he wanted to speak to any “learned man,” King Henry asked for Archbishop of Canterbury Thomas Cranmer “but I will first take a little sleep. And then, as I feel myself, I will advise on the matter.”

Cranmer was sent for but it took hours for the archbishop to make his way on frozen roads. Shortly after midnight, Henry VIII was barely conscious, unable to speak. The faithful Cranmer always insisted that when he asked for a sign that his monarch trusted in the mercy of Christ, Henry Tudor squeezed his hand.

At about 2 a.m. Henry VIII died, “probably from renal and liver failure, coupled with the effects of his obesity,” says Robert Hutchinson in his 2005 book The Last Days of Henry VIII: Conspiracies, Treason and Heresy at the Court of the Dying Tyrant.

It was a subdued end to a riotous life. The sources for what happened that night are respected, though they are secondary, coming long after the event: Gilbert Burnet’s History of the Reformation of the Church of England (1679) and John Foxe’s Acts and Monuments (1874).

Yet there are other stories told of the death and funeral of Henry VIII. He was perhaps the most famous king in English history, and so it is no surprise that in books and on the Internet, some strange or maudlin words and ghoulish acts have attached themselves to his demise.

It is time to address them, one by one.

Myth: “Monks, monks, monks”

Henry VIII broke from Rome and made himself the head of the Church of England, dissolving the monasteries. The monks and friars and nuns faithful to the Pope lost their homes and were turned out on the road. Those who defied the king and denied the royal supremacy, such as the Carthusian martyrs, were tortured and killed.

Did the king regret it at the end? “He expired soon after allegedly uttering his last words: ‘Monks! Monks! Monks!’" says the Wikipedia entry for Henry VIII. It’s a story that has popped up in books too. The major source for it seems to be Agnes Strickland, a 19^th century poet turned historian who penned the eight-volume Lives of the Queens of England from the Norman Conquest, and Lives of the Queens of Scotland, and English Princesses. Strickland writes: The king “was afflicted with visionary horrors at the hour of his departure; for that he glanced with rolling eyes and looks of wild import towards the darker recesses of his chamber, muttering, ‘Monks—monks!’ ”

More on Strickland later. But when it comes to visions of cowled avengers glowering in the corner, it seems certain that this is an embellishment, an attempt at poetic justice. But not something that happened. Most likely at the final hour Henry regretted nothing.

Myth: “Cried out for Jane Seymour”

Another story is that while dying Henry VIII cried out for his third wife, the long dead Jane Seymour. It supports the idea that Jane, the pale lady-in-waiting who rapidly replaced Anne Boleyn, was the love of Henry’s life. He did, after all, request to be buried next to her. And whenever a family portrait was commissioned after 1537, Jane was shown sitting beside him, rather than one of the wives he was actually married to. But Henry VIII does not quite deserve his reputation for being impossible to please when it comes to women. He actually had a low bar for marital success: birth of a baby boy. Jane produced the son who became Edward VI—doing so killed her—and thus moved to the top of the pecking order.

Whether he actually loved Jane more than the five other spouses (not to mention those alluring mistresses) is best left to screenwriters. But one thing seems certain: Henry VIII did not cry for his third wife while expiring. There is no historical source for it.

Myth: “And the dogs will lick his blood”

The most macabre story of all supposedly happened weeks after the king died but before he was lowered into the crypt next to Jane Seymour in St. George’s Chapel. The king’s corpse was transported in a lead coffin from Westminster to Windsor; the procession of thousands lasted two days. There was a large funeral effigy on top of the coffin, complete with crown at one end and crimson velvet shoes at the other, that, one chronicler said fearfully, was so realistic “he seemed just as if he were alive.”

At the halfway mark, the coffin was housed in Syon Abbey, once one of England’s most prestigious religious houses. That is fact. But the rest is suspect. Because of an accident or just the undoubted heaviness of the monarch’s coffin—Henry VIII weighed well over 300 pounds at his death—there was supposedly a leak in the night, and either blood or “putrid matter” leaked onto the floor. When men arrived in the morning, a stray dog was seen licking under the coffin, goes the tale.

This hearkened to an unforgettable Easter Sunday sermon in 1532 before the king and his soon-to-be-second-wife, Anne Boleyn. Friar William Peto, provincial of the Observant Franciscans and a fiery supporter of first wife Katherine of Aragon, compared Henry VIII to King Ahab, husband of Jezebel. According to Scripture, after Ahab died, wild dogs licked his blood. Peto thundered that the same thing would happen to the English king.

Gilbert Burnet is the main source for the coffin-leaking story. A Scottish theologian and bishop of Salisbury, he is today considered reliable—except when he’s not. One historian, while praising Burnet’s book as an “epoch in our historical literature,” fretted that “a great deal of fault has been found—and, no doubt, justly—with the inaccuracy and general imperfection of the transcripts on which his work was largely founded and which gave rise to endless blunders.” One of Burnet’s most well known contributions to Tudor lore was that a disappointed Henry VIII described fourth wife Anne of Cleves as a “Flanders mare.” Author Antonia Fraser, in particular, writes sternly that Burnet had “no contemporary reference to back it up” in her book The Six Wives of Henry VIII.

