by Carol McGrath
(Editor's Choice from the Archives)
by Lauren Gilbert
by Anna Belfrage
Sunday, June 3, 2018
Friday, June 1, 2018
Giving it and taking it back - the complicated case of Whilton manor
by Anna Belfrage
In 1264, William de Whelton faced something of a conundrum. He wasn’t alone. England was at war, on the one side Simon de Montfort seemed to be carrying the day, on the other King Henry III and his son, the future Edward I, claimed hereditary right to rule. In between were all those men who were fast approaching a point at which they had to choose sides. Sitting on the fence was not an option, not when the rattling of swords and lances clearly proclaimed the conflict was about to turn bloody. Very bloody.
William lived in Northamptonshire. He was the proud owner of four manors which in this case made sitting things out even more of an impossibility. He was simply too important to be allowed to remain neutral. In William’s region, the flamboyant Earl of Leicester threw the longest shadow and to stand in opposition against de Montfort while surrounded by his allies would likely have resulted in a very short lifespan. Plus, it is probable William agreed with the Provisions of Oxford—even saw Simon as something of a refreshing counterbalance to the weak king, so dominated by his French half-siblings and his wife’s Savoyard kinsmen.
To choose wrongly came at a price. Whoever ended up on the losing side could say bye-bye to whatever manors they might have had. This may be the reason behind William’s decision regarding his manor at Whilton. Maybe he was hoping to safeguard something for the future by granting the manor to his second son. Or maybe it was as simple as William wanting Nicholas de Whelton to have his own land and by granting him the manor in his own lifetime he could bypass the laws of inheritance that would otherwise have seen all his belongings pass to his eldest son.
To ensure his second son had property was also a way to facilitate Nicholas’ search for a bride. At the time, Nicholas had found a bride and as Joyce la Zouche came from a powerful family I imagine her father would have insisted on Nicholas having something to his name so as to safeguard Joyce’s future dower income should Nicholas predecease her.
Whatever the case, in 1264 William undertook a number of actions whereby he transferred ownership of Whilton to Nicholas. In return, Nicholas granted William full rights of usage for the rest of William’s life, i.e. any incomes deriving from the manor would still end up in William’s purse. But formally the manor would belong to Nicholas. Well, it would do once Nicholas had taken seisin of it.
To take possession of land—delivery of seisin—was a rather formal affair. Not so that it required a lot of written documentation. No, delivery of seisin was all about actively doing a number of things. In view of future events, a written document would not have been a bad idea, but in 1264 William saw no reason to have his clerk put quill to parchment. After all, he knew exactly what the next steps were.
First of all, William had to visibly transfer ownership. This was done by a ritual whereby William led Nicholas up to the main entrance of the manor and placed his hand on the door hasp, thereby “giving” him the door and all the contents within. Then he presented Nicholas with a branch of a fruit tree to show that Nicholas now had the right to make use of everything that grew on the manor. Finally, once he’d done this, William waved “bye-bye” to his son (and Joyce, one presumes) and left Nicholas to formally take possession.
Taking possession in this case meant Nicholas remained at Whilton for two weeks or so, very much behaving like the lord of the manor. He burned wood, he took oaths of fealty from the tenants and did some fishing—all of this to show he was entitled to use the land as he saw fit.
Two weeks later, William returned and now it was Nicholas’ turn to grant the manor back to his father for life. After all this seisin stuff the manor was formally Nicholas’ and once William was dead the full use of the manor would revert to Nicholas, not to big brother Roger who, according to the laws of primogeniture that were applied to everything to do with land, otherwise would inherit. As an aside, it is interesting to note that William could never have written a will in which he left one of his manors to Nicholas as this would never have been recognised as a valid transfer of land, not when there was an older brother. But gifting land in your own lifetime was okay.
Anyway: to really seal the deal William then persuaded his eldest son Roger de Whelton to sign a quitclaim, a document in which he accepted his father’s gift to his younger brother. After all this, Nicholas was now safely in possession of Whilton—well, so one would think.
All William’s careful planning proved totally futile after August 1265. At the Battle of Evesham Simon de Montfort was killed and all those fighting for him were branded rebels, their lands forfeited. William and his sons had been fighting for Simon and so the de Whelton family suddenly found themselves without any manors at all. A most dire situation and had it not been for the fact that they were not exactly alone—many, many were the men of noble birth who were suddenly rendered destitute, thereby becoming a potentially dangerous and destabilising influence on society—this story would have ended there.
However, eager to bring peace and stability to his realm, King Henry approved the Dictum of Kenilworth. This allowed for the rebels to buy back their lands with a hefty fine. Yes, things would be tight for some years, but most who could leapt at the opportunity. So did those who did not have the money at the ready but hoped to somehow finance the repurchase of their hereditary lands. Among them was William. Not among them was Nicholas, who had sadly passed away, leaving a young widow and a very young daughter.
Oh, dear. Suddenly, gifting Whilton to Nicholas appeared a very, very bad idea. William never expected his son to die that young—or to leave an infant girl as his heir. This was all very bad for the de Whelton family as Nicholas’ widow, Joyce, could claim a third of the income from the manor for life. And as to baby Felicia, well she was now the ward of William’s overlord (although the lord in this case was a lady) and her two-thirds of the income would end up in the hands of said lord. Instead of setting his son up for life, William had managed to lose control over 25% of his total income.
If we’re going to be correct, at the time Whilton was still under attainder as William had not managed to raise the money to cover the fine. This, however, was just a temporary setback. The gifting of Whilton was a much more permanent setback. The future of the de Whelton family now depended on whether the gift was valid yes or no.
Joan de Stuteville was the overlord of Whilton and thereby automatically became Felicia’s guardian. The baby was whisked away to be raised in Joan’s household and Joyce returned to her father, there to prepare for her next marriage. She was young, she was fertile and in possession of an annual income of 8 pounds or so from Whilton—assuming the gifting of the manor to Nicholas was considered legal.
Joan de Stuteville was all for upholding the gift. After all, this gave her access to Felicia’s inheritance for well over a decade.
In all this upheaval, William de Whelton died, still without having paid the fine. It fell to his eldest son, Roger, to finalise these matters. Roger was short of money and when Joyce’s father approached him with a plan, he therefore listened.
William la Zouche was determined to do his best for his recently widowed daughter. In this case this meant negotiating a good second marriage for her and to do so it would help if Joyce brought a nice chunk of property to her new husband.
La Zouche’s plan was simple: Roger was to claim his father’s grant to Nicholas was invalid. Thereby, Whilton reverted to Roger. La Zouche would lend him the money Roger required to pay the fine and in turn Roger would name William la Zouche his heir for Whilton—and for his other three manors. Effectively, la Zouche was cheating little Felicia out of her inheritance to boost his daughter’s marital prospects. He sugar-coated the offer by throwing in some land which would pass from Roger to “heirs of his body.” If no such heirs existed, this land would revert to la Zouche.
