A Time to Reflect.... on Mirrors

by Mike Rendell

It is interesting that when my ancestor Richard Hall was writing in 1781 it was the old frame which got thrown away, to be replaced with a "New Carv'd Gilt frame" - while the actual mirror or glass was kept. Why? Because mirrors were extremely costly.
Mirrors had of course been around for several thousand years, originally using polished bronze or similar materials. But in the sixteenth century Venetian glassmakers on Murano found a way of coating the back of a sheet of glass with silver mercury.

Rivals stole the method of production and brought it to France, Germany, and particularly England, so that by the 1700s London had a thriving mirror-making industry.







A spectacular mirror in the style of Thomas Chippendale.

 Cheap it was not - and it was also highly dangerous, since mercury is an extremely unstable and dangerous chemical to work with. The process was quite complicated. First you needed a stone table which was completely level (so that mercury would not run off when poured) but the table had to be capable of being tilted gently. Then you needed a completely flat sheet of tin, moulded to give a gulley running all round its four sides( to catch the mercury as it drained).The tin was tied securely to the table. A small amount of mercury would then be spread across the surface and rubbed gently into the surface of the tin (traditionally using a hare's foot).

The next stage was to pour mercury over this prepared surface to a depth of between three and six millimetres. It needed to be as evenly spread as possible. Then came the difficult part - lowering the glass sheet onto the mercury so that it floated. The weight of the glass would force the mercury out to the gulley running round the tin sheet where it could be collected and used again. A blanket would be placed over the glass and weights used to press down the glass. The stone table would then be tilted, and the whole shebang left to dry for three weeks.The critical moment would come when the glass was lifted from the table - apparently even a loud noise could cause the mercury to run off from the back of the glass, with potentially fatal consequences. Death by inhalation of mercury fumes was not uncommon in factories where mirrors were made.

An Italian 'Grotto' mirror from the 18th Century, courtesy of http://www.antiquefurnishings.co.uk/mirrors.htm

Small wonder therefore that a mirror or looking glass was an expensive item, certainly one which it was worthwhile for Richard to spend one pound eleven shillings and sixpence to re-frame (perhaps nearer a hundred pounds in modern terms). The chemical process of coating a glass surface with metallic silver was not discovered until thirty years after Richard's death. The actual inventor is a matter of dispute but one candidate is the German Justus von Liebig who published an article in 1835 remarking that "...when aldehyde is mixed with a silver nitrate solution and heated, a reduction is formed, as a result of which the silver settles itself on the wall of the vessel, forming a superb mirror."
In Richard's time, mercury-backed mirrors came in all shapes and sizes. The woodcarver Grinling Gibbons made intricately carved frames to go with his mirrors, but in the eighteenth century the adornment to the frames was often painted rather than carved. They became part and parcel of the design of the fireplace. Designers such as Robert Adams would produce schemes for fireplaces with a matching mirror and frame above it, sometimes reaching to the ceiling.

Fireplace with overmantel mirror, c. 1750 Image courtesy of the Victoria & Albert Museum




Mirrors designed to go above a fire-place were known as chimney glasses, while those intended to go between two sets of windows were called pier glasses. It became fashionable in the Eighteenth Century to have mirrored sconces - wall fittings to hold a candle but with a mirror at the back to reflect light back into the room. Later in the century cheval glasses came into fashion. According to Encyclopaedia Britannica (http://www.britannica.com/) "The cheval glass was first made toward the end of the 18th century. The glass could be tilted at any angle by means of the swivel screws supporting it, and its height could be adjusted by means of lead counterweights and a horse, or pulley, from which the name was taken. Thomas Sheraton in the 1803 edition of The Cabinet Dictionary, included a design with a nest of drawers at one side and another with a writing surface. When wardrobes were fitted with mirrored doors, the cheval glass became unnecessary in bedrooms".

Meanwhile my great great great great grandfather Richard Hall would have sat at his dressing table in his bedroom, attending to his toilet (or perhaps, as he would have said, his 'twaylit') using this tilting adjustable mirror. It makes you ponder on the transient nature of an image to think it was once his visage which reflected in the looking glass, and now it is mine!



Mike is the author of a book entitled "The Journal of a Georgian Gentleman" based upon the diaires and miscellaneous papers kept by his ancestor in the Eighteenth Century. He also blogs regularly on life in the Georgian era.