What seems undeniable is that the foundation Burnet created, Agnes Strickland built on. Indeed, she raised a whole Gothic mansion in her own description of that night in Syon: “The King, being carried to Windsor to be buried, stood all night among the broken walls of Syon, and there the leaden coffin being cleft by the shaking of the carriage, the pavement of the church was wetted with Henry’s blood. In the morning came plumbers to solder the coffin, under whose feet—‘I tremble while I write it,’ says the author—‘was suddenly seen a dog creeping, and licking up the king’s blood. If you ask me how I know this, I answer, William Greville, who could scarcely drive away the dog, told me and so did the plumber also.’

“It appears certain that the sleepy mourners and choristers had retired to rest, after the midnight dirges were sung, leaving the dead king to defend himself, as best as he might, from the assaults of his ghostly enemies, and some people might think they made their approaches in a currish form. It is scarcely, however, to be wondered that a circumstance so frightful should have excited feelings of superstitious horror, especially at such a time and place; for this desecrated convent had been the prison of his unhappy queen, Katherine Howard, whose tragic fate was fresh in the minds of men; and by a singular coincidence it happened that Henry’s corpse rested there the very day after the fifth anniversary of her execution.”

Putting aside Strickland’s Bram Stoker-esque prose, there’s the question of whether such a ghastly thing could even occur. Sixteen-century embalmment did not call for completely draining a corpse of blood, it is true. And medical experts say it is possible that fluids circulate 17 days after death.

But Strickland’s fervent connections to not only Friar Peto’s sermon but also Syon’s monastery past—echoing the “Monks, monks, monks” poetic justice—and the (near) anniversary of Katherine Howard’s death make it seem likely that this was a case of too good a story to resist.

No one disturbed the coffin of the indomitable King Henry VIII—not even ghosts in “currish form.”

Nancy Bilyeau’s Tudor-era historical thriller The Crown is currently on sale in North America, the United Kingdom and Australia.

De Chemant and His Porcelain Teeth

2012-02-03T21:04:00.000-08:00

by Wanda Luce

brought to you from the BDA (British Dental Association) and posted by Wanda Luce, Regency author

Toward the end of the 18th century, people were becoming dissatisfied with ivory dentures, and experiments began with porcelain and the production of "incorruptible" dentures. The whole of the denture, teeth and gums, were made of china. In their favour they were more hygienic, however they were brittle, the colours weren’t very realistic and generally they did not fit well. They were the subject of a good deal of hilarity at the time. People made much fun of them as depicted in this picture by Thomas Rowlandson. It shows the French dentist, Nicholas Dubois de Chemant, demonstrating his porcelain dentures on a buxom lady to a potential client who inspects them through his double lorgnette.

Nicholas Dubois de Chemant (1753-1824) was an important dentist in Paris before the revolution of 1789. He perfected the manufacture of his mineral paste, or porcelain dentures, which he claimed were an improvement on the more usual ivory teeth as they did not decay in the mouth. Alexis Duchateau (1714-1792) invented the process in 1744, but De Chemant was able to overcome the problem of shrinkage during firing. King Louis XVI granted him an inventor’s patent. However, in 1792 he fled to England to escape the French Revolution.

On arrival in England he, was granted a 14-year patent for the exclusive manufacture of his invention and established himself in 2 Firth Street, near Soho Square, London. The Wedgwood Company supplied him with the porcelain paste the process needed and by 1804, he claimed to have made 12,000 false teeth. It was at the height of his fame that Rowlandson completed this etching in 1811.

In earlier years, dentures were either authentic teeth from another person or replicas made of ivory. These decayed easily. Below are some pictures of false teeth from before the 20th century. This set here belonged to Arthur Richard Dillon (1721-1806), Archbishop of Narbonne in France.

Some bought into the idea of tooth tranplantation. Often the poor allowed their healthy teeth to be extracted for a few coins, so they could be transplanted into the mouths of the toothless rich. Often children were subjected to this kind of abuse as is depicted in this caricature.

How dreadful it must have been to lose one's teeth. Below are a few pictures of old dentures that will make you cringe. I am so grateful to live in the 21st century!!! (So far I have all of my own teeth, but...someday I might not be so fortunate.)

Check out the partials to the left.

Below is an awkward looking pair.

Thank you for reading.

Wanda Luce, Regency romance author

http://www.wandaluce.blogspot.com/

Lady Jane Grey: Royal Tragedy - Royal Pawn Part I

2012-02-03T00:14:00.000-08:00

by Teresa Bohannon

Lady Jane Grey was a young lass of fifteen who had the honor of being the Queen of England for a period of nine days, and was beheaded for it.

Jane was a cousin to young King Edward VI, crowned successor to Henry VIII, at the tender age of nine years. Within a very few years of his crowning,it became obvious that young Edward would soon pass from this earth due to a infirmity. Edward reigned at a time of political unrest as Henry the VIII's newly established Protestant religion sought to wrest all power and prominence from the followers of the Roman Catholic religion.