All very complicated, isn’t it? The end result was that Joyce became quite the catch. She’d bring four manors to her future husband rather than a paltry eight pounds a year. Roger would be able to pay the fine, end up with some land and have use of the manors for his life. Felicia would be left disinherited and dependent on the goodwill of her relatives. In view of how they were all acting—her maternal grandfather, her paternal uncle, even her mother—this was not a good thing for Felicia.
One major hurdle remained for Roger. He had to prove his father’s grant of Whilton was invalid. To do so, he examined just what decisions Nicholas took during those fifteen days in which he’d been in possession of Whilton prior to re-granting it to William. Turns out burning wood and taking oaths was not enough. Nicholas should have ordered a field to be ploughed or had a pig slaughtered or fired the reeve. Nicholas did none of this. Had he lived it would never have mattered. Now, however, he was as dead as a rock and the one paying the price for his ploughing negligence was his little daughter.
For years, the dispute was brought before various assizes and juries. The fact that Roger had signed a quitclaim was neither here nor there—unless Nicholas had properly taken possession, the document was irrelevant. For years, Felicia’s guardian defended the rights of her ward against Felicia’s family and stepfather.
In 1273, Joyce remarried. Her new groom was Robert de Mortimer and he was determined to see his wife recognised as heir to those four manors. After all, he hoped she would give him a son, a boy to inherit those nice, fat livings. At the time, Felicia (well, her guardian, seeing as Felicia was at most eight) was in possession of Whilton. Some months later, her representatives were ejected by the Mortimers who now claimed they had seisin of the manor.
Once again, the case was dragged before the assizes. One judge gave Felicia the right of it, another ruled in Joyce’s favour. Somewhere along the lines this had become a mother-daughter fight, something which must have soured their relationship permanently. Back and forth went the rulings until, in 1280, the courts handed down a final verdict: Roger de Mortimer and his wife Joyce were to be considered rightful owner of Whilton. Felicia had lost it all: her father, her lands and, one assumes, her mother—and all because her father had been somewhat remiss in claiming possession.
Things did not end here. Once Felicia married, her husband was as determined as de Mortimer to get his hands on Whilton. What then followed is probably the longest ever land dispute in English history, stretching all the way from 1264 to 1380. Along the way a wife would poison her husband, cousins would marry cousins and one judge after the other would be presented with a case where the stack of documents grew into a huge tottering pile. How it all ended? Well, I am happy to report Felicia’s descendants won out—but that, I think, is the subject for a future post.
All pictures in public domain and/or licensed under Wikimedia Creative Commons
~~~~~~~~~~~
Had Anna Belfrage been allowed to choose, she’d have become a professional time-traveller. As such a profession does not exist, she became a financial professional with two absorbing interests, namely history and writing.
Presently, Anna is hard at work with The King’s Greatest Enemy, a series set in the 1320s featuring Adam de Guirande, his wife Kit, and their adventures and misfortunes in connection with Roger Mortimer’s rise to power. And yes, Edmund of Woodstock appears quite frequently. The first book, In The Shadow of the Storm was published in 2015, the second, Days of Sun and Glory, was published in July 2016, and the third, Under the Approaching Dark, was published in April 2017. The fourth instalment, The Cold Light of Dawn, was published in February 2018.
When Anna is not stuck in the 14th century, she's probably visiting in the 17th century, specifically with Alex(andra) and Matthew Graham, the protagonists of the acclaimed The Graham Saga. This is the story of two people who should never have met – not when she was born three centuries after him. The ninth book, There is Always a Tomorrow, was published in November 2017.
In 1264, William de Whelton faced something of a conundrum. He wasn’t alone. England was at war, on the one side Simon de Montfort seemed to be carrying the day, on the other King Henry III and his son, the future Edward I, claimed hereditary right to rule. In between were all those men who were fast approaching a point at which they had to choose sides. Sitting on the fence was not an option, not when the rattling of swords and lances clearly proclaimed the conflict was about to turn bloody. Very bloody.
To choose wrongly came at a price. Whoever ended up on the losing side could say bye-bye to whatever manors they might have had. This may be the reason behind William’s decision regarding his manor at Whilton. Maybe he was hoping to safeguard something for the future by granting the manor to his second son. Or maybe it was as simple as William wanting Nicholas de Whelton to have his own land and by granting him the manor in his own lifetime he could bypass the laws of inheritance that would otherwise have seen all his belongings pass to his eldest son.
To ensure his second son had property was also a way to facilitate Nicholas’ search for a bride. At the time, Nicholas had found a bride and as Joyce la Zouche came from a powerful family I imagine her father would have insisted on Nicholas having something to his name so as to safeguard Joyce’s future dower income should Nicholas predecease her.
To take possession of land—delivery of seisin—was a rather formal affair. Not so that it required a lot of written documentation. No, delivery of seisin was all about actively doing a number of things. In view of future events, a written document would not have been a bad idea, but in 1264 William saw no reason to have his clerk put quill to parchment. After all, he knew exactly what the next steps were.
First of all, William had to visibly transfer ownership. This was done by a ritual whereby William led Nicholas up to the main entrance of the manor and placed his hand on the door hasp, thereby “giving” him the door and all the contents within. Then he presented Nicholas with a branch of a fruit tree to show that Nicholas now had the right to make use of everything that grew on the manor. Finally, once he’d done this, William waved “bye-bye” to his son (and Joyce, one presumes) and left Nicholas to formally take possession.
Taking possession in this case meant Nicholas remained at Whilton for two weeks or so, very much behaving like the lord of the manor. He burned wood, he took oaths of fealty from the tenants and did some fishing—all of this to show he was entitled to use the land as he saw fit.
Two weeks later, William returned and now it was Nicholas’ turn to grant the manor back to his father for life. After all this seisin stuff the manor was formally Nicholas’ and once William was dead the full use of the manor would revert to Nicholas, not to big brother Roger who, according to the laws of primogeniture that were applied to everything to do with land, otherwise would inherit. As an aside, it is interesting to note that William could never have written a will in which he left one of his manors to Nicholas as this would never have been recognised as a valid transfer of land, not when there was an older brother. But gifting land in your own lifetime was okay.
Anyway: to really seal the deal William then persuaded his eldest son Roger de Whelton to sign a quitclaim, a document in which he accepted his father’s gift to his younger brother. After all this, Nicholas was now safely in possession of Whilton—well, so one would think.
All William’s careful planning proved totally futile after August 1265. At the Battle of Evesham Simon de Montfort was killed and all those fighting for him were branded rebels, their lands forfeited. William and his sons had been fighting for Simon and so the de Whelton family suddenly found themselves without any manors at all. A most dire situation and had it not been for the fact that they were not exactly alone—many, many were the men of noble birth who were suddenly rendered destitute, thereby becoming a potentially dangerous and destabilising influence on society—this story would have ended there.
