Life Below Stairs - Compensations and Obligations

by Regina Jeffers

With the popularity of Upstairs, Downstairs and Downtown Abbey, the populace has become more aware of the British servant class. So what do we know of those who lived “below stairs”? First, rank and precedence ruled those of the servant class as much as it did their masters. What was known as the “pugs procession” was commonplace among servants. Instead of the chatty scenes between upper and lower servants on Downtown Abbey, most household were ruled by “silence.” All the servants would take their dinner together in the servants’ hall, but then the upper servants (the house steward, the butler, and the housekeeper) would move to a private sitting room for their dessert.

The order of the day involved being neither seen nor heard. It was not unusual for maids to turn and face the wall if she encountered her master or mistress in the passageways. The appearance of the rooms were the responsibility of the upper housemaids. They addressed the draperies, the floral arrangements, the chair covers, etc. The under housemaids did the physical duties of laying a fire, polishing, cleaning the grates, etc. In Letters from England, Elizabeth Davis Bancroft, the wife of the U.S. Minister to England (1846-49), wrote, “The division of labour, or rather ceremonies, between the butler and the footman I have now mastered, I believe in some degree, but that between the upper and under housemaid is still a profound mystery to me, though the upper has explained to me for the twentieth time that she did only ‘the top of the work.”


from "Jane Austen's World"

Richard Henry Dana, son of the author of Two Years Before the Mast, spoke of a similar demarcation of duties in his Hospitable England in the Seventies. Dana had been invited to spend some time with Earl Spencer at Althorp. He and Lord Charles Bruce wished to play some lawn tennis, but they could find no one to whitewash the court’s markings in the grass. It seems that the job belonged to the “man-of-all-work,” but the servant was no where to be found. Dana said, “Neither the gardener, nor the footmen, nor the valets, nor the bootblacks nor, of course, the maids would help. Our hostess knew this so well that she did not even ask them.”

Servants did receive certain “compensations” for their service. They had a roof over their heads and four full meals per day – breakfast, dinner, tea, and supper. If they were enterprising enough, they could also have the remains of the masters’ meals. They received either a pint of home brewed beer (half pint for women) with each meal or a beer money allowance, usually 8d per day. The upper servants often were provided with wine for their meals. Wages were paid quarterly. Except for clothing, servants had few expenses, and a wise servant could save enough for a nest egg, to start a small business, or assist his struggling family. Loyal servants received pensions of £20 to £25. Smart upper servants could “earn” extra funds from tradesmen seeking the master’s business. The cook, traditionally, claimed the roast’s drippings as her own. The butler and footmen laid claimed to the candle butts. A smart butler might siphon off some of the master’s wine stock, either a decanter at a time or a whole bottle.

In “Life Below Stairs” by Frank Huggett, there is a list of wages (1888) from the records of the Duke of Richmond and Gordon paid out to the duke’s servants for a year’s service:

the house steward £100

the groom of the chamber £70

the valet, the housekeeper, and the cook £60 each

the butler £45

the footmen £26 to £34

the ladies’ maids £26 to £28

the stillroom maid £22

the kitchen maids £14 to £24

the housemaids and laundry maids £12 to £26

the scullery maid £12

Servants also EXPECTED to receive a tip from the master’s guests. A guest would leave a half-sovereign for the housemaid in honor of the condition she maintained his quarters, a sovereign for the groom of the chambers for lighting the candles each evening, likewise a sovereign for the butler for his personal advice and favors and a footman who acted as valet to a gentleman traveling without his personal servant. A guest might also tip the gamekeeper, etc. etc., etc. The list could easily grow to a tidy sum. Even visitors making tours of great estates were expected to tip the housekeepers guiding their tours.

And Heaven help the guest who did not meet his obligations. Upon his next visit, he might be housed in a drafty chamber or find his cut of meat the least desirable ones.

For more on Life Below Stairs, please visit my blog

Part II - Snobbery and Rules of Engagement
http://reginajeffers.wordpress.com/2012/01/24/life-below-stairs-part-i/
Part III - The Role of Male Servants
http://reginajeffers.wordpress.com/2012/01/30/life-below-stairs-part-3-the-role-of-the-male-servants/
Part IV - The Work Never Ends
http://reginajeffers.wordpress.com/2012/01/31/life-below-stairs-part-4-the-work-never-ends/

____________________________________________________________________


The Dissapearance of Georgiana Darcy
A Pride and Prejudice Mystery
By Regina Jeffers
(Released April 10, 2012)
A thrilling novel of malicious villains, dramatic revelations, and heroic gestures that stays true to Austen’s style

Darcy and Elizabeth have faced many challenges, but none as dire as the disappearance of Darcy’s beloved sister, Georgiana. After leaving for the family home in Scotland to be reunited with her new husband, Edward, she has disappeared without a trace. Upon receiving official word that Georgiana is presumed dead, Darcy and Elizabeth travel to the infamous Merrick Moor to launch a search for his sister in the unfamiliar and menacing Scottish countryside. Suspects abound, from the dastardly Wickham to the mysterious MacBethan family. Darcy has always protected his little sister, but how can he keep her safe from the most sinister threat she has ever faced when he doesn’t even know if she’s alive? Written in the language of the Regency era and including Austen’s romantic entanglements and sardonic humor, this suspense-packed sequel to Pride and Prejudice recasts Darcy and Elizabeth as a husband-and-wife detective team hunting for truth amid the dark moors of Scotland.

The British Enter America Through Ellis Island

by Vincent Parrillo

Most people do not think of British immigrants in connection with Ellis Island. In fact, most historical photographs of the place depict southern, central, and eastern Europeans, easily recognizable in their kerchiefs, folk costumes, or dark-haired, dark-complexioned countenances. In fact, in my own public television (PBS) documentary, Ellis Island: Gateway to America, I utilized many of those same images.