In seeking a successor for young Edward, the Protestants sought to ensure that the throne did not pass to his elder sister, Mary, a staunch Romanc Catholic, who would, it was feared, restore ascendency to the Roman Catholic church--not to mention, perhaps even going so far as to persecute and excecute the Protestants. A more acceptable heir--at least to the Protestants--was to be found in Mary's younger sister Elizabeth, a girl of only twenty, who just happened to be a Protestant. Unfortunately, setting aside an older sister for a younger one would have been impossible, and so the Protestant nobles settled on young Jane Grey, thereby setting the stage for a tragedy.

Jane was the eldest daughter of the Duke of Suffolk, and as such was a titled lady in her own right. Through her mother, she was also a cousin to young Edward and his sisters, and had Mary and Elizabeth not existed, Jane would have been next in line for young Edward's throne. It had been initially proposed that Jane and Edward be married, but this scheme was dropped due to Edward's ill health and imminent death. Again, unfortunately for Jane, young Edward was still able to be manipulated by his guardian, the Duke of Northumberland. He persuaded Edward that Lady Jane must reign after him, for if she did not England would suffer; and Edward, who loved the Protestant religion, consented. He made a will stating that Lady Jane was to be Queen instead of his sisters Mary and Elizabeth. Of course, he had no right to do this, for a king cannot say who is to reign after him; the throne must go to the next heir. But Northumberland thought if he and all the Protestant nobles declared Lady Jane Queen, they could force the people of England to acknowledge her. To ensure that he retained power, Northumberland further persuaded Edward to consent to the marriage of Lady Jane to Northumberland's only son, young Lord Guildford Dudley.

According to legend, Lady Jane had lived very quietly up to this time; she was a gentle little girl who loved her books, and never thought of thrones and kings and queens. When she was quite young she could speak French and Italian, wrote Latin, and understood Greek, Hebrew, Chaldee, and Arabic. This was all the more wonderful because in those days ladies were not supposed to know very much; if they could do beautiful tapestry work and ride and sing a little, it was considered quite enough. When asked one time, why she read instead of joining her sisters at play, Jane is said to have replied that she loved books, and they gave her much more pleasure than the things in which people usually tried to find pleasure. When further asked, how she had managed to learn so much, she answered:

'Sir, God hath blessed me with sharp and severe parents and a gentle schoolmaster; for when I am in the presence of either father or mother, whether I speak, keep silence, sit, stand, or go, eat, drink, be merry or sad, be sewing, dancing, or doing anything else, I must do it, as it were, in such weight, measure, and number, even as perfectly as the world was made, or else I am so sharply taunted and cruelly threatened—yea, presently sometimes with pinches, nips, and bobs, and so cruelly disordered, that I think myself in hell until the time come that I go to Mr. Aylmer, who teacheth me so gently, so pleasantly, with such fair allurements to learning, that I think all the time as nothing that I am with him; and thus my book hath been so much my pleasure, and bringeth daily to me more pleasure and more, that in respect of it all other pleasures in very deed be but trifles and very troubles to me.'

Lady Jane knew that her cousin Edward was ill, and it must have grieved her very much; for she was fond of him, and being just the same age, they had learnt the same lessons together.She was however, probably quite surprised to be suddenly told that she must hurriedly marry the son of his guardian, young Guildford Dudley. When Edward died, shortly thereafter, Jane was not told of it until she received a message from her father-in-law, the Duke of Northumberland, ordering her to go to his great house, not far from London. Jane obeyed, most probably, never once guessing the truth of what was going to happen or why she was wanted. Thus, she was probably quite surprised to arrive and have Northumberland, her own father, and a group of Protestant lords kneeling before her, as they informed her her that her young cousin Edward was dead, and that she must succeed him as Queen of England. Legend tells us that poor Lady Jane was so shocked and startled that she fainted away. When she came round again they told her she must be obedient and do as they told her. She is said to have pleaded with them,claiming that Mary must be Queen, and that for herself she was so young—only sixteen; and she did not care to be Queen, but only wanted to live a quiet life with her husband, Lord Dudley. But they argued with her, and told her she was a coward; that it was for the good of England, and that if she refused she would be wicked; and so she consented.

From that moment forward, her life was changed. A beautiful barge was waiting for Lady Jane in front of Sion House, and she stepped into it, and was rowed down the river through London to the Tower. When Lady Jane entered the Tower the man who was then Lord Treasurer of England came to her, and, kneeling down, offered her the crown of England. Afterwards, Northumberland and his party lost no time in sending men all about London to cry out that Lady Jane Grey was now Queen of England.

Nine days later, young Jane was dethroned, and within a few months, both she and her handsome young husband were beheaded.

I'll share the story of Jane's imprisonment and execution on March 2, 2012.

Teresa Thomas Bohannon,
MyLadyWeb, Women's History, Women Authors
Regency Romance A Very Merry Chase
Historical Fantasy Shadows In A Timeless Myth.

LOVE IS BLIND ~ BRIDELOPE ~ The earliest word for a marriage custom

2012-02-01T22:52:00.000-08:00

by Maggi Andersen

BRIDELOPE dates back to A.D. 950 when it was called brydlopa. Part of this custom, called the ‘run for the bride-door,’ was an ancient tradition in which the bride was both symbolically and physically swept off on horseback to her husband’s home by him and sometimes a helper who was later known as the ‘best man’.