However, eager to bring peace and stability to his realm, King Henry approved the Dictum of Kenilworth. This allowed for the rebels to buy back their lands with a hefty fine. Yes, things would be tight for some years, but most who could leapt at the opportunity. So did those who did not have the money at the ready but hoped to somehow finance the repurchase of their hereditary lands. Among them was William. Not among them was Nicholas, who had sadly passed away, leaving a young widow and a very young daughter.
Oh, dear. Suddenly, gifting Whilton to Nicholas appeared a very, very bad idea. William never expected his son to die that young—or to leave an infant girl as his heir. This was all very bad for the de Whelton family as Nicholas’ widow, Joyce, could claim a third of the income from the manor for life. And as to baby Felicia, well she was now the ward of William’s overlord (although the lord in this case was a lady) and her two-thirds of the income would end up in the hands of said lord. Instead of setting his son up for life, William had managed to lose control over 25% of his total income.
If we’re going to be correct, at the time Whilton was still under attainder as William had not managed to raise the money to cover the fine. This, however, was just a temporary setback. The gifting of Whilton was a much more permanent setback. The future of the de Whelton family now depended on whether the gift was valid yes or no.
Joan de Stuteville was all for upholding the gift. After all, this gave her access to Felicia’s inheritance for well over a decade.
In all this upheaval, William de Whelton died, still without having paid the fine. It fell to his eldest son, Roger, to finalise these matters. Roger was short of money and when Joyce’s father approached him with a plan, he therefore listened.
William la Zouche was determined to do his best for his recently widowed daughter. In this case this meant negotiating a good second marriage for her and to do so it would help if Joyce brought a nice chunk of property to her new husband.
La Zouche’s plan was simple: Roger was to claim his father’s grant to Nicholas was invalid. Thereby, Whilton reverted to Roger. La Zouche would lend him the money Roger required to pay the fine and in turn Roger would name William la Zouche his heir for Whilton—and for his other three manors. Effectively, la Zouche was cheating little Felicia out of her inheritance to boost his daughter’s marital prospects. He sugar-coated the offer by throwing in some land which would pass from Roger to “heirs of his body.” If no such heirs existed, this land would revert to la Zouche.
All very complicated, isn’t it? The end result was that Joyce became quite the catch. She’d bring four manors to her future husband rather than a paltry eight pounds a year. Roger would be able to pay the fine, end up with some land and have use of the manors for his life. Felicia would be left disinherited and dependent on the goodwill of her relatives. In view of how they were all acting—her maternal grandfather, her paternal uncle, even her mother—this was not a good thing for Felicia.
One major hurdle remained for Roger. He had to prove his father’s grant of Whilton was invalid. To do so, he examined just what decisions Nicholas took during those fifteen days in which he’d been in possession of Whilton prior to re-granting it to William. Turns out burning wood and taking oaths was not enough. Nicholas should have ordered a field to be ploughed or had a pig slaughtered or fired the reeve. Nicholas did none of this. Had he lived it would never have mattered. Now, however, he was as dead as a rock and the one paying the price for his ploughing negligence was his little daughter.
For years, the dispute was brought before various assizes and juries. The fact that Roger had signed a quitclaim was neither here nor there—unless Nicholas had properly taken possession, the document was irrelevant. For years, Felicia’s guardian defended the rights of her ward against Felicia’s family and stepfather.
In 1273, Joyce remarried. Her new groom was Robert de Mortimer and he was determined to see his wife recognised as heir to those four manors. After all, he hoped she would give him a son, a boy to inherit those nice, fat livings. At the time, Felicia (well, her guardian, seeing as Felicia was at most eight) was in possession of Whilton. Some months later, her representatives were ejected by the Mortimers who now claimed they had seisin of the manor.
 |
| The Court of Common Pleas |
Things did not end here. Once Felicia married, her husband was as determined as de Mortimer to get his hands on Whilton. What then followed is probably the longest ever land dispute in English history, stretching all the way from 1264 to 1380. Along the way a wife would poison her husband, cousins would marry cousins and one judge after the other would be presented with a case where the stack of documents grew into a huge tottering pile. How it all ended? Well, I am happy to report Felicia’s descendants won out—but that, I think, is the subject for a future post.
All pictures in public domain and/or licensed under Wikimedia Creative Commons
~~~~~~~~~~~
Had Anna Belfrage been allowed to choose, she’d have become a professional time-traveller. As such a profession does not exist, she became a financial professional with two absorbing interests, namely history and writing.
Thursday, May 31, 2018
Margaret Campion, Business Woman
By Lauren Gilbert
Historically, women had limited options for their lives, and Georgian England was no exception. As any reader of Jane Austen’s novels knows, this situation resulted in marriage being a primary career objective. Lack of education and property laws restricted the ability of many women to support themselves respectably, or even adequately. However, there were always exceptions. Margaret Holt Campion, known as the first Lady Banker in northern England, was one of them.
Margaret Holt was born to John Holt and his wife Martha Storm Holt in 1748, the fourth of nine children. John Holt was a ship owner and tradesman in Whitby. Margaret’s brothers and sisters married local families involved with shipping, banking and other businesses. Margaret married Nathaniel Campion, a ship owner who was also engaged in trade, sailcloth weaving and flax spinning, and as a general merchant (including wine sales.) Available data indicates Margaret worked with her husband and with her own family on business involving ship building and trade. Margaret and her husband had a son Robert, born about 1773. (There is an indication that they also had daughters, but I found no record identifying them.) Around 1790, Arundel House in Whitby was built and at some point became the home of Margaret and Nathaniel and their family.
In 1792, Margaret partnered in building a ship named The Vigilant with her brothers Thomas and William Holt, and her sister Mary’s husband Christopher Richardson. Accounts for this venture were kept by her brother John Holt. As we can see, this was truly a family affair. The Vigilant’s maiden voyage was from Whitby to St. Petersburg, Russia in May of 1792, and she was engaged in trading runs to Russia, Stockholm and the West Indies until she was lost in 1797. (Records of the ship were sold through Bonham’s in 2007.)
After Nathaniel passed away in 1798, Margaret took control of his ships and various business interests. She paid the required fee and became a freeman of the Russian Company in her own right, authorized to trade in the Baltic. (The Russian Company, also known as the Muscovy Company, was a group of English merchants organized in 1555 by the explorer Sebastian Cabot that was awarded a monopoly on Russian trade. Its privileges were revoked by Tsar Alexis in 1649 and it lost its monopoly on Russian trade in 1698, but the company retained some influence and participated in the revival of British-Russian trade in the 18th century.) The Baltic trade was a risky business as illustrated by an episode that occurred in 1800 when Tsar Paul seized British ships and goods, causing significant losses to the ship owners and investors. Fortunately, neither the Campions nor their family connections sustained losses from this action.