However, many British immigrants also went through Ellis Island. For example, in the 1890s— the period in which my historical novel, Guardians of the Gate, begins its tale of the people and events occurring there—nearly 329,000 emigrants left the United Kingdom for the United States. Some were first- and second-class passengers and therefore processed on board ship and not at Ellis Island. Most, though, were the lower and working classes traveling in steerage, and their first steps on American soil were on the Island. (Included in my novel, for example, is the true incident of the deportation of a Scottish family.)

Earlier, between 1870 and 1889, about 1.3 million British immigrants arrived. Ellis Island did not exist then, so they were processed at a state-run immigration station called Castle Garden, which previously had been a concert hall, and still stands in Battery Park at the southern tip of Manhattan. That impressive number was lessened somewhat by the hundreds of thousands of British subjects who left, disenchanted with what they had found in America. Perhaps, as Charles Dickens complained after his visit in 1842, they found Americans too rude, arrogant, anti-intellectual, prone to be violent, and hypocritical. His was a harsh judgment, indeed, but it didn’t stop other Brits from coming. Between 1900 and 1929, another 1.2 million British migrated to the United States. Again, most were first processed at Ellis Island to gain clearance for entry.

Just because they were British didn’t ensure these immigrants would breeze through Ellis Island. For example, among my weekly blogs that relate true immigrant stories is the firsthand account of a Scottish teenager arriving in 1921 with her family and the hunger and other tribulations they experienced there. A more recent blog gives the account of an English minister, whose 1911 detention on Ellis Island so disgusted him that he testified before a congressional committee on the abysmal conditions he encountered. If you’re interested, you can read these and other immigrant tales here.

Ellis Island was also a transit stop for several notorious or otherwise prominent British subjects. In 1903, anarchist John Turner was detained at Ellis Island and then deported to England because of his political opinions. Her political views kept English suffragette Emmeline Pankhurst detained on the Island in 1913 and then ordered deported by a Board of Special Inquiry on the grounds of “moral turpitude.” A public outcry prompted President Woodrow Wilson to reverse that decision two days later. Sir Auckland Geddes, British ambassador to the United States, inspected Ellis Island in 1922, and his report criticized its lack of cleanliness, inefficiency in handling appeals, smells, and wire cages. The controversial report strained relations between the two countries for a while.

Among some of the well-known British immigrants arriving in the Port of New York (although not all went through Ellis Island) were writer Rudyard Kipling (1892), comedian Henny Youngman (1906), comedian Bob Hope (1908), comedian Stan Laurel (1912), conductor Leopold Stokowski (1912), actor Cary Grant (1920), actor Leslie Howard (1921), and author Joseph Conrad (1923).

Born in London to an English-born cabinet maker of Polish heritage and an Irish-born mother, Stokowski presented what an Ellis Island inspector thought was a good opportunity. He told the future conductor that his name was “foreign” and he would give him a new name. “Thank you very much,” said Stokowski, but my name is Stokowski.” His voice rising more and more, he added, “It was my father’s name, and his father’s before him, and it will stay my name!” The inspector, accustomed to intimidating immigrants by his presence, was taken aback and quickly withdrew the offer.

Other prominent British expatriates who settled in the United States include model and actress Mischa Barton, musician Peter Frampton, labor leader Samuel Gompers, movie director Sir Alfred Hitchcock, actor Anthony Hopkins, actor Peter Lawford, and preservationist John Muir.

On average, about 17,000 British immigrants continue to arrive annually in the United States. These not-so-famous arrivals—mostly known only to their family, friends, and co-workers— settle in many states, but Southern California, particularly the Santa Monica region, has become the permanent home of several hundred thousand first-generation British Americans, who maintain their pubs and traditions among the surfers and rollerbladers.

Vincent N. Parrillo, Professor and Graduate Director
Department of Sociology, William Paterson University, Wayne, NJ 07470

Additional Resource

How Joan of Kent Became Princess of Wales

by Rosanne E. Lortz

Edward, the Black Prince, and Joan of Kent: a pair of star cross’d lovers that eventually came together in one of history’s true love matches. It took three marriages and over thirty years before Joan finally became the Princess of Wales, but if the chroniclers are to be believed, it was worth the wait.

Seal of Edward II

Joan, who later became known as “The Fair Maid of Kent,” was the daughter of Edmund of Woodstock, half brother to King Edward II of England. Edmund supported the king in the bitter battle against his wife Queen Isabella, pejoratively known as the “she-wolf of France.” When Isabella and her lover Roger Mortimer triumphed, Edward II was deposed, placed in prison, and later murdered. Edmund Woodstock, for the crime of remaining loyal to his brother, was sentenced to death for treason in 1330. As the story goes, Edmund had to wait nearly half a day for the authorities to find an executioner willing to do the deed since no one wanted to be responsible for his unjust death. Edmund of Woodstock was survived by his wife and four children. Joan, the third of Edmund’s progeny, was a little less than two years old at the time.

Young Edward III had been placed on the throne by Isabella and Mortimer, but he was more filial to his father’s memory than his mother’s commands. When he came of age, he organized a coup to remove the adulterous pair from power. Mortimer he executed, Isabella he imprisoned, and in a kindly gesture, he took Edmund Woodstock’s widow and her brood into his household to be provided for.

Edward III and the Black Prince

As these events were transpiring, Edward III’s wife Philippa gave birth to their oldest son, another Edward, to whom history would give the appellation, the “Black Prince of Wales.” This Prince Edward and his cousin  Joan were raised in close proximity to each other, and later events indicate that they grew to be fast friends. A marriage between the two was never considered, at least not by the one person who mattered. King Edward III was determined to secure for his eldest son a matrimonial alliance that would benefit the country of England. During the Black Prince’s early years, his father attempted at various times to betroth him to the daughter of the French king, the daughter of the Duke of Brabant, and a Portuguese princess. None of these marriage alliances materialized, however, and the prince was destined to remain a bachelor until the age of thirty, winning great glory on the battlefields of Crecy and Poitiers.