The Anglo-Saxon root word wedd (‘to gamble, wager’) first referred to livestock or other payment by the groom to the bride’s father, as a more civilized alternative to abduction.

In the 17th Century, before it became associated with romantic images, elopement was a legal term for the act of a woman who leaves her husband and ‘dwells with the adulterer, by which she shall lose her dower’. (Thomas Blount Glossographia 1656.)

As a symbol of resistance, the well-prepared Saxon bride’s wedding attire often included knives, which she ‘gracefully hung from her girdle’.

John Heywood listed other bridal equipment in his 1545 work The Four Ps:

Silke swathbonds, ribbands, and sleeve-laces,

Girdles, knives, purses and pin-cases,

Fortune dothe give these knives to you,

To cut the thred of love if’t be not true.

Bridesmaids were originally a maid’s closest friends who might attempt to defend her from an unwanted groom and make sure she didn’t panic and run off, especially in arranged marriages. In a custom known as ‘charming the path,’ the bride was hidden or disguised when the groom’s party came for her.

‘This was a common practice at old-fashioned weddings in Wales, among other places. The bride is generally expected to make a great show of resistance to her departure, and to lament loudly.’

(Burne, Charlotte S. The Handbook of Folklore. London 1883)

As late as the 18^th Century, a custom that often accompanied weddings in Wales was a race by the male members of the wedding party to the couple’s future residence, with food or a silk scarf (originally the bride’s garter, a potent love charm) typically awarded to the winner.

At Scottish country weddings, a related custom, to ‘ride the brose,’ with the first to arrive receiving a ‘cog of brose,’ or ‘good fat broth made for the occasion.’ (John Jamieson. An Etymological Dictionary of the Scottish Language 1808)

‘The boast of the winner was how far on with the brose he was before the rest of the company arrived.’

My historical romance The Reluctant Marquess is a marriage of convenience story, set during the Georgian era. It is released on 8^th March by Knox Robinson Publishing. You can order the paperback now from Amazon. http://www.amazon.com/Reluctant-Marquess-Maggi-Andersen/dp/1908483091/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1328069811&sr=8-1

Author website: http://www.maggiandersenauthor.com

Author Blog: http://www.maggiandersen.blogspot.com

Source: Forgotten English Jeffrey Kacirk, Quill William Morrow NY.S

Further reading:

Thomas Blount recognized that many of the new words entering the English language were those spoken in the street. He saw that tradesmen and merchants were collecting words as well as wares on their journeys overseas. And therefore many of these new words, such as coffee, chocolate, drapery, boot, omelette or balcony, were those used in shops or other public places - drinking houses, tailors, shoemakers or barbers.

Charlotte Burne (1850–1923) served the Folklore Society (FLS) for forty years. She was editor of the massive Shropshire Folklore (1883–6), and the second revised edition of the FLS's only official guide, The Handbook of Folklore (1914). She authored over seventy folklore papers, notes and reviews in Folklore and its predecessors, as well as several articles in newspapers and magazines; she was the first woman editor of this journal (1900–08) and the first woman President of the FLS (1909–10). This appreciation is the first part of a two-part study of her life and works. The second part will be a provisional bibliography of her published works.

John Jamieson FRSE (3 May 1759 – 12 July 1838) was a Scottish minister of religion, lexicographer, philologist and antiquary.

Strange Victorian Remedies

2012-01-31T23:28:00.000-08:00

by Lynne Wilson

As 19th century Britain’s economy grew, the use of advertising to sell products greatly expanded. Due to the expense involved in a visit to the doctor, one such area in which advertising became popular was with remedies and cures for everyday ailments which people could purchase relatively cheaply and administer themselves. With very few restrictions on the claims that could be made, many seemingly miraculous cures appeared for sale. Although some of these remedies had some scientific basis, others were, unfortunately for the unwitting buyer, completely useless. On researching my book ‘A Year in Victorian Edinburgh’ I came across some weird and wonderful examples of both useful and useless remedies, in the form of newspaper advertisements from 1869. Here are a few of these examples:

Sulphur was thought to cure many ailments, including Cholera, of which there had been several outbreaks previously. Sulphur could be taken in the form above or alternatively, another popular method in the 19th century was to ‘Take the waters’, in the form of visiting spas or drinking mineral waters containing iron, copper or sulphur to cure common ailments such as rheumatism, arthritis, overindulgence and respiratory disorders such as asthma.

With all forms of bathing being popular in the Victorian era, many establishments such as the one below opened. ‘Galvanic baths’, which were though to have health giving properties, were baths in which an electric current was passed through the water and hence, through the body. Turkish baths worked on the principle of sweating out all impurities and then washing them away.

The use of electricity in treatments was often popular, and another means by which it was utilised was in applying currents to nerve points via a battery and cables, such as the treatment advertised below. It was believed that “life-giving force” of electricity could relieve lung diseases, inflammation of the brain or liver, rheumatism, small pox, and even cure drunkenness! Victorian innovators would claim that these illnesses could be cured simply by wearing these electric belts or sitting in a magnetically charged room.