Elizabeth & Mary, Rival Queens: A Study of Leadership

by Barbara Kyle

Should we act from the head or from the heart? Deliberation or passion? In fiction, the Dashwood sisters in Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility personify this choice in matters of love. Elinor carefully considers her desires, weighing them against her responsibilities, holding her deepest feelings in check. Marianne scoffs at such reserve and acts boldly on her passions.

When it comes to ruling a country, with stakes infinitely higher, two queens have immortalized this crucial choice. Elizabeth Tudor of England planned her moves with Machiavellian care, keeping her ambitious nobles in line and her kingdom safe from foreign attack. Her peaceful reign spanned over forty years. Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots, followed her desires, making impetuous decisions that enraged her nobles. She ruled for less than seven years, created turmoil and civil war, boldly gambled her kingdom by hazarding all on the battlefield, and lost.

Mary Queen of Scots

Elizabeth I of England

The two women were cousins. Yet they never met. When Mary fled to England to escape the Protestant lords who had deposed her she begged Elizabeth for protection and an army to fight her enemies. Elizabeth, however, needed Protestant Scotland as a bulwark against possible invasion by Catholic France or Spain, and so decided it was prudent to keep Mary in England under house arrest. Mary's captivity continued for nineteen years - a comfortable captivity befitting her status as a queen - during which she plotted ceaselessly to overthrow Elizabeth with the help of Spain and take her crown. Elizabeth waited out those nineteen years and finally, after the last plot almost succeeded, executed Mary.

It's a story that has enthralled the world for over four hundred years, sparking plays, operas, an endless stream of biographies, and several movies. (The latest starred Scarlett Johansson as Mary.) In 1895 one of the first movies ever made was an 18-second-long film of Mary's execution produced by Thomas Edison.

Edison's 1895 film The Execution of Mary Queen of Scots

In Edison's brief film the actress playing Mary lays her head across the executioner's block. He raises his axe. An edit occurs during which the actress is replaced by a mannequin. The mannequin's head is chopped off and the executioner holds it high in the air. It was filmdom's first special effect.

What is it about these two queens that so perennially fascinates us? I think it's that primal divide of head vs heart, of sense vs sensibility. Elizabeth, though passionate, acted with forethought. Mary, though intelligent, acted on her desires.

Francis and Mary

Partly it stemmed from their upbringing. Mary became queen of Scotland just days after her birth. Her French mother, Mary of Guise, ruled in her daughter's name and sent Mary at the age of five to France to join the French king's family in preparation for marriage to his son and heir, Francis. Growing up in the most glittering court in Europe, Mary was pampered and petted and loved by the French royal family. She married Francis when they were both in their teens, and when his father died a year later the young couple became king and queen of France. At age sixteen Mary had reached the pinnacle.

Elizabeth at about age thirteen

Elizabeth's upbringing could not have been more different. Hers was a childhood of uncertainty and fear. Her father, Henry VIII, beheaded her mother, Anne Boleyn, for adultery when Elizabeth was three. He disinherited Elizabeth. Her half-sister Mary came to the throne when Elizabeth was twenty-one and sent her to the Tower where Elizabeth, terrified, fully expected to be executed. But Mary died and Elizabeth, who had never thought she would rule, became queen at the age of twenty-five. In those perilous years she had learned to watch and wait, and never to act rashly.

It was a lesson Mary never learned.

These two queens, raised so differently, had very divergent outlooks on three aspects of monarchy. The first is what we today might call patriotism. Mary, formed by France, was not much interested in Scotland, which she considered an unsophisticated backwater. In 1560 her husband, the young King Francis, died and so did her mother, who had ruled Scotland in Mary's name. Mary was therefore free to return to her homeland and take up her birthright as its reigning queen. Instead, she chose to stay in France where life was pleasant, and spent many months casting about for a new European husband. Finding none to her liking, she grudgingly returned to Scotland.

Mary landing in Scotland

Elizabeth, on the other hand, loved her country and its people with a sincerity in her words and actions that rings to us down the centuries. She was proud of being "mere English" ("mere" in those days meaning "purely"). She enjoyed meeting common people on her journeys through the shires, and bantering with them with a familiarity that shocked the European aristocracy. She said often that her people were her family. Her people loved her in return.

Secondly, nowhere was the head-or-heart divide more apparent than in the choices these women made about marriage. For a queen, marriage was a crucial matter of state. After four years on the Scottish throne Mary fell passionately in love with an English nobleman, Lord Darnley, and despite the vociferous disapproval of her nobles she hastily married him. She even used her power as monarch to name him king.