Joan, on the other hand, was in the unenviable position of having too many marriages materialize. When she was twelve years of age (fifteen or sixteen, according to other sources), she contracted a secret marriage with Thomas Holland, a man twice her age and seneschal to the house of Salisbury. Her royal family, it is certain, knew nothing of this marriage to Holland, for a few years later they betrothed her to William Montacute, the Earl of Salisbury. What happened next is unclear, whether Joan actually did go through with the marriage to Salisbury or whether the news of her earlier marriage came out first and prevented the ceremony. Holland, it is thought, must have been overseas at the time or he would have spoken up to prevent the polyandrous relationship. One fact at least is certain: there were now two Englishmen claiming Joan of Kent as their wife.

Joan’s opinion on the matter was that her first marriage to Thomas Holland was binding and ought to be recognized. But Joan’s opinion was also of little consequence. One story, perhaps apocryphal, describes the Earl of Salisbury locking the lady up in a tower and refusing to let her go to her first husband. An appeal was sent to the pope asking him to rule on the situation. Even though it had been undertaken without her guardians’ permission, Pope Clement VI decided in favor of the first marriage, and Joan took her place in Holland’s home as his wife.

Joan’s marriage to Thomas Holland produced two sons and two daughters. Her oldest son, Thomas, was privileged to have the Black Prince stand godfather to him at his baptism, a sign of the mutual regard between his mother and her cousin Edward. Holland, although his first appearance on the scene was as a lowly seneschal, rose swiftly in the world. He became Earl of Kent in right of his wife, and shortly before his death in 1360 was named captain-general of all of England’s holdings on the continent.

At Holland’s death, Joan—fabulously wealthy, still young, and still beautiful—was the most eligible widow in all of England. A French chronicler tells how many of the English lords sought her hand in marriage, asking the Black Prince to be the go-between and make the match. Here is historian Henry Dwight Sedgwick’s delightful summary of the story:

The widow, as I say, was a great catch, and, as in those martial days there was little time for the more delicate hesitations and diffidences of life, suitors very soon gathered round. Many gentlemen, knowing that she and the Prince were not only cousins but good friends, went to him and asked him to say a few words to her in their favor. The most importunate of these was Lord Brocas, a very gallant nobleman of high rank, who had served the Prince well both in war and peace. The Prince, accordingly, accepted the commission and went to see the Countess of Kent several times on the suitor’s behalf. The chronicler states that he went very willingly; for which, apart from the commission, there were reasons enough. First, she was his cousin; second, he took notice of her very great beauty and of her gracious manner that pleased him wonderfully well; and third, the time passed agreeably.  

On one occasion, when the Prince was speaking to her of the said gentleman, she answered that she should never marry again. She was moult soubtille et sage and repeated this to the Prince several times. The Prince replied, “Heigh ho! Belle Cousine, in case you do not wise to marry any of my friends, the great beauties, of which you are compact, will be wasted. If you and I were not of common kin, there is no lady under heaven whom I should hold so dear as you.” And the Prince was taken unawares by love for the Countess. And then, like the subtle woman, and skillful in ambush, that she was, the Countess began to cry. Then the Prince tried to comort her; he kissed her very often, and felt great tenderness for her tears, and said to her: “Belle Cousine, I have a message for you from one of the gallant gentlemen of England, and he is besides a very charming man.” The Countess answered, still weeping: “Ah, Sire, for God’s sake forbear to speak of such things to me. I have made up my mind not to marry again; for I have given my heart to the most gallant gentleman under the firmament, and for love of him, I shall have no husband but God, so long as I live. It is impossible that I should marry him. So, for love of him, I wish to shun the company of men. I am resolved never to marry.”  

The Prince was very desirous to know who was the most gallant gentleman in the world, and begged the Countess insistently to tell him who it was. But the Countess the more she saw his eagerness, the more she besought him not to inquire further; and, falling on her knees, said to him: “My very dear Lord, for God’s sake, and for His mother’s, the sweet Virgin, please forbear.” The Prince answered that, if she did not tell him who was the most gallant gentleman in the world, he would be her deadly enemy. Then the Lady said to him: “Very dear and redoubtable Lord, it is you, and for love of you no gentleman shall lie beside me.” The Prince, who was then all on fire with love for her, said: “Lady, I swear to God, that as long as I live, no other woman shall be my wife.” And soon they were betrothed.

A less colorful, and probably less embroidered version of the story is given in the Life of the Black Prince written by Chandos Herald:

The prince, very soon after this [the Treaty of Bretigny in 1360], married a lady of great worth, with whom he had fallen in love, who was beautiful, pleasing and wise. He did not wait long after his marriage before going to Gascony to take possession of his lands. The prince took his wife with him, whom he loved greatly. 

Because the two were closely related, they needed to receive a dispensation from the pope allowing the marriage. They had no trouble obtaining it. The historian Richard Barber writes: “Innocent VI, like all the Avignon popes, favoured the French cause, and the prince’s proposed marriage eliminated an important diplomatic weapon for the English.” The French wanted nothing better than to see Edward III’s son make a politically useless marriage.

But although an alliance with Joan offered no political advantage, the prince never appeared to regret his choice. Seven years later, the romance was still alive, as evidenced by a letter written to Joan after the Battle of Najera. The prince’s salutation reads: “My dearest and truest sweetheart and beloved companion.”