By far the most common type of advertisement however, seems to be aimed at people’s insecurity or vanity regarding either loss of hair or greying hair colour. In the Edinburgh Evening Courant newspaper in 1869, an advertisement appeared for ‘Luxuriant and Beautiful Hair’ – ‘Miss S. S. Allen’s World’s Hair Restorer or Dressing never fails to quickly restore grey or faded hair to its youthful colour and beauty. It stops the hair from falling off. It prevents baldness. It promotes luxuriant growth. It causes the hair to grow thick and strong. It removes all dandruff.’ Many other advertisements promised equally astounding results.

Although on the face of it, these seem like fairly harmless, albeit utterly ineffective remedies, the reality was that some of these products had ingredients which were toxic to varying degrees, as an article in The Edinburgh Evening Courant newspaper shows: ‘Poisonous Lotions for the Hair’ – ‘Nothing is more extraordinary than the irrational credulity of even educated, intelligent persons, in accepting a tradesman’s puff as a genuine warranty. When, for instance, will people be warned against the use of poisonous hair dyes? It can be no secret that white lead is the chief ingredient in the black dyes now so largely sold. Paralysis, in a more or less severe form, is the inevitable consequence of applying these lotions to the hair.’

Thankfully, by the end of the Victorian era, things were began to improve, with restrictions on the sale of poisons and more analysis being carried out by reputable retailers such as ‘Boots the Chemist’, to determine the safety of products for sale. However, it wasn’t until the start of the 20th century that greater scrutiny of these products came into existence and manufacturers began to be prosecuted for fraudulent claims.

All Images Courtesy of The Scotsman Archives

By Lynne Wilson, author of the historical non fiction ebooks 'A Year in
Victorian Edinburgh' and 'Crime & Punishment in Victorian Edinburgh'; and the paperback, 'Murder & Crime in Stirling'.

Read more about Lynne Wilson HERE.

Lynne is also the creator and editor of Scotland History Uncovered

Madness in their Method: Water therapy in Georgian and Regency times

2012-01-31T00:02:00.000-08:00

by LUCINDA BRANT

Using water to treat illness, known today as Hydrotherapy, is a practice dating back to Ancient Egypt. Greek and Roman historians also mention the use of water in the treatment of muscle fatigue, hydrophobia and fever. Using water therapy as a psychiatric tool is attributed to Jean Baptiste Van Helmont’s massive medical tome the Ortus Medicinae published in 1643 and translated into English by John Chandler in 1662. [1]

Van Helmont advocated water immersion therapy in the treatment of mental illness. The patient was fully immersed in cold water until the point of unconsciousness, and thus at the point at which the patient could drown, because he believed near death immersion in cold water could “kill the mad idea” which caused mental derangement. [3]

Naturally, this was a very dangerous technique and never became widespread. However, Van Helmont’s staunch belief in using water as a treatment for mental illness was taken up by various medical institutions and practitioners across Europe so that by the 18th Century the “water-cure” in its various forms became one of a number of standard treatments used by physicians and insane asylums when dealing with all manner of psychiatric conditions.

The two main types of water cure were the douche or cold shower and the balneum or bath. The douche required cold water be poured over the patient’s head or sprayed at the patient’s body to cool the heat of madness if insane, or rouse the depressed if suffering from melancholia. The bath was used to calm overwrought nerves and to encourage sleep. In the early years of this type of therapy, most cures were performed out of doors near a source of water—the sea or a pond. This allowed for public viewing. However, as asylums, both public and private, became more widespread in the 18th Century, water cures were moved indoors. Inside and away from the public eye and an immediate source of water, so institutions and their practitioners developed inventive ways and a wide variety of apparatuses to deliver water therapy to the mad and melancholic. [1]

There were cold shower rooms, bath boxes that shut patients in, shower contraptions that delivered water at intervals via a system of pulleys and levers, dunking devices that immersed patients at regular intervals into small ponds as the device rotated and turned on a giant cogs, and there was the simple ladder and bucket method that involved the patient sitting in a wooden barrel while behind a screen attendants ran up and down ladders with buckets of water that they poured onto the patient’s head from a great height. And then there was “the chair”:

"I have contrived a chair and introduced it to our [Pennsylvania] Hospital to assist in curing madness. It binds and confines every part of the body. By keeping the trunk erect, it lessens the impetus of blood toward the brain. By preventing the muscles from acting, it reduces the force and frequency of the pulse, and by the position of the head and feet favors the easy application of cold water or ice to the former and warm water to the latter. Its effects have been truly delightful to me. It acts as a sedative to the tongue and temper as well as to the blood vessels. In 24, 12, six, and in some cases in four hours, the most refractory patients have been composed. I have called it a Tranquillizer"
(Rush to James Rush, The Letters of Benjamin Rush, Princeton University Press, 1951) [1,3]

By the mid 18th Century water therapy had become a standard treatment in the “mad doctor”’ medical bag. Yet, in this Age of Enlightenment, when many people came to view the shackling of the mad as inhumane, there were those physicians who advocated the use of water therapy not only as a cure but as a more humane means of coercion, thus doing away with the need for physical restraints. Thus water therapy was not only used on the mad and those suffering from depression, it was used by some physicians in the good-natured belief that it would persuade patients who had veered from the path of what society viewed as “normal” behavior to “get back on track”. [2, 3]

Thus water therapy was used by some physicians as a means of treating married women who had become “mildly distracted” and had opted out of their marital responsibilities (i.e. didn’t want to have sex with their husband). One such practitioner who used the method to sadistic effect was Patrick Blair, a physician who is the model for Sir Titus Foley in my novel AUTUMN DUCHESS, a dandified and well-respected physician whose medical forte is treating females for melancholia. When Antonia Dowager Duchess of Roxton is seen to be excessively melancholy and is still wearing mourning three years after the death of the Duke, her loving son is at his wits end and he instructs Sir Titus to treat his mother, little realizing that part of his treatment is the use of water therapy.