Mary Queen of Scots and Lord Darnley

This splintered her court into factions - for and against Darnley - a situation that diminished much of Mary's power and led to a simmering civil war. Mary bore a son, James. But the marriage quickly soured when Darnley proved to be an arrogant, charmless wastrel. Mary turned to a tough military man on her council, the Earl of Bothwell, and there was gossip that they were lovers. Seventeen months after marrying the queen, Darnley was murdered. (The house he was sleeping in was blown up.)

James Hepburn, Earl of Bothwell

Bothwell was accused of the murder, tried, and acquitted. Three months later, Mary took him as her third husband. The people suspected her of having colluded with him to murder Darnley. When she rode back into Edinburgh the townsfolk hissed at her and called her "whore."

Elizabeth, famously, never married. She knew the danger if she did: her husband would be considered king, creating warring factions in her realm and eclipsing her power. For two decades foreign princes vied for her hand in marriage, and Elizabeth used them to negotiate alliances, and to disrupt foreign alliances that endangered England. She frustrated her councilors, who constantly urged her to marry to produce an heir. Elizabeth was acutely aware of the succession problem: a monarch who left no heir consigned their realm to likely civil war. And, with no heir of her body, her throne would pass to none other than Mary, her cousin. Elizabeth's decision to stay single was a hard one that brought her considerable personal anguish. She was heard to say, when Mary's son was born, that she envied Mary the baby "while I am barren stock." But she knew her decision was wise.

Thirdly, the head-or-heart divide had its greatest impact in how the two women ruled. The business of governance did not interest Mary. She rarely attended the meetings of her council, and when she did she sat and sewed. She enraged Darnley and her nobles by ignoring them and spending her time with her young Italian secretary, Rizzio.

Elizabeth was what we would call a "hands-on" leader, involving herself in every aspect of governance. Furthermore, on the eve of a possible invasion by the terrifying Spanish Armada she rode out to her troops assembled at Tilbury and inspired them to face the foe, giving an address so stirring that Winston Churchill quoted it to steel England's people to face a possible invasion by the Nazis.

Elizabeth addressing her troops at Tilbury

"Let tyrants fear . . . I have placed my chiefest strength and safeguard in the loyal hearts and good-will of my subjects. And therefore I am come amongst you ... being resolved, in the midst and heat of the battle, to live and die amongst you all." (Elizabeth at Tilbury)

Mary Stuart is to be pitied. She spent nineteen years under house arrest and died a gruesome death, beheaded at Elizabeth's order. But before she reached England it was her incompetence as a ruler in Scotland, her disastrous decisions in leadership, that led to her downfall there. If peace, prosperity, religious tolerance, and increased international respect are the fruits of successful leadership, Elizabeth Tudor remains one of England's greatest rulers.

_________________


Barbara Kyle is the author of the acclaimed "Thornleigh" novels set in Tudor England. Her latest release is The Queen's Gamble. 

She welcomes visitors to her website: www.BarbaraKyle.com   

Dunadd - Fortress of the Scots

by Richard Denning


I was fortunate last month to spend an Easter break in Scotland. I was up in Argyll - a land full of historical connections which along with the getting up there and back meant I passed numerous historical locations.

One place at the very top of my list of "get to" spots was Dunadd - the rocky fortress of the Scots of Dal Riata and I thought I would share some images with you today. 

Scotland gets its very name from the Irish SCOTS. The Scots were originally from Ireland and around the year 500 started to migrate across the narrow gap between Ulster to Argyll (only 12 miles at its narrow point). In Argyll they came into conflict with the Picts who occupies much of mainland Scotland as well as the Romano-British (Welsh speaking peoples of Strathclyde and Manua Goddodin (Edinburgh).

What would follow would be conflict and alliances and swinging fortunes that would eventually lead to ONE nation of Scotland. But that would take centuries. Kenneth MacAplin united the Scots and Picts in 843 but Strathclyde was not included until 1034. 

So when the scots first came from Ireland and started to carve out a land in Argyll around 500 AD the future held only conflict and strife and it was here at Dunadd near Kilmartin that they ruled from.

Dunadd may have originally been a Pict outpost but the Scots made it into a near impregnable fortress. The surrounding area is bog and marsh land along the river Add. Indeed Dunadd is located in a loop of the river. Dunadd itself though is a towering rock that rises high above the plains. Possibly this was once an island. 