In order to facilitate her many business interests, Margaret formed a bank with her son Robert, which opened January 2, 1800. Whitby was the 7th largest port in the United Kingdom, and home to numerous ship builders and other businesses, so banking offered the potential for significant profit. By all accounts, Margaret was a respected and influential business person in her own right. Robert married Jane Smales, whose father was also a ship owner. (Her father insisted that Jane’s portion be settled on her at the time of the marriage.) Robert and Jane had a son, John, born May 8, 1803 at Whitby. Records indicate Margaret and Robert operated Campion Bank and their other business interests successfully, with the Campions becoming one of the most well-to-do families in Whitby. The bank occupied Campion Bank House on Church Street in Whitby, shown above. Margaret died February 15, 1804.
After Margaret’s death, Robert carried on the bank and business interests as sole partner, adding a wine business and expanding certain of the existing interests, including obtaining a patent in 1813 for an invention to prepare yarn for making sailcloth. His son John joined him as a partner in 1817 with the bank, although there is no indication that John was particularly ambitious or active in the family businesses. The bank and businesses continued to be quite successful as, by 1826, Robert was known as a very wealthy man and had started signing his name Robert Campion, Esq. of Bagdale. Robert and John were known for their philanthropic contributions, particularly to abolitionist causes, and built a monument to Captain Cook in 1827. Unfortunately, Robert and John appeared to be more interested in their gentlemanly pursuits than advancing their business interests after this point.
There are indications the businesses were taking on debt. The bank ultimately failed in 1841, greatly encumbered. The records of the Commission of Bankruptcy in 1842 shows the bank and the Campion ship owners in debt to the tune of almost 40,000 pounds, and that Robert and John were also personally significantly in debt. In spite of their precarious financial state, Robert and John maintained their gentlemen’s lifestyles (perhaps in part because John’s father-in-law required that his daughter’s portion be settled, protecting her interests). Robert died on December 10, 1866. At some point after the business failed, John gave up his business career and became a clergyman. (In the directories, he is described as gentleman.) He became a deacon in 1843 and was ordained in 1845. After resigning his living at St. James’ Church, Doncaster in January of 1890 due to poor health, John died May 19, 1894.
Margaret Holt Campion spent her life as a business woman, as well as a wife and mother. She maintained and advanced the business interests left by her husband, and was the senior partner of the bank she started with her son, which was successful under her care. I don’t think it’s too much to say that she was significantly responsible for building the family wealth that allowed her son and grandson to consider themselves gentlemen. Although they managed to keep things going well for 22 years, neither Robert nor John was willing to sustain the effort; nor did they seem to care enough to find competent managers. Sadly, Margaret’s business legacy did not survive.
Sources include:
Dawes, Margaret and Selwyn, Nesta. Women who made money WOMEN PARTNERS IN BRITISH PRIVATE BANKS 1752-1906. 2010: Trafford Publishing, Bloomington, IN.
Arundelhousehotel.co.uk. “Arundel House.” HERE
Bonhams.com. “Lot 706 Shipbuilding.” HERE
Britannica.com. “Muscovy Company.” HERE
Genealogy.com. “Holts of Whitby, Yorkshire, UK 1700-1850” by Genealogy.com user, February 25, 1999. HERE
GoogleBooks.com Craig, Beatrice. WOMEN AND BUSINESS SINCE 1500: Invisible Presences in Europe and North America. P. 161. 2016: Palgrave (imprint of Macmillan Publishers Ltd.), London. HERE ; Phillips, Maberly. A HISTORY OF BANKS, BANKERS AND BANKING IN NORTHUMBERLAND, DURHAM AND NORTH YORKSHIRE. PP 219-221. 1894: Effingham, Wilson & Co. London. HERE
Discovery.ucl.ac.uk. “A Maritime History of the Port of Whitby, 1700-1914” by Stephanie Karen Jones. Thesis submitted to the University College London 1982. HERE
Image: Wikimedia Commons. Campion Bank House by Mike Kirby. HERE
~~~~~~~~~~
Lauren Gilbert lives with her husband Ed in Florida, where the roses, gardenias and plumeria are currently blooming in the yard. She is a member of the Jane Austen Society of North America. Her first book, HEYERWOOD: A Novel, is available, and her second A RATIONAL ATTACHMENT is due out soon. Please visit her website HERE.
 |
| Campion Banking House, originally founded 1800 |
Margaret Holt was born to John Holt and his wife Martha Storm Holt in 1748, the fourth of nine children. John Holt was a ship owner and tradesman in Whitby. Margaret’s brothers and sisters married local families involved with shipping, banking and other businesses. Margaret married Nathaniel Campion, a ship owner who was also engaged in trade, sailcloth weaving and flax spinning, and as a general merchant (including wine sales.) Available data indicates Margaret worked with her husband and with her own family on business involving ship building and trade. Margaret and her husband had a son Robert, born about 1773. (There is an indication that they also had daughters, but I found no record identifying them.) Around 1790, Arundel House in Whitby was built and at some point became the home of Margaret and Nathaniel and their family.
In 1792, Margaret partnered in building a ship named The Vigilant with her brothers Thomas and William Holt, and her sister Mary’s husband Christopher Richardson. Accounts for this venture were kept by her brother John Holt. As we can see, this was truly a family affair. The Vigilant’s maiden voyage was from Whitby to St. Petersburg, Russia in May of 1792, and she was engaged in trading runs to Russia, Stockholm and the West Indies until she was lost in 1797. (Records of the ship were sold through Bonham’s in 2007.)
After Nathaniel passed away in 1798, Margaret took control of his ships and various business interests. She paid the required fee and became a freeman of the Russian Company in her own right, authorized to trade in the Baltic. (The Russian Company, also known as the Muscovy Company, was a group of English merchants organized in 1555 by the explorer Sebastian Cabot that was awarded a monopoly on Russian trade. Its privileges were revoked by Tsar Alexis in 1649 and it lost its monopoly on Russian trade in 1698, but the company retained some influence and participated in the revival of British-Russian trade in the 18th century.) The Baltic trade was a risky business as illustrated by an episode that occurred in 1800 when Tsar Paul seized British ships and goods, causing significant losses to the ship owners and investors. Fortunately, neither the Campions nor their family connections sustained losses from this action.
In order to facilitate her many business interests, Margaret formed a bank with her son Robert, which opened January 2, 1800. Whitby was the 7th largest port in the United Kingdom, and home to numerous ship builders and other businesses, so banking offered the potential for significant profit. By all accounts, Margaret was a respected and influential business person in her own right. Robert married Jane Smales, whose father was also a ship owner. (Her father insisted that Jane’s portion be settled on her at the time of the marriage.) Robert and Jane had a son, John, born May 8, 1803 at Whitby. Records indicate Margaret and Robert operated Campion Bank and their other business interests successfully, with the Campions becoming one of the most well-to-do families in Whitby. The bank occupied Campion Bank House on Church Street in Whitby, shown above. Margaret died February 15, 1804.