Patrick Blair had his female patients blindfolded, stripped and strapped to a bathing chair. The woman was then subjected to 30 minutes of water being sprayed directly into her face. When the woman refused to agree to return to the marital bed, Blair went one step further and repeated the treatment for 60 minutes, then 90 minutes and when she promised obedience Blair allowed her to sleep. Yet, the next day, sensing the woman was “sullen” and probably had only agreed because of the treatment, he again had her strapped to the chair and subjected to the treatment at intervals over the next two days. Finally, exhausted after such physical and mental torture, the woman succumbed and agreed to become a “loving and obedient and dutiful wife forever thereafter”. To make certain she did, Blair visited her at her home a month later and was happy to report “everything was in good order”. [4]

Thankfully Blair’s sadistic treatment of his female patients was not the norm. Yet, most physicians, indeed most people in the 18th and early 19th Centuries viewed water therapy in its various forms as an acceptable means of coercing, treating, and hopefully curing patients with various mental, melancholic and recalcitrant afflictions.

SOURCES

Annual Report to the Friends (July 2005 – June 2006) The Institute for the History of Psychiatry, Cornell University, New York.
Porter, Roy. Blood and Guts, A Short History of Medicine, Allen Lane, London 2002.
Scull, Andrew. Social Order/Mental Disorder; Anglo-American Psychiatry in Historical Perspective. Berkeley. University of California Press 1989.
Porter, Dorothy and Porter, Roy. Patient’s Progress: Doctors and Doctoring in Eighteenth-century England. Stanford University Press, Stanford California 1989.

Note: Water treatment images sourced and adapted from [1].

Giveaway Queen Defiant/Devil's Consort by Anne O'Brien

2012-01-30T06:00:00.000-08:00

This giveaway is now ended. Thank you so much to all fans of Eleanor of Aquitaine who put their names forward. It is good to see so many people who enjoy medieval history.
I decided to draw for two copies, one of UK Devil's Consort and the other the US Queen Defiant.
The two fortunate winners are Anne Goodwin (UK) and Sophia Rose (US).
Congratulations and Happy Reading.

Anne O'Brien is giving away a copy of Queen Defiant(US)/Devil's Consort(US). To see some information about the book, please click HERE.

WHO SAID THAT?

2012-01-30T02:08:00.000-08:00

In many instances, William Shakespeare!

We all know famous lines from Shakespeare's works, the following are just a few:

TO BE OR NOT TO BE

FRIENDS, ROMANS, COUNTRYMEN, LEND ME YOUR EARS

A ROSE BY ANY OTHER NAME WOULD SMELL AS SWEET

DOUBLE DOUBLE TOIL AND TROUBLE, FIRE BURN, AND CAULDRON BUBBLE

O ROMEO, ROMEO, WHEREFORE ART THOU, ROMEO.

But what you may not know is many of the aphorisms used today were also started by Shakespeare. It is well-known he didn't coin all the sayings, but he was the first to write many of them down. Other writers before him used some of the expressions in their works.

COME WHAT COME MAY was first used in 1375 in John Barbour's, The Bruce. Shakespeare used the term in MacBeth.

MACBETH: Come what come may,
Time and the hour runs through the roughest day.

EATEN OUT OF HOUSE AND HOME is noted in Henry IV.

MISTRESS QUICKLY: It is more than for some, my lord; it is for all, all I have.
He hath eaten me out of house and home; he hath put all my substance into that fat belly of his...

WHERE MY HEART UPON MY SLEEVE may derive from the middle ages jousting matches were knights are said to have worn colors of the lady they were supporting, in a cloth or ribbon tied on their arms, but the term was first recorded in Shakespeare's Othello.

IAGO: ...But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve

For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.

SEND HIM PACKING can be found in Shakespeare's Henry IV.

FALSTAFF: Faith, and I'll send him packing.

NIGHT OWL first became a reference to people in the sixteenth century. Shakespeare used it in Richard II:

"For nightowles shreeke, where mounting larkes should sing."

and in Twelfth Night:

"Shall wee rowze the night-Owle in a Catch?"

LOVE IS BLIND was a favorite line of Shakespeare's. It appears in several of his plays. The following is from The Merchant Of Venice.

JESSICA:...But love is blind and lovers cannot see

The pretty follies that themselves commit;

For if they could, Cupid himself would blush

To see me thus transformed to a boy.

IN STITCHES was first used by Shakespeare in Twelfth Night. Despite Shakespeare using the phrase, it didn't become popular until the twentieth century.

MARIA: If you desire the spleen, and will laugh yourself into stitches, follow me.

GIVE THE DEVIL HIS DUE is from Shakespeare's Henry IV.