Although sickness and time would harden the prince’s character, making him capable of committing the massacre at Limoges in 1370, we never hear of anything but felicity betwixt him and Joan. Together Edward and Joan had two sons, the youngest of whom would become Richard II of England.

Edward died in 1376 at the age of 45. He had instructed that his body be laid to rest in the crypt of Canterbury Cathedral, in the Chapel of Our Lady with a space nearby for his dear wife. He even had carvings of her face added to the ceiling there. The crypt, however, was not deemed worthy enough, and so his body was moved upstairs to be placed by the shrine of the famous Saint Thomas Becket. Joan lived nine years longer to see the accession of her son to the throne, the rise of the Lollards, and the Peasants’ Revolt. When she died, her body was laid to rest in Lincolnshire beside the tomb of Thomas Holland, her first husband. And so, despite the prince’s dearest wishes, in the end he and his “beloved companion” were separated.

As wife to Edward, the Black Prince, Joan became history’s first English Princess of Wales. But there was more to remember about Joan than just her title. She was, in the words of the chronicler Froissart, “la plus belle de tout le royaume d’Engleterre et la plus amoureuse – the most beautiful woman in all the realm of England, and the most loving.” Or to use Henry Dwight Sedgwick’s translation: “the prettiest girl and greatest coquette in England.”

_____________________

Rosanne E. Lortz is the author of I Serve: A Novel of the Black Prince. Set against the turbulent backdrop of the Hundred Years' War, I Serve chronicles the story of Sir John Potenhale. A young Englishman of lowly birth, Potenhale wins his way to knighthood on the fields of France. He enters the service of Edward, the Black Prince of Wales, and immerses himself in a stormy world of war, politics, and romantic intrigue. Joan of Kent appears as a supporting character in the novel as Sir John Potenhale serves as the go-between to carry secret messages between his master the Black Prince and the lady he is forbidden to love.

You can learn more about Rosanne's books at her Official Author Website where she also blogs about writing, mothering, and things historical.

_____________________

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Barber, Richard. Edward, Prince of Wales and Aquitaine: A Biography of the Black Prince. Great Britain: The Boydell Press, 1978.

_______, trans. and ed. The Life and Campaigns of the Black Prince: from contemporary letters, diaries and chronicles, including Chandos Herald’s Life of the Black Prince. Great Britain: The 

Boydell Press, 1979.

Froissart, Jean. Chronicles. Translated and edited by Geoffrey Brereton. London: Penguin Books, 1978.

Sedgwick, Henry Dwight. The Black Prince. New York: Barnes and Noble Books, 1993.

Phantasmagoria: Getting Your Fright On in Late Georgian England

by J.A. Beard

The lady and her guests have gathered in a sitting room. Only the light of a few candles fights off the choking darkness.

Suddenly a rattling chain and the scratching of unearthly talons echoes through the room. A skeleton appears, then a ghost! The terrified audience holds their hands in front of them in a feeble attempt to shut out the creatures.

The English of the late Georgian era appreciated a good fright just as much as we do. The rise of Gothic literature and related novels of fright provided a giddy thrill for many readers, but reading about a phantom lacks the impact of actually seeing one. Though the people in this era lacked television and movies, they did have their own way of experiencing the visceral thrill of laying their eyes on the macabre and supernatural: the phantasmagoria.

Before we discuss the actual show, we need to discuss the primary tool used for it: the magic lantern. Though historians aren't completely sure, the magic lantern seems to have been invented in either the 15th or 16th century in northern Europe.

The magic lantern is a fairly a simple device. It is basically just has a concave mirror that is placed in front of a light source. The set-up allows the gathering up of light. In the magic lantern, the concentrated light is then passed through a glass slide with an image on it toward a lens. The lens then projects a larger version of the slide image onto another surface. So, what they really had was a simple slide projector. 

In the earliest magic lanterns, candles or a conventional (non-magic as it were) lantern provided the necessary light. As the centuries passed, improved illumination technologies were integrated into the magic lantern to provide for brighter images. Though various types of images were projected when the devices were first introduced, dark images of supernatural creatures were popular from the earliest years. Skilled performers made us of multiple magic lanterns, sound effects, smoke, and other such elements to create a thrilling experience.

The magic lantern had a history on the Continent before its arrival in England. The quick summary version is that during a period of heightened interest in spiritualism and all things dark and supernatural, particularly toward the end of the 18th century, a well-positioned magic lantern could do a lot to convince people that something supernatural was indeed present, especially in a time where people would rarely encounter such technology. By 1801, the phantasmagoria was firmly established in England. At this point, many showmen began to be a bit more honest about the non-supernatural nature of their shows. It's important to note that not everyone believed they were witnessing supernatural goings-on even before the lantern men fully committed to honesty, but there was enough belief in it to occasionally attract the attention of authorities. Coming clean, among other things, also allowed for better integration of other theatrical elements such as live music and guided narration. The displays by this point made use of multiple wheeled projectors. The mobility allowed for the ghosts, devils, and other assorted creatures to move, grow, or shrink during the performance as needed. 

The shows grew in popularity just before and during the Regency period (1811-1820). The Prince Regent, never one to pass up a good time in whatever form, was known to entertain guests and himself with phantasmagoria displays on occasion (along with regular non-horror themed shows as well). 

The magic lantern and phantasmagoria would remain popular through the end of the Georgian era and into the Victorian era.

20th Century Spies

by Lord David Prosser
I am not a novelist by trade. I am a novelist by accident. Some people think I would write a better book about 20th Century's Pies since I am a connoisseur of the finest pork pie England has to offer. ( I cannot yet name the brand since the expected bribe, ahem, gift hasn't materialised). But NO, my composition, which I repeat came about by accident is on one of the 20th Century's most inept Spies if indeed the term spy should be used at all since I term it Envoy.
I was needless to say born. I grew up and was educated to the British Grammar School standard of the time. I became adult, I worked, I married at the appropriate time (when I was told to).