After Margaret’s death, Robert carried on the bank and business interests as sole partner, adding a wine business and expanding certain of the existing interests, including obtaining a patent in 1813 for an invention to prepare yarn for making sailcloth. His son John joined him as a partner in 1817 with the bank, although there is no indication that John was particularly ambitious or active in the family businesses. The bank and businesses continued to be quite successful as, by 1826, Robert was known as a very wealthy man and had started signing his name Robert Campion, Esq. of Bagdale. Robert and John were known for their philanthropic contributions, particularly to abolitionist causes, and built a monument to Captain Cook in 1827. Unfortunately, Robert and John appeared to be more interested in their gentlemanly pursuits than advancing their business interests after this point.
There are indications the businesses were taking on debt. The bank ultimately failed in 1841, greatly encumbered. The records of the Commission of Bankruptcy in 1842 shows the bank and the Campion ship owners in debt to the tune of almost 40,000 pounds, and that Robert and John were also personally significantly in debt. In spite of their precarious financial state, Robert and John maintained their gentlemen’s lifestyles (perhaps in part because John’s father-in-law required that his daughter’s portion be settled, protecting her interests). Robert died on December 10, 1866. At some point after the business failed, John gave up his business career and became a clergyman. (In the directories, he is described as gentleman.) He became a deacon in 1843 and was ordained in 1845. After resigning his living at St. James’ Church, Doncaster in January of 1890 due to poor health, John died May 19, 1894.
Margaret Holt Campion spent her life as a business woman, as well as a wife and mother. She maintained and advanced the business interests left by her husband, and was the senior partner of the bank she started with her son, which was successful under her care. I don’t think it’s too much to say that she was significantly responsible for building the family wealth that allowed her son and grandson to consider themselves gentlemen. Although they managed to keep things going well for 22 years, neither Robert nor John was willing to sustain the effort; nor did they seem to care enough to find competent managers. Sadly, Margaret’s business legacy did not survive.
Sources include:
Dawes, Margaret and Selwyn, Nesta. Women who made money WOMEN PARTNERS IN BRITISH PRIVATE BANKS 1752-1906. 2010: Trafford Publishing, Bloomington, IN.
Arundelhousehotel.co.uk. “Arundel House.” HERE
Bonhams.com. “Lot 706 Shipbuilding.” HERE
Britannica.com. “Muscovy Company.” HERE
Genealogy.com. “Holts of Whitby, Yorkshire, UK 1700-1850” by Genealogy.com user, February 25, 1999. HERE
GoogleBooks.com Craig, Beatrice. WOMEN AND BUSINESS SINCE 1500: Invisible Presences in Europe and North America. P. 161. 2016: Palgrave (imprint of Macmillan Publishers Ltd.), London. HERE ; Phillips, Maberly. A HISTORY OF BANKS, BANKERS AND BANKING IN NORTHUMBERLAND, DURHAM AND NORTH YORKSHIRE. PP 219-221. 1894: Effingham, Wilson & Co. London. HERE
Discovery.ucl.ac.uk. “A Maritime History of the Port of Whitby, 1700-1914” by Stephanie Karen Jones. Thesis submitted to the University College London 1982. HERE
Image: Wikimedia Commons. Campion Bank House by Mike Kirby. HERE
~~~~~~~~~~
Lauren Gilbert lives with her husband Ed in Florida, where the roses, gardenias and plumeria are currently blooming in the yard. She is a member of the Jane Austen Society of North America. Her first book, HEYERWOOD: A Novel, is available, and her second A RATIONAL ATTACHMENT is due out soon. Please visit her website HERE.
Monday, May 28, 2018
The Enchantment of The Bayeux Tapestry
by Carol McGrath
The Bayeux Tapestry has retained its enchantment and its vivid colour almost a thousand years after it was embroidered. It tells the story of The Norman Conquest through beautifully framed vignettes and long-shot depictions made in embroidery from Harold Godwinson's departure on a mysterious mission to Normandy in 1064 until his death at Hastings in October 1066. I have often wondered about the fabric and the natural dyes used for the embroidery wools in the Tapestry's construction.
Carola Hicks wrote in her wonderful book The Bayeux Tapestry, The Life Story of a Masterpiece, "Made from the workaday fabrics of linen and wool, the Tapestry has often been described as an uncharacteristically humble artifact when compared to other works of the period, even an example of quaint folk art."
It is true that the Tapestry is not sewn with valuable gold, silver, and gems, or silk embroidery threads. It is by Anglo-Saxon standards a modest work, and yet it is a glorious feat of craftsmanship and artistry. The Tapestry is constructed in the everyday fabrics of linen and wool. Even so, its fabrics were designed and executed as the result of practice by extremely talented craftsmen.
Here in Tapestry the dramatic story of the Norman invasion of England is stitched out and embroidered on strips of linen. It is seventy meters in length and half a meter wide. The fact that these homely though durable fabrics, linen and wool, were used are the reason for its preservation despite its great age and fragility. Most of what we see today is original. Even where the Tapestry has been repaired we can still see the original stitch marks.
Linen and The Tapestry
Linen has a long history. The ancient Egyptians found linen's sweat-absorbent and cooling properties divine. They attributed the invention of linen to the goddess Isis. With the advent of Christianity linen was used for priestly garments. It actually had a high status. It comes from the flax plant which was sown after Easter and harvested three months later. In the Middle-Ages the young plants were pulled by hand and never cut. Cutting might damage the stems. Plant stalks were soaked till they were decomposing, dried out, then smashed with mallets to separate the outer bark from the inner fibres. These were spun into thread on a hand spindle. Medieval women spun constantly. They attached a bundle of flax fibres to the cone-shaped top of a pole , the distaff. Then the other end was tucked under the spinner's arm. A spinner drew the fibres out from the top, twisted them onto a weighted whorl, then spun them tightly into a thread.
The Bayeux Tapestry consists of nine separate panels sewn together after they were embroidered. The two longest strips measure nearly 14 meters. This suggests a long warp or length setting. Other Tapestry sections are shorter. The original lengths were woven a meter wide and then cut to make strips that would be comfortable to embroider. A loom is used to weave the threads into lengths of fabric. Carola Hicks thought that professional weavers made the linen on a horizontal treadle loom, a more advanced machine than an upright warp-weighted loom that was used to make woollen cloth.
When the linen was woven it was a natural brown in colour. The linen was bleached by boiling it in a solution of water alkalized by the addition of wood ash, fern or seaweed. It was stretched out on frames for exposure to the light. It was still kept damp. After a period of three weeks or so the linen was soaked in a solution of sour milk fermented by rye or bran. The fabric was pounded with a piece of marble or glass to create a smooth silky texture.