CONSTABLE; I will cap that proverb with 'There is flattery in friendship.'

ORLEANS: And I will take up that with 'Give the devil his due.'

GREEN-EYED MONSTER is a phrase used in Othello.

IAGO: O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;

It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock...

Here are more aphorisms, some I can believe were used by Shakespeare, others just astound me that we're using them still today.

A FOOL'S PARADISE

A FOREGONE CONCLUSION

ALL CORNERS OF THE WORLD

ALL THAT GLITTERS IS NOT GOLD

ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE, AND ALL THE MEN AND WOMEN MERELY PLAYERS

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL

AS DEAD AS A DOORNAIL

AS PURE AS THE DRIVEN SNOW

AT ONE FELL SWOOP

BEWARED THE IDES OF MARCH

EXCEEDINGLY WELL READ

FAIR PLAY

FANCY FREE

FIGHT FIRE WITH FIRE

FOREVER AND A DAY

FOUL PLAY

GOOD RIDDANCE

HEART'S CONTENT

HIGH TIME

HIS BEARD WAS AS WHITE AS SNOW (Isn't this Santa Claus?)

I HAVE NOT SLEPT ONE WINK

IF MUSIC BE THE FOOD OF LOVE, PLAY ON

IN A PICKLE (seriously??? Shakespeare?)

IN THE TWINKLING OF AN EYE

LIKE THE DICKENS (And this is no reference to Charles Dickens!)

SCREW YOUR COURAGE TO THE STICKING POST (I've never heard of this one, but I love it.)

SET YOUR TEETH ON EDGE

SOMETHING IS ROTTEN IN THE STATE OF DENMARK

STAR CROSSED LOVERS

SUCH STUFF AS DREAMS ARE MADE OF

THE DEVIL INCARNATE

THE GAME IS UP

THE QUEEN'S ENGLISH

THERE'S METHOD IN MY MADNESS (Oh, we writers know this one.)

THIS IS THE SHORT AND LONG OF IT

TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING

UP IN ARMS

VANISH INTO THIN AIR (Wow, really?)

WE HAVE SEEN BETTER DAYS

WILD GOOSE CHASE

by Tess St. John

As a writer, I think it would be the ultimate compliment for people to be using phrases and words I wrote five hundred years from now!

I hope some of you learned something new. Please check out these websites for information (I got my information for this blog at these sites) on Shakespeare and his writing, plus more sayings still used today--and their meanings.

http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/phrases-sayings-shakespeare.html
http://www.enotes.com/shakespeare-quotes
http://www.william-shakespeare.info/william-shakespeare-quotes.htm
http://www.absoluteshakespeare.com/trivia/quotes/quotes.htm
http://www.allgreatquotes.com/shakespeare_quotes.shtml

For more about Tess St. John and her books, please visit her website at http://tessstjohn.com .

Regarding English Aid to La Rochelle. Benjamin Rohan, Duc de Soubise (1583-1642)

2012-01-28T22:24:00.000-08:00

by Shawn Lamb

Benjamin is the younger brother of Henri de Rohan, and inherited his title from his mother Catherine of Parthenay. The Rohan brothers divided France between them in forms of leadership. Naturally, as duke, Henri was considered the supreme commander of the Huguenots, but in many ways, Benjamin was more the zealot Reformer. In fact, he was considered a hothead by Marie de Medicis and involved in a number of hostile confrontations at Court. Being cousin to King Henry IV saved his life on several occasions.

Benjamin proved his military and naval leadership in 1621, when he defeated the royal fleet at the River Blavet. Before this, many looked upon his exploits as those of a brigand. Henri didn’t contain his brother’s activities since he need Benjamin’s leadership and help to institute reforms. At first Benjamin was at La Rochelle while Henri raised arms in the south. However, Benjamin’s lack of patience with the stubborn populous at La Rochelle to submit to his authority, prompted him to leave for England to solicit aid. More rightly, he was itching for a fight. This act was the final straw for the French Court in tolerating his rebellious behavior and he was declared lèse-majesté, guilty of treason.

In England, Benjamin’s exploits preceded him and he was warmly welcomed and given asylum by his kinsman, King Charles I. The Rohans were related to almost every royal family in Europe, which is why Richelieu treaded lightly in dealing with the family, they could call upon England, Spain and Austria for military assistance. To Benjamin’s pleasure, Charles was already predisposed to providing the aid he sought for La Rochelle; it was Buckingham who remained skeptical.

The duke’s longstanding personal feud with Louis and Richelieu were having a profound effect upon the royal family of England. Shortly before Benjamin’s arrival, Buckingham convinced Charles to dismiss all of Queen Henrietta’s French servants. His argument was valid - she was now Queen of England, she should speak English, employ English servants and engage the people of England. The Queen’s refusal led to swift action and her French servants were whisked away so fast she never got to say good-bye.

Louis sent Marshal Bassompierre to England to complain of the insult to his sister. Buckingham offered to go to France and soothe over the situation, but Richelieu refused to allow him to set foot in France. At this latest insult to the English Prime Minister from a mere cardinal, Buckingham was more willing to listen to Benjamin.