Late in my life I inherited my Title from the recently deceased cousin of my father. My education is sadly lacking as to deciding whether this was my second cousin or first cousin once removed but, removed he certainly is. As a Welshman it was a bit of a shock to inherit an English Manorial Title but it's always pleasant to see things pass in this direction. As usual I digress.

Upon inheriting the Title I decided to retire from work. I cannot say they were happy to see me go, but the ladies were preparing their diet sheets as I left knowing their weekly supply of sweets would be discontinued. I had no sooner left than I was visited by a member of a Government Agency whose name begins MI and is followed by a number. It seems the late father's cousin ( you sort out the appropriate terminology since they are both deceased) was a traveller on behalf of HMG to foreign shores to shall we say 'correct' potentially embarrassing problems. I was also intended to succeed him in that position.

The Official Secrets act allowed me after a period to divulge certain of my adventures and this I chose to do in my book The Queen's Envoy. If you can forgive the inept bungling of one who sought to serve Queen and Country on your behalf, you are invited to read said book.

GIVEAWAY by Lauren Gilbert

Lauren Gilbert is giving away a signed paperback copy of HEYERWOOD: A novel. To see some information about the book, please click HERE

.

The rise of the English landscape garden

by M.M. Bennetts

Throughout the early part of the 17th century, under James I and Charles I, English gardens continued to develop along the lines discussed previously in The Elizabethan Gardening Craze.

But with the onset of the Civil War in 1642 and the subsequent Protectorate under Oliver Cromwell, gardening, such as it had been, ground to a halt for many different reasons. Armies tramping across the countryside, particularly armies of Levellers, aren't good for the preservation of gardens. Taxes were high and remained very high under Cromwell which meant substantially less disposable income.

Also, many of the keen gardeners and plantsmen had been Royalists. And they, like the famed garden writer John Evelyn, chose to spend the decade of Cromwell's rule on the Continent studying gardens, or travelling, often to stay close to Charles II in exile, or further afield, even plant collecting in the Americas.

Which is not to say that Cromwell's period in power didn't have a marked effect on the countryside as a whole. For during the Protectorate, huge swathes of forest, particularly in the Midlands, had been chopped down. As Daniel Defoe wrote of Theobalds, King James's former palace: "...it has suffered several depredations since that, and in particular in the late Time of Usurpation, when it was stript, both of Game and Timber..." And in the place of pleasure gardens, Cromwell and his advisers encouraged, both on moral and economic grounds, the planting of vast orchards.

With the Restoration of Charles II, the idea of a pleasure garden was once again permitted. But now, after their experience on the Continent, the large landowners and fashionable gardeners sought to recreate versions of the most splendid garden of their age: Versailles. And this formal style, full of grand canals, classical statuary, fountains and extensive geometrical beds edged in box, held sway into the early years of the 18th century.

But vast, formal gardens are very expensive to maintain--they are not only labour intensive, they also take up so much land that might be otherwise profitably employed. And it was the garden writer and designer, Stephen Switzer, who suggested a cheaper alternative in his Ichnografia Rustica, published in 1718. He was writing mainly for the owners of villas--successful businessmen mostly--whose smallish estates were near London.

His proposal was that one should open up the countryside so that one might enjoy "the extensive charms of Nature, and the voluminous Tracts of a pleasant County...to retreat, and breathe the sweet and fragrant Air of gardens." He went on to suggest that the garden be "open to all View, to the unbounded Felicities of distant Prospect, and the expansive Volumes of Nature herself."

Switzer examine costs and expenses, he proposed that the designs be more rural and natural and relaxed, that garden walls were an unnecessary expense, etc. In short, Switzer proposed the landscape movement which would transform the gardens of England.

But garden taste--the same as everything else--is never the work of a single individual. There are always many other motives and forces which contribute in some proportion or other to the evolving result. And several other significant influences must be cited here, all of which come into play to a greater or lesser extent over the next century.

The first, perhaps, is the rise in popularity of the Grand Tour. The 18th century was the century when 'taste' mattered, when demonstrating one's qualifications as a gentleman meant being a collector or connoisseur--of books, of art, of music, of gardens. And where did one acquire the polish that gave that aristocratic and classically educated sheen? Italy, of course.

So off troop our young Englishmen of the era, with their tutors, to Italy. Where they study the paintings of Renaissance masters, the glories of classical antiquity in Rome, the elegance of Tuscan gardens, the refinements of Venetian music? Well, yes and no. If one believes the pious letters they wrote home, then yes. If one reads the despairing accounts of their tutors and their Italian hosts, and their letters to each other, then the view leans a little more heavily towards Carnivale, carousing and wenching with their fellow Englishmen. And in their last weeks picking up a few 'souvenirs' in the form of lesser Italian artists--often copies of 17th century Italian landscapes--which yes, do present the soon to be idealised vision of Nature is Art.

Yet Englishmen abroad rarely behave as do Englishmen at home.

So the 18th century Englishmen--without a centralised, all-powerful royal court in which to play politics and power, such was at Versailles--created their own recreational playgrounds.

The play is still about power, prestige and status, but here it's married to a cultivated aesthetic as well as to forestry, farming, economy, and sport--riding, shooting, fishing, hunting--a gentleman's concerns and country pursuits, whether he is a Whig grandee or a gentry landowner of the Tory persuasion.


And the acquisition of land (and more land), with all the rights, privileges and status it conferred, gives these landholders the scope to create these gardens which still hold the visitor rapt. Whether for the nouveaux riches--the titans of commerce such as Henry Hoare who was buying his way into the landowning gentry and created Stourhead--or for the greatest of all Whig aristocrats, like the Duke of Devonshire at Chatsworth, these gardens become a expression of a unified landed class based on 'good taste', political power and economics.