Wool Embroidery on The Tapestry
It is considered by most Tapestry historians that there was a common cartoon source for the Tapestry design. There is a similarity between the images, especially those of figures, emblems, plants, and animals, and those depicted on Canterbury manuscripts of the period. This suggests Canterbury as the location for the Tapestry's overall design. However, between three and eight workshops are suggested for the linen's weaving. There were probably several embroidery workshops involved as well. Likely contenders were Canterbury and Wilton.
Queen Edith, the widow of Edward the Confessor, was one of the most notable embroiderers of the era, and after her husband's death she retired to Wilton Abbey which had a school for embroiderers. She may have had a hand in the execution of the Bayeux Tapestry. It is recorded in The Vita Edwardi Regis, completed around 1066-69, a few years after Edward's death, that several people were with Edward just before his death. There were Harold Godwin and Archbishop Stigund. Edith, one of three women depicted on the Tapestry, who warmed his feet in her lap can be seen kneeling at the bottom of his bed. According to the Vita, Edward gave a prophetic vision and then said a few words to comfort Edith. Interestingly, Edward's death scene as depicted in embroidery on the Tapestry corresponds to that described in the Vita which was commissioned by Queen Edith. Wilton Abbey is, I suggest, one of the locations for the Tapestry's construction. Queen Edith may even contributed to which scenes should be included and their depiction.
The embroidery is stitched in strands of worsted wool, the end product of an old and complicated process. An enormous amount of wool was dyed. Carola Hicks states more than 45 kilograms was used for the embroidery. The original wools remain vivid. They are also more resistant to moth than chemically dyed wools. Winchester was one of the cities that monitored the practice of dyers within its jurisdiction since dyes produced noxious waste products and hideous odours. Alum which was valuable was the favoured mordant. Dye ingredients came from animal, vegetable or mineral products acquired locally. Sometimes ingredients were imported from further afield to be smashed, boiled, and simmered, concentrated to extract the essence of a hue.
There are ten main tones on the Tapestry. They came from only three plants, woad, madder and weld. The dyes were blended into two reds, a yellow and a beige, three tones of blue and three tones of green.
Beige and yellow came from the flowers and leaves of weld.
Green also came from weld but it was mixed with the leaves of woad.
Woad produced the blues.
The reds came from madder. The roots of madder were ground into a powder, heated and simmered with added chalk or lime at a constant temperature for not more than two hours. Once a whole fleece was dyed to the required colours, a hand held spindle was used to turn the fibres into bales of worsted.
A friend of mine, Charles Jones, has had spinners and embroiderers working on a tapestry to tell the story of The Battle of Fulford September 1066. Here are a few of the dying recipes he has used to reproduce authentically the colours which his embroiderers used. Be careful if you try them out.
Weld
Chop lengths to boil for one and a half hours
Add wool and pinch of tartar
simmer for one hour
one hank of woad dyed wool added to light green will produce dark yellow.
Walnuts
5lbs of walnuts smashed and put to soak for twenty four hours
Tap water and a half cup of vinegar
Soak the wool for two days and then simmer for half an hour will produce a nut brown shade
Oak Gall Powder
20 gm of oak gall powder
boil for 30 minutes
teaspoon of salt
alum mordanted wool added
cook for twenty minutes
fix with salt and vinegar
Produces a light green-brown
These are just a few of the recipes used for dying wool used in embroidering a latter-day tapestry replica. I wonder if EHFA readers have had experience of creating dyes for wool using similar methods.
[This is an Editors' Choice archive post, originally published on this blog on 18th November 2014]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Carol McGrath is the author of The Handfasted Wife (2013) published by Accent Press and inspired by The Bayeux Tapestry.
The Swan-Daughter published by Accent Press (2014) is available now from Amazon.co.uk and from Amazon.com.
The Bayeux Tapestry has retained its enchantment and its vivid colour almost a thousand years after it was embroidered. It tells the story of The Norman Conquest through beautifully framed vignettes and long-shot depictions made in embroidery from Harold Godwinson's departure on a mysterious mission to Normandy in 1064 until his death at Hastings in October 1066. I have often wondered about the fabric and the natural dyes used for the embroidery wools in the Tapestry's construction.
 |
| Scene from The Bayeux Tapestry |
Carola Hicks wrote in her wonderful book The Bayeux Tapestry, The Life Story of a Masterpiece, "Made from the workaday fabrics of linen and wool, the Tapestry has often been described as an uncharacteristically humble artifact when compared to other works of the period, even an example of quaint folk art."
It is true that the Tapestry is not sewn with valuable gold, silver, and gems, or silk embroidery threads. It is by Anglo-Saxon standards a modest work, and yet it is a glorious feat of craftsmanship and artistry. The Tapestry is constructed in the everyday fabrics of linen and wool. Even so, its fabrics were designed and executed as the result of practice by extremely talented craftsmen.
 |
| Woodland Scene from the Tapestry |
Here in Tapestry the dramatic story of the Norman invasion of England is stitched out and embroidered on strips of linen. It is seventy meters in length and half a meter wide. The fact that these homely though durable fabrics, linen and wool, were used are the reason for its preservation despite its great age and fragility. Most of what we see today is original. Even where the Tapestry has been repaired we can still see the original stitch marks.
 |
| Spinning |
Linen and The Tapestry
Linen has a long history. The ancient Egyptians found linen's sweat-absorbent and cooling properties divine. They attributed the invention of linen to the goddess Isis. With the advent of Christianity linen was used for priestly garments. It actually had a high status. It comes from the flax plant which was sown after Easter and harvested three months later. In the Middle-Ages the young plants were pulled by hand and never cut. Cutting might damage the stems. Plant stalks were soaked till they were decomposing, dried out, then smashed with mallets to separate the outer bark from the inner fibres. These were spun into thread on a hand spindle. Medieval women spun constantly. They attached a bundle of flax fibres to the cone-shaped top of a pole , the distaff. Then the other end was tucked under the spinner's arm. A spinner drew the fibres out from the top, twisted them onto a weighted whorl, then spun them tightly into a thread.
 |
| Retting (cleaning) the flax |
The Bayeux Tapestry consists of nine separate panels sewn together after they were embroidered. The two longest strips measure nearly 14 meters. This suggests a long warp or length setting. Other Tapestry sections are shorter. The original lengths were woven a meter wide and then cut to make strips that would be comfortable to embroider. A loom is used to weave the threads into lengths of fabric. Carola Hicks thought that professional weavers made the linen on a horizontal treadle loom, a more advanced machine than an upright warp-weighted loom that was used to make woollen cloth.
 |
| Upright weaving frame |
When the linen was woven it was a natural brown in colour. The linen was bleached by boiling it in a solution of water alkalized by the addition of wood ash, fern or seaweed. It was stretched out on frames for exposure to the light. It was still kept damp. After a period of three weeks or so the linen was soaked in a solution of sour milk fermented by rye or bran. The fabric was pounded with a piece of marble or glass to create a smooth silky texture.