On July 17th, 1627, Buckingham set sail with a fleet to La Rochelle. Benjamin was aboard the duke’s ship and key in providing military intelligence concerning La Rochelle and islands of Re or Oleron. But this aid would be too little and too late.

In a surprising turn, the novice French fleet, commanded by Admiral Montmorency, would defeat the famed English navy. It wasn’t the defeat that crushed Benjamin’s spirit, but the ultimate surrender of La Rochelle, which resulted in the capture of his mother and sister. Henri would suffer exile and Benjamin swore never to set foot in France again. Even the Edict of Grace was not sufficient to persuade him to return. To the day of his death in London, Benjamin believed the failure of the English fleet to liberate La Rochelle was due to the commanders’ stubbornness not to listen to his advice.

See Shawn's article on Benjamin's brother, Henri de Rohan HERE.

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Shawn began her writing career in television, writing for Filmation Studio’s series BraveStarr. She won several screenwriting awards including a Certificate of Merit from the American Association of Screenwriters. Recently she became a winner in The Authors Show contest 50 Great Writers You Should Be Reading for 2011. Shawn lives in Nashville with her husband Rob and their daughter, Briana.

An All-Consuming Passion

2012-01-28T00:01:00.000-08:00

by Anne O'Brien

An All-Consuming Passion
The love affair that changed the course of English History

Owen Tudor and Katharine de Valois

He was a servant. She was the dowager-queen of England. He was a dispossessed Welshman. She had royal Valois blood in her veins and was the widow of England’s glorious hero of Agincourt, King Henry V. She was the King’s Mother, he was the Keeper of the Queen’s Wardrobe.
Such a liaison would be unthinkable, and yet they fell victim to a passionate romance.

A Windsor Romance

It all happened at Windsor since Katharine was bound by law to live in her son’s household after her politically disastrous near-marriage to Edmund Beaufort. She was considered to be a woman ‘unable fully to curb her carnal passions’ and so she must live a carefully controlled life. So how did Katharine and Owen manage to fall in love? The record of the occasion of the romance has been described as ‘a pot pourri of myth, romanticism, tradition and anti-Tudor propaganda.’ It is certainly a gift to writers of historical fiction - although it brings its own problems.

A mixed bag of historical tradition ...

One strong tradition, written in a poem in 1361 at the time of Owen’s death, was that he first caught Katharine’s attention when he over-balanced and fell into her lap at a Court ball. Too much alcohol? Or clumsy dancing? Impossible to tell.

A mid 16th century chronicler tells a quite different story. Katharine saw Owen and his friends swimming in the river on a summer’s day. Perhaps in this very spot on the Thames near Windsor - with or without the swans.

Overcome by his sheer masculinity, Katharine changed garments with her maid and arranged to meet Owen in disguise. He was too ardent, she struggled and, escaping his embrace, received a wound to her cheek. Serving her at supper that night, Owen saw the bruise and realised who the ‘maidservant’ had been. Ashamed, he begged her forgiveness. Katharine forgave him readily, they professed their love and were duly married. Sadly, there is no historical proof for either version. But what vivid scenes these sources paint for us. The difficulty for a novelist is of course producing something half-way realistic. If Owen was Katharine’s personal servant, how could he not recognise her face, her voice, even in disguise? Unless she was mute and they met in a dark cupboard, it would seem impossible. As for the drunken mishap ... It makes writing a credible version highly entertaining.

A Private Marriage.

Whatever the truth of their meeting, their love was strong enough to encourage the unlikely pair to flout the law of the land. Katharine was forbidden to marry without the permission of the King who was not yet ten years old. Any man foolish enough to wed her without permission would find all his lands and possessions declared forfeit. Here Katharine was fortunate for Owen had no assets to lose. Penal statutes against the Welsh after Owen Glendywr’s Rising in the reign of Henry IV dispossessed many, as well as prohibiting them from carrying arms, meeting in gatherings, owning land east of the ancient border of Offa’s Dyke and holding government office. When Owen married Katharine he had nothing to forfeit.

The clandestine affair was no secret at Court: Katharine had no compunction in taking the law into her own hands and challenging the Council to do its worst. She would be wed and be damned to them! Perhaps this suggests that Katherine not the mindless beauty that she has sometimes been described as, but a woman of considerable audacity and courage. The marriage was conducted privately, and the happy couple left Windsor to live out the years of their marriage quietly in Katharine’s dower properties.

And the Tudors ...

The circumstances of the astonishing marriage between Owen and Katharine is my primary interest since I am writing a novel of Katharine de Valois, but for aficionados of the Tudors it is the descendants of this marriage who take all the attention. Their eldest son Edmund married Margaret Beaufort, the Beaufort heiress, who passed enough royal Plantagenet blood to their son to enable him to claim the crown of England as King Henry VII.

This is a bust of Henry VII based on his death mask, and can be seen in the V and A in London. We have no portrait of Owen Tudor. Did he look anything like his grandson? Would Katharine have fallen in love with this man?

Who knows ...?

Anne O’Brien:

Author of The Virgin Widow and Queen Defiant(US)/Devil’s Consort(UK)

The King’s Concubine, the story of Alice Perrers, will be released in May(UK)June(US) 2012

http://www.anneobrienbooks.com/