Thus as the eighteenth century progressed, influenced by their experiences of the Grand Tour, by writers such as Pope and Walpole, and by visiting other gardens, England's landed classes began to favour a less formal and more naturalistic approach to landscape design. In developing the uniquely English concept of the landscape garden, William Kent, Lancelot ('Capability') Brown and the other great landscape architects of the period, were responding to a complex assortment of social and aesthetic ideals among their clients.

As well as the integration of forestry, farming and sport into the landscape, the ambition was in many respects to create an almost 'natural' appearance, where trees, water, open grassland and carefully placed structures (bridges, temples and monuments were popular) created a carefully balanced microcosm of the English countryside.

Capability Brown is widely regarded as the most influential figure in eighteenth-century landscape design. Born in Northumberland in 1716, he moved south in 1739 and worked as an assistant to William Kent at Stowe, before embarking on what arguably became the greatest career in the history of landscape design.

Brown was more hands-on than Kent; he would always make a personal visit to a new client's estate, evaluating the constraints and opportunities it presented, before sending an assistant to undertake a detailed survey. His remarkable achievement was his ability to bring common ideals and design principles to bear on the specific topography, geology and prevailing climate of a client's estate. Above all, there is a sense of effortlessness in Brown's designs, a sense that the park and garden have grown organically out of their surroundings, requiring little or no human intervention or management (though the opposite was, of course, the case).

And it is in these respects that the 'new' landscape movement grows out of the mediaeval and Tudor deer park which was the archetypal symbol of status. Even at this late period, venison is still proscribed on the open market; it is still a sign of favour or wealth. The creation of the 'ha ha' in the late 17th century made it possible to have the expansive views--how to wow your guests, who believed, as you did, that "a gentleman should own his view"--without having the deer or cattle coming right up to the Dining Room windows.

It must be said that the concept that a gentleman should own his view, deeply engrained in the psyche of England's landed classes, sometimes led to surprising results. At Wallington in Northumberland, the seat of the Trevelyan family, the main public road passes relatively close to the house, but was sunk to a depth of several feet so that it was invisible from the house!

Likewise, the effortlessness that typefies Brown's landscapes finds a parallel in his architecture, particularly Claremont in Surrey, where his mansion sits atop its hill in splendid isolation, with no visible tradesmen's entrance to spoil the view on any side. (The tradesmen's entrance is in fact through a tunnel, the entrance to which is concealed in a stand of trees to the north-east of the building.)

And to this day, in many people's eyes, these gardens, landscapes and houses still encapsulate all that is quintessentially and timelessly English. They stand as a record of our social history; they record the ideals of landowners, great and small, through a period of quiet yet profound social and economic evolution--each estate its own ensample of Shakespeare's vision of "this scept'red isle".

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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.

Degsastan - a lost battlefield

Ethelfrid, king of the Northumbrians, having vanquished the nations of the Scots, expels them from the territories of the English, [a.d. 603.] At this time, Ethelfrid, a most worthy king, with ambitions of glory, governed the kingdom of the Northumbrians, and ravaged the Britons more than all the great men of the English .... where upon, Aedan, king of the Scots that inhabit Britain, being concerned at his success, came against him with an immense and mighty army, but was beaten by an inferior force, and put to flight ; for almost all his army was slain at a famous place, called Degsastan. In which battle also Theodbald, brother to Ethelfrid, was killed, with almost all the forces he commanded. ... From that time, no king of the Scots durst come into Britain to make war on the English to this day.
From the chronicler Bede.

In the year 603 a very important battle was fought somewhere in the Scottish borders.  It probably brought together several nations and races - Scots, Picts, Romano-British and English in a showdown that determined the future of the region for a hundred years and propelled the Northumbrian Kingdom into a dominance that led to its golden age as recorded by Bede in the 8th century.

It was so well known a location that Bede even says it was a famous place, called Degsastan. Yet today we do not know with any certainty where it may lie. So what do we really know?

Map of Northern Britain c 603.

The nations of Deira, Bernicia, Rheged, Strathclyde, Manau Godddin, Dál-Riata, Mercia and the lands of the Picts  are the players in this drama and came into conflicts and alliances with each other. 

What we have here are the four British races in a sandbox. Coming from the east the English tribes of Anglo -Saxons are expanding their holdings in Northumbria and moving west. They come into conflict first with the Romano-British or Welsh. The Battle of Catraeth - fought around 597 A.D.  between the fledgling English Kingdoms and the Romano-British natives of Rheged (Cumbria), Strathclyde (Dumbarton area) and Manau Goddodin  (around Edinburgh) weakened the British to the extent that Aethelfrith's Bernicians were able to move on into the lands "between the walls" - i.e to threaten that area between Hadrian's Wall and the Antonine Wall.

This seems to have provoked the Scots under Aedann Mac Gabrhrain to become interested in Bernicia.  The Scots are actually an irish tribe from Ulster who in about 500 to 600 settle the west coast of Scotland. They come into conflict with the Picts and the British too. But in c AD 601 a diplomatic mission from the Scots to the Angles appears to have occurred . 

All we know is that the Scots princes Bran and Domanghast died at that meeting or shortly afterwards and that Aethelfrith was held to blame. The Scots response is not immediate however - not in fact for two years. There are references to a plague in the Annals Cambriae about the same time which MIGHT have explained why the Scots took two years to respond to the loss of two princes. Eventually they gather an alliance and march to Degsastan.