Finally we forded yet another river and emerged onto a low-lying plain. The mountains were away to the north and ahead of us a river twinkled in the sunlight as it meandered across a boggy, marshy land. In the centre of the plain was a single, steep-sided hill and perched on the top an imposing fort. We had come at last to Dunadd, the capital and chief fortress of the kings of Dál-Riata.

As we approached the fortress we were under constant observation from the high stone walls that loomed above us. The path slanted uphill and entered the fortress through a rocky defile. This natural, narrow passageway had been turned into a superbly defensible portal. We passed a pair of huge wooden gates, which would have provided a challenge to any attacker, pelted and fired upon as they would be from those walls as they assaulted up though the narrow channel. 

From Child of Loki

The Scots made good use of a natural tiered arrangement of rocks and flat spaces. This meant they already had battlements made for them by nature and natural gateways which the battlements loomed over. To gain access to the King's chambers the traveller would have to pass through no less than four gateways each leading to progressively higher levels. 

Dunadd was not just a fortress. It was an economical and trading hub. To here came wine from the Mediterranean , Tin from Cornwall and rare dies from the Loire in France.  From here flowed precious jewellery.  The outer courtyards would have been full of workshops working gold and bronze. 

“Come with me,” he ordered and led us across the space full of workshops between the outer and inner walls. There was the usual array of blacksmiths and so forth, but we passed more than one hut in which men were smelting gold and silver. I paused at one to take a closer look and saw a smith pouring molten metal into moulds. Another was breaking open the moulds to reveal exquisitely detailed necklaces, almost as beautiful as my mother's had been. These lands might be wild, but their craftsmen were skilled, their kings and lords were wealthy and their coffers full of the spoils of victory. 

At the very top of the fortress is what would once have been a walled enclosure bearing a rock into which were carved a footprint. This footprint motif appears in other location in Scotland and may actually be Pictish in origin. The Scots incorporated it into their kingship rituals. 

The king would place their foot in the print and claim the land; becoming one with it. It would have been a powerful ritual and would have imprinted on those watching from a lower level as the king silhouetted against the sky came forward, that this man was their lord.

Here my daughter demonstrates.

From the lofty heights of Dunadd the kings of Dal Riata could look down on the lands below and easily spot an approaching army which would have had to camp out on the damp land below.

This then was Dunadd from which the mighty kings of the Dal Riata Scots ruled their domains. If you find yourself in Argyll near Kilmartin it is well worth the visit as is Kilmartin Museum itself. 

Dunadd appears in Child of Loki. Find out more here: http://www.richarddenning.co.uk/childloki.html

Giveaway: The September Queen by Gillian Bagwell

Enter to win one of two copies of The September Queen by Gillian Bagwell!

Please read about the book HERE. You will be prompted to return to this post to enter the giveaway. Please be sure to leave your contact information!

Secret Service, Spies, and Underhanded Dealings during the 17th Century

by Katherine Pym 

Per Violet Barbour, author of Henry Bennet, earl of Arlington, (published 1914), “The ministers of Charles II were not chosen for their honesty…” 

King Charles II

This did not make Charles II a stupid man, but one who had gone through years of hardship. His life had often been imperiled.  Men conspired against him, or tried to rule him.  It left its mark.  To watch for underhanded dealings during his reign, he sought out men who would meet toe-to-toe those who threatened the king, and his court. 

On one hand Charles II filled his court with frivolity. He played, danced, and allowed his spaniel dogs to soil the palace. He and his brother, the Duke of York, loved the theatre, and supported their own troupes.  Charles II allowed women on stage.

On the other hand, Charles II inherited a land filled with restless and bitter malcontents whose very existence shattered at the fall of the Commonwealth.  Rarely opening up to anyone, he did not trust easily.  He expected attempts on his life, or efforts to overthrow his monarchy. 

 

John Thurloe

During the Cromwell days, John Thurloe was the head of espionage. As Secretary of State under Cromwell, he sent out spies to cull out plots from within the Protectorate’s government. His spy network was extensive. He employed men – and women – who were, on the surface, stalwart royalists. His spies could be located in every English county, overseas, i.e., in Charles II’s exiled court, in the Americas, and the far Indies.

Samuel Morland

Thurloe compiled lists, sent spies into enemy camps, had men tortured and killed. One such fellow, Samuel Morland, and assistant to Thurloe under Cromwell, confessed to witness a man ‘trepanned to death’ at Thurloe’s word.  (Dictionary.com states the following definition to trepan:  “a tool for cutting shallow holes by removing a core.”)  Not a nice way to go.  