Wool Embroidery on The Tapestry
It is considered by most Tapestry historians that there was a common cartoon source for the Tapestry design. There is a similarity between the images, especially those of figures, emblems, plants, and animals, and those depicted on Canterbury manuscripts of the period. This suggests Canterbury as the location for the Tapestry's overall design. However, between three and eight workshops are suggested for the linen's weaving. There were probably several embroidery workshops involved as well. Likely contenders were Canterbury and Wilton.
Queen Edith, the widow of Edward the Confessor, was one of the most notable embroiderers of the era, and after her husband's death she retired to Wilton Abbey which had a school for embroiderers. She may have had a hand in the execution of the Bayeux Tapestry. It is recorded in The Vita Edwardi Regis, completed around 1066-69, a few years after Edward's death, that several people were with Edward just before his death. There were Harold Godwin and Archbishop Stigund. Edith, one of three women depicted on the Tapestry, who warmed his feet in her lap can be seen kneeling at the bottom of his bed. According to the Vita, Edward gave a prophetic vision and then said a few words to comfort Edith. Interestingly, Edward's death scene as depicted in embroidery on the Tapestry corresponds to that described in the Vita which was commissioned by Queen Edith. Wilton Abbey is, I suggest, one of the locations for the Tapestry's construction. Queen Edith may even contributed to which scenes should be included and their depiction.
 |
| King Edward's Death Scene |
The embroidery is stitched in strands of worsted wool, the end product of an old and complicated process. An enormous amount of wool was dyed. Carola Hicks states more than 45 kilograms was used for the embroidery. The original wools remain vivid. They are also more resistant to moth than chemically dyed wools. Winchester was one of the cities that monitored the practice of dyers within its jurisdiction since dyes produced noxious waste products and hideous odours. Alum which was valuable was the favoured mordant. Dye ingredients came from animal, vegetable or mineral products acquired locally. Sometimes ingredients were imported from further afield to be smashed, boiled, and simmered, concentrated to extract the essence of a hue.
There are ten main tones on the Tapestry. They came from only three plants, woad, madder and weld. The dyes were blended into two reds, a yellow and a beige, three tones of blue and three tones of green.
 |
| Weld |
Beige and yellow came from the flowers and leaves of weld.
Green also came from weld but it was mixed with the leaves of woad.
Woad produced the blues.
 |
| Woad |
The reds came from madder. The roots of madder were ground into a powder, heated and simmered with added chalk or lime at a constant temperature for not more than two hours. Once a whole fleece was dyed to the required colours, a hand held spindle was used to turn the fibres into bales of worsted.
A friend of mine, Charles Jones, has had spinners and embroiderers working on a tapestry to tell the story of The Battle of Fulford September 1066. Here are a few of the dying recipes he has used to reproduce authentically the colours which his embroiderers used. Be careful if you try them out.
Weld
Chop lengths to boil for one and a half hours
Add wool and pinch of tartar
simmer for one hour
one hank of woad dyed wool added to light green will produce dark yellow.
Walnuts
5lbs of walnuts smashed and put to soak for twenty four hours
Tap water and a half cup of vinegar
Soak the wool for two days and then simmer for half an hour will produce a nut brown shade
Oak Gall Powder
20 gm of oak gall powder
boil for 30 minutes
teaspoon of salt
alum mordanted wool added
cook for twenty minutes
fix with salt and vinegar
Produces a light green-brown
These are just a few of the recipes used for dying wool used in embroidering a latter-day tapestry replica. I wonder if EHFA readers have had experience of creating dyes for wool using similar methods.
[This is an Editors' Choice archive post, originally published on this blog on 18th November 2014]
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Carol McGrath is the author of The Handfasted Wife (2013) published by Accent Press and inspired by The Bayeux Tapestry.
The Swan-Daughter published by Accent Press (2014) is available now from Amazon.co.uk and from Amazon.com.
Sunday, May 27, 2018
Editors Weekly Round-up, May 27, 2018
by the EHFA Editors
English Historical Fiction Authors brings you posts every week on different aspects of British history, society, and culture. Check out the articles for the week ending May 26:
English Historical Fiction Authors brings you posts every week on different aspects of British history, society, and culture. Check out the articles for the week ending May 26:
by Paula Lofting
by Margaret Porter
an Editor's Choice from the Archives
Friday, May 25, 2018
Garden Guide for English Historical Authors: Spring
by Margaret Porter
 |
| Tulips and primula |
'Planting and gardening addes much to the Health and Content of Man.' Moses Cook, 1676
'My Garden, like my Life, seems to me every Year to want Correction and require attention.' Alexander Pope, 1736
This is the fourth and last seasonal gardening guide, with information taken from 17th and 18th century sources in my personal library. I took the photographs either in historic gardens in England or in my own 21st century gardens, in which I grow heritage plants. The previous three entries are: Garden Guide for English Historical Authors: Summer and Garden Guide for English Historical Authors: Autumn, and Garden Guide for English Historical Authors: Winter.
With the advent of spring, garden tasks multiplied, in the past as they do nowadays. Seedlings and young plants established on hotbeds had to be planted out in prepared sites where they could thrive, grow and bear. The onset of warmer weather meant that pleasure gardens would serve areas for display of flowers and fruit, enjoyment, and relaxation, hence the need to continuing the tidying begun in winter's waning days. Printed garden guides provided explicit instructions to the professional as well as the common gardener.
 |
| Bluebells in springtime |
MARCH
'First sturdy March with brows full sternly bend,
And armed strongly, rode upon a Ram,
The same which over Hellespontus swam:
Yet in his hand a spade he also hent,
And in a bag all sorts of seeds ysame,
And fild her wombe with fruifull hope of nourishment'
Edward Spenser, The Faerie Queene
In the kitchen garden. Ensure that cucumber and melon hot beds are properly warm, with lively but moderate heat. Sow seeds of both throughout the month. Make new hot beds for moving transplants. Transplant cabbage and lettuce plants, and plant cauliflowers in rich ground. Sow broccoli, cabbage, savoy, spinach, onions, leeks, radish, carrots, beans, peas, turnips, celery, parsnips, tomato or love-apple, asparagus, chervil, coriander, parsley, basil, and other pot and medicinal herbs. Plant cuttings of rosemary and rue. Dress existing asparagus and artichoke beds, forking or lightly digging, then raking. Plant potato beds and Jerusalem artichokes. Shake the nut trees to loosen pollen from the catkins; this will fertilise the flowers.