The actual location of the battle is not known with certainty. Historians have suggested that it occurred at Dawstone in Liddesdale. But others have criticized this saying the only reason for believing it is Dawstone is because of similar sounding words. Degsastan might come from Degga's stone - perhaps corrupting to Dawstone in time. Equally the has been a lot of discussion about  stones and monoliths - of which there are hundreds in the region including the Lochmaben stone not far away in the Solway Firth and itself a location often used for mustering armies and militia in later centuries.

As a writer of historical fiction a moment comes when you have to decide which way to jump. I was content to go with Dawstone when researching Child of Loki. I have visited this place with my family when writing the novel. It is a remote location and at first glance seems an unlikely place for a great battle. It does, however, have some supporting evidence. Geographically it occupies the watershed where rivers and streams flow away west and east and gives access to routes through the hills of the Scottish borders and Northern Pennines. Thus an army heading for Carlisle might just go that way.

Furthermore, archeological digs on the site in the early 20th century found evidence of iron weaponry and arrowheads in the area. There is even today in the southern valley the outlines of a circular fort, a settlement as well as a shallow ditch cutting across Dawstone Rig (the plateau). The top of the rig is littered with the vague remnants of stone cairns - possibly raised over the bodies of the fallen.

In the very old papers of a local archaeological society there is a record of a rather interesting monument which is now lost. There is a photo - of poor quality - of a black tombstone. It was supposed to be found in the south valley near the remains of old fortifications and a settlement. Could this indeed be the place where Theobald died as recorded by Bede?

The  Battle of Degsastan features in Child of Loki which is the second in my Northern Crown Series which follows the history of the late 6th and early 7th centuries.  Child of Loki has just come out in  paperback and on the Kindle.

http://www.richarddenning.co.uk/childloki.html

Ancient Roman London As Destroyed By Boadicea: Briton's Warrior Queen

A learned antiquary, Thomas Lewin, Esq., has proved, as nearly as such things can be proved, that Julius Cæsar and 8,000 men, who had sailed from Boulogne, landed near Romney Marsh about half-past five o'clock on Sunday the 27th of August, 55 years before the birth of Jesus Christ. Centuries before that very remarkable August day on which the brave standard-bearer of Cæsar's Tenth Legion sprang from his gilt galley into the sea and, eagle in hand, advanced against the javelins of the painted Britons who lined the shore, there is now no doubt London was already existing as a British town of some importance, and known to the fishermen and merchants of the Gauls and Belgians. Strabo, a Greek geographer who flourished in the reign of Augustus, speaks of British merchants as bringing to the Seine and the Rhine shiploads of corn, cattle, iron, hides, slaves, and dogs, and taking back brass, ivory, amber ornaments, and vessels of glass. By these merchants the desirability of such a depôt as London, with its great and always navigable river, could not have been long overlooked.

 
ANCIENT ROMAN PAVEMENT FOUND IN THREADNEEDLE STREET, 1841

In Cæsar's second and longer invasion in the next year (54 B.C.), when his 28 many-oared triremes and 560 transports, &c., in all 800, poured on the same Kentish coast 21,000 legionaries and 2,000 cavalry, there is little doubt that his strong foot left its imprint near that cluster of stockaded huts (more resembling a New Zealand pah than a modern English town) perhaps already called London—Llyn-don, the "town on the lake."

After a battle at Challock Wood, Cæsar and his men crossed the Thames, as is supposed, at Coway Stakes, an ancient ford a little above Walton and below Weybridge. Cassivellaunus, King of Hertfordshire and Middlesex, had just slain in war Immanuent, King of Essex, and had driven out his son Mandubert. The Trinobantes, Mandubert's subjects, joined the Roman spearmen against the 4,000 scythed chariots of Cassivellaunus and the Catyeuchlani. Straight as the flight of an arrow was Cæsar's march upon the capital of Cassivellaunus, a city the barbaric name of which he either forgot or disregarded, but which he merely says was "protected by woods and marshes." This place north of the Thames has usually been thought to be Verulamium (St. Alban's); but it was far more likely London, as the Cassi, whose capital Verulamium was, were among the traitorous tribes who joined Cæsar against their oppressor Cassivellaunus. Moreover, Cæsar's brief description of the spot perfectly applies to Roman London, for ages protected on the north by a vast forest, full of deer and wild boars, and which, even as late as the reign of Henry II, covered a great region, and has now shrunk into the not very wild districts of St. John's Wood and Caen Wood. On the north the town found a natural moat in the broad fens of Moorfields, Finsbury, and Houndsditch, while on the south ran the Fleet and the Old Bourne. Indeed, according to that credulous old enthusiast Stukeley, Cæsar, marching from Staines to London, encamped on the site of Old St. Pancras Church, round which edifice Stukeley found evident traces of a great Prætorian camp.

However, whether Cassivellaunus, the King of Middlesex and Hertfordshire, had his capital at London or St. Alban's, this much at least is certain, that the legionaries carried their eagles swiftly over his stockades of earth and fallen trees, drove off the blue-stained warriors, and swept off the half-wild cattle stored up by the Britons. Shortly after, Cæsar returned to Gaul, having heard while in Britain of the death of his favourite daughter Julia, the wife of Pompey, his great rival. His camp at Richborough or Sandwich was far distant, the dreaded equinoctial gales were at hand, and Gaul, he knew, might at any moment of his absence start into a flame. His inglorious campaign had lasted just four months and a half—his first had been far shorter.

As Cæsar himself wrote to Cicero, our rude island was defended by stupendous rocks, there was not a scrap of the gold that had been reported, and the only prospect of booty was in slaves, from whom there could be expected neither "skill in letters nor in music." In sober truth, all Cæsar had won from the people of Kent and Hertfordshire had been blows and buffets, for there were men in Britain even then. The prowess of the British charioteers became a standing joke in Rome against the soldiers of Cæsar. Horace and Tibullus both speak of the Briton as unconquered. The steel bow the strong Roman hand had for a moment bent, quickly relapsed to its old shape the moment Cæsar, mounting his tall galley, turned his eyes towards Gaul.

 
PART OF OLD LONDON WALL, NEAR FALCON SQUARE

The Mandubert who sought Cæsar's help is by some thought to be the son of the semi-fabulous King Lud (King Brown), the mythical founder of London, and, according to Milton, who, as we have said, follows the old historians, a descendant of Brute of Troy. The successor of the warlike Cassivellaunus had his capital at St. Alban's; his son Cunobelin (Shakespeare's Cymbeline)—a name which seems to glow with perpetual sunshine as we write it—had a palace at Colchester; and the son of Cunobelin was the famed Caradoc, or Caractacus, that hero of the Silures, who struggled bravely for nine long years against the generals of Rome.

Celtic etymologists differ, as etymologists usually do, about the derivation of the name of London. Lon, or Long, meant, they say, either a lake, a wood, a populous place, a plain, or a ship-town. This last conjecture is, however, now the most generally received, as it at once gives the modern pronunciation, to which Llyn-don would never have assimilated. The first British town was indeed a simple Celtic hill fortress, formed first on Tower Hill, and afterwards continued to Cornhill and Ludgate. It was moated on the south by the river, which it controlled; by fens on the north; and on the east by the marshy low ground of Wapping. It was a high, dry, and fortified point of communication between the river and the inland country of Essex and Hertfordshire, a safe sixty miles from the sea, and central as a depôt and meeting-place for the tribes of Kent and Middlesex.

Hitherto the London about which we have been conjecturing has been a mere cloud city. The first mention of real London is by Tacitus, who, writing in the reign of Nero (A.D. 62, more than a century after the landing of Cæsar), in that style of his so full of vigour and so sharp in outline, that it seems fit rather to be engraved on steel than written on perishable paper, says that Londinium, though not, indeed, dignified with the name of colony, was a place highly celebrated for the number of its merchants and the confluence of traffic.

In the year 62 London was probably still without walls, and its inhabitants were not Roman citizens, like those of Verulamium (St. Alban's). When the Britons, roused by the wrongs of the fierce Boadicea (Queen of the Iceni, the people of Norfolk and Suffolk), bore down on London, her back still "bleeding from the Roman rods," she slew in London and Verulamium alone 70,000 citizens and allies of Rome; impaling many beautiful and well-born women, amid revelling sacrifices, in the grove of Andate, the British Goddess of Victory. It is supposed that after this reckless slaughter the tigress and her savage followers burned the cluster of wooden houses that then formed London to the ground. Certain it is, that when deep sections were made for a sewer in Lombard Street in 1786, the lowest stratum consisted of tesselated Roman pavements, their coloured dice laying scattered like flower leaves, and above that of a thick layer of wood ashes, as of the débris of charred wooden buildings. This ruin the Romans avenged by the slaughter of 80,000 Britons in a butchering fight, generally believed to have taken place at King's Cross (otherwise Battle Bridge), after which the fugitive Boadicea, in rage and despair, took poison and perished.

London probably soon sprang, phœnix-like, from the fire, though history leaves it in darkness to enjoy a lull of 200 years.

  BOADICEA.


  While about the shore of Mona those Neronian legionaries
  Burnt and broke the grove and altar of the Druid and Druidess,
  Far in the East Boadicea, standing loftily charioted,
  Mad and maddening all that heard her in her fierce volubility,
  Girt by half the tribes of Britain, near the colony Camulodune,
  Yell'd and shriek'd between her daughters o'er a wild confederacy.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson


 Compiled From Sources In The Public Domain.

See Boadicea, Warrior Queen of the Iceni.

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

FenMaric, one of the main characters in my historic fantasy novel, Shadows In A Timeless Myth, was a member of the ninth legion who fought and died attempting to stop Boudicea.  He still exists to appear in Shadows because he was battle cursed by a Druid Priest to the same fate that the Druid Priests believed themselves fated for, soul transmigration...but with a vengefully, punishing twist!

The origins of April Fools Day

Have you been tricked this day by a prank or joke? Maybe you recall some famous tricks in the past. The BBC once broadcast a documentary of farmers in Italy picking spaghetti from bushes and trees after a bumper harvest. Thousands were tricked. In the USA Taco Bell announced it had purchased the Liberty Bell and renamed it the Taco Liberty Bell.

When though did this tradition start?

The suggestion, recorded in The Country Diary of Garden Lore, is that 1st April was the day that Noah sent a rook out looking for land as the flood waters subsided but where that comes from I cannot find out.

One explanation links it to ancient festivals such as the Roman Hilaria, celebrated at the end of March when people would dress up in disguises. There are theories that this time of year with its variable weather - sometimes cold, sometimes hot tricks men and makes us fools.



A more substantial explanation related to 1582, when France switched from the Julian calendar to the Gregorian calendar. This changed the start of the year from the last week of March/ 1st April as it used to be to January 1. because it took a while for this fact to becomes known and accepted people who celebrated the new year on 1st April were ridiculed. A paper fish called a "poisson d'avril" would be stuck to their backs to show they were fools. This is still part of present day French culture as shown in this satirical image:



In England the celebration came in about 1700 becoming more popular as the century went on. Britain changed calendars in 1752 themselves, which may have encouraged the tradition. The Scots celebrated a two day event (how come they often manage to get two days out of something we English get one day from!) Hunting the gowk day involved sending folk on wild goose chases or false errands, whilst Tailie Day involved pinning tails or notices to peoples backsides.

This morning my father recreated the spaghetti hoax in a picture he emailed me to show my son:


Did you think up any good ones today? Or were you the butt of an April fool?