In the fruit garden. Prune fig trees, cut out branches overtopping the wall. Plant fruit trees of all kinds on walls, as espaliers, or as standards. Train young apricots, peach and nectarines planted against a wall. Prune and train apples, pears, plums, and cherries. Prune raspberries of deadwood and thin live shoots. Prune vines.
 |
| Hyacinth |
Garden produce: Winter spinach, some cabbages and savoys, broccoli, red and chard beets, parsnips, carrots, potatoes, Jerusalem artichokes, endive, all sorts of salad herbs.
From the hot beds: Cucumbers, peas, kidney beans, purslane. In warm borders: mint, tarragon, tansy, sage, parsley, marigolds, burnet, sorrel, hyssop, winter savory, rosemary, other pot herbs.
 |
| Persian iris |
 |
| Crown imperial |
 |
| Hellebore |
 |
| Hearts ease |
 |
| Primrose |
Tree and shrubs in flower: Apricot, almond, daphne mezereon, cherry plum, spurge laurel, laurustinus, cornelian cherry, honeysuckle.
Medicinal plants to gather: Elder buds, nettle tops, liverwort, primrose, violet, watercress.
Greenhouse plants in flower: Ilex-leaved lantana, Spanish Jasmine, Aleppo cyclamens, geraniums of several sorts, cotyledon, African marigold, Canary campanula, coffee tree, purple lotus, gladiolus.
APRIL
'And the buds and blossomes breathing forth pretious and pleasant Oders, rejoyce and delight the inward and outward senses.' Ralph Austen, A Treatise of Fruit Trees, 1653
'In Aprill about St George his day, you shall set abroad your citron and orange trees, as also such other trees as you had kept within house from St Martin's Day.' Richard Surflet, 1600
In the kitchen garden. Many vegetables sown in prior month may still be sown for successive crops. Transplant lettuce where there stand close. Thin radishes. Sow spinach. Plant early kidney beans in dry weather. Sow gourds and pumpkins. Sow broccoli for a winter crop. Sow borage, bugloss, clary sage, thyme, sweet marjoram, savory, burnet, sorrel, and hyssop. Continue to sow pot herbs. Also nasturtium and marigolds. Cuttings and slips of new growth from herbs can be planted, especially lavender and rosemary.
In the fruit garden. Continue planting fruit trees as required. With fumigating bellows, destroy insects that breed in this season and damage trees, pick off curled leaves. Protect blossoms and young fruit of trees from frost by covering with evergreen branches or mats, until fruits are as large as the end of a man's finger, or larger.
 |
| Cadytuft |
 |
| 18thC Sweet-scented pea |
Garden produce: Turnip shoots, spinach, radishes, asparagus, pot-marjoram, late celery and endive, chervil, young onions, leeks, scallions, borage, sage, rosemary, young carrots sown in autumn. From the hot-beds: cucumbers, peas, kidney beans, purslane, early cabbages.
 |
| Fritillary & daffodils |
Trees and shrubs in flower: White and purple and blue lilac, Persian lilac, laburnum, peach, pear, cherries of all sorts, plum, almond, hawthorn, Italian honeysuckles, Yellow jasmine, coronilla, dogwood, horse chestnut, spirea, azaleas.
 |
| Spirea |
 |
| Crabapple |
MAY
'There is no flower can be more glorious than the Poppy.' John Worlidge, 1677
 |
| Poppy |
In the kitchen garden. Melon beds and cucumber frames require especial care--early plants in frames will now show fruit. Maintain sufficient warms in the beds while fruit is setting. Admit fresh air to the plants each day by propping the glass. Shade the plants from the sun on the brightest days. Plant out the gourds and pumpkins sown in April. Plant out the tomato or love-apple plants sown earlier. Cut asparagus for the table. Transplant lettuce. Plant more beans and peas for later crops. Continue to sow pot herbs and propagate medicinal plants from slips and cuttings.
In the fruit garden. Train new shoots of wall trees. Thin apricots, peaches, and nectarines where the tree is too heavily laden with fruit. Water new-planted trees. Clear vines of all useless shoots. Train all shoots that have fruit upon them. Uncover fig branches in warm weather to prevent mold. continue to repair espalier frames. Transplant fruit trees. Look carefully after bullfinches, at this season they do great mischief to fruit trees by packing off blossom buds and can destroy all garden fruit in two or three days.
 |
| Parrot tulip |
Garden produce: Cabbages, savoys, broccoli, carrots, parsnips, turnips, red beets, salsify, cardoons, spinach, potatoes, artichokes, onions, leeks, garlic, shallots, sage, parsley, sorrel, mint, tansy, tarragon, sallet herbs, mushrooms, endive, celery, chervil. Pot herbs and aromatic plants: winter savory, hyssop, thyme, lavender, rosemary, pot-marjoram, burnet.
 |
| Foxglove |
 |
| Lawn roller |
Garden produce: Radishes, spinach, cabbage, lettuce, sorrel, mint, winter savory, borage, bugloss, young onions, chives, asparagus, peas, beans, early artichokes, cauliflower, young carrots in protected locations, cucumbers, melons, purslane, kidney beans on hot beds, mushrooms, parsley, coriander, chervil, cresses, mustard, burnet, tarragon, spring herbs for soups.
 |
| Lily of the valley |
Fruit for gathering: Cherries, strawberries in warm soil, late in the month gooseberries and green currants in warm situations.
In the forcing frame: Apricots, peaches, cherries, strawberries, other early fruits.
 |
| Lupine |
Trees, shrubs, and vines in flower: Yellow jasmine, lilacs, honeysuckles, whitethorn, Guelder rose, cinnamon rose, monthly rose, damask rose, burnet-leaved rose, Scotch rose, horse chestnut, laburnum, flowering almond, perfumed cherry, Portugal laurel, dwarf medlar, myrtle, double-flowering cherry, viburnum, dogwood, privet, flowering ash, common broom, clematis.
 |
| Blush damask rose |
 |
| Blush burnet rose |
 |
| Double flowering cherry |
Having closed out the seasonal guides to the gardening year, I hope they will prove informative and perhaps useful to my fellow authors, as well as interested historical fiction readers.
 |
| Flag iris |
 |
| Peony |
 |
| Everlasting pea |
 |
| Mallow |
English Garden History: Autumn Guide
English Garden History: Winter Guide
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Margaret Porter is the award-winning and bestselling author of twelve period novels, whose other publication credits include nonfiction and poetry. A Pledge of Better Times, her highly acclaimed novel of 17th century courtiers Lady Diana de Vere and Charles Beauclerk, 1st Duke of St. Albans, is her latest release, available in trade paperback and ebook. Margaret studied British history in the UK and the US. As historian, her areas of speciality are social, theatrical, and garden history of the 17th and 18th centuries, royal courts, and portraiture. A former actress, she gave up the stage and screen to devote herself to fiction writing, travel, and her rose gardens.
[This article is an Editors' Choice, first published on March 22 2016]
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