Thurloe orchestrated the Sir Richard Willis Plot, wherein the king and duke would be lured out of exile to the Sussex coast.  Once the brothers disembarked, they would be instantly murdered.  Thankfully, we know this plot failed.  

Commonwealth spies infiltrated homes, churches, and businesses to destroy the royalist enemy, and under Charles II’s, his government did the same.  Their goal was to destroy nonconformists, or “fanaticks”. Depending who was in power, plots were a part of political life. 

After the Restoration, Thurloe was dismissed, but not executed for crimes against the monarchy (Charles I and II). He was let go for exchange of valuable Commonwealth government documents. 

During the king’s exile, Sir Edward Nicholas held the position of Secretary of State, but he was old, nearly age 70. Within two years of the Restoration, Charles II replaced him with Sir Henry Bennet, who took charge of the Crown’s espionage. October 15, 1662, he was appointed Secretary of State.  

Joseph Williamson

Joseph Williamson worked for Bennet as the undersecretary.  Williamson was born for this work. He took the bull by the horns and enhanced the processes Thurloe had begun.  Williamson built a brilliant spy network.  He enlisted informers who, for money, turned on their associates.  He burrowed spies into households, businesses, and churches.  He used grocers, doctors and surgeons, anyone who would inform him of persons against the king. He had men overseas watching for any plots. Informants were everywhere. 

 

His tools were numerous.  He loved ciphers, and cipher keys. Doctor John Wallis was an expert in this who worked under Thurloe and Bennet. The man could crack a code in nothing flat.  Williamson, known as Mr. Lee in the underworld, used London's Grand Letter Office for ciphered messages to pass back and forth between the undersecretary’s office and his informants and spies. He expected to be kept apprised by ciphered letters at the end of each day, passed through the post office. 

Williamson obtained ambassador letters, had them opened and searched for underhanded deceit. He developed a system of local informers. Letters and money crossed palms.  Under Thurloe, the secret service received £800 per year. Under Bennet, the money doubled. Most of the annual budget was spent on spies and keeping them alive. 

For more reading on spies and espionage under the reign of King Charles II, please see Of Carrion Feathers, set in London 1662.

http://www.amazon.com/Katherine-Pym/e/B004GILIAS

What's the French Word For Ulcer, Guerrilla?

Birthed in blood and hounded by war from its very beginning, the French Republic died its first death in 1804 with the ascension of Le Petit Corporal, Napoleon Bonaparte, to the throne as the leader of the First French Empire. As his rise to emperor was strongly related to his military expertise, it’s no surprise that war would continue for France. Bolstered both by his military genius and, often, the incompetence of many (though certainly not all) of his foe nations, Napoleon’s army would steadily advance across Europe.

By 1807, the French Empire controlled the large swaths of Europe both directly or indirectly after victory in the War of the Fourth Coalition against a large number of allied nations. Unfortunately for the would-be ruler of Europe, he lost any effective control of the seas after a large-scale defeat at the hands of English Admiral Horatio Nelson’s fleet at the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805. In addition to halting any attempt at direct French invasion of England, British naval dominance doomed the Continental System, a French attempt to cut off the United Kingdom and their European allies from trade to failure.

Portuguese resistance to the Continental System provided an excuse for the French, with the planned aid of their then Spanish allies (many of the ships lost during the Battle of Trafalgar were Spanish), to take control of Portugal. The French, however, already distrustful of the Spanish government and with their own plans to control Spain more directly, marched troops into the country. Though these troops were sent to allegedly  aid in dealing with the Portuguese, the French soon started taking control of Spanish cities. The divided and dispirited government was further paralyzed by French-backed coups and other attempts to undermine the Spanish government. On May 5, 1808, Napoleon was in a position to directly install his brother, Joseph, as King of Spain.

A few days earlier, on May 2nd, Spanish citizens in Madrid rebelled against the occupying French. The brutal French response, both in Madrid, and in other cities, combined with discontent over the installation of King Joseph, ended any chance the French had of gaining smooth control of Spain. Resistance spread throughout Spain. By August, the British, inspired in particular by Spanish resistance, sent military aid to Spain and Portugal. This Peninsular War (named after the Iberian Peninsula containing Spain and Portugal) would rage until 1814.

Conventional warfare was a large component of the Peninsular War, but perhaps most striking in the context of the greater series of Napoleonic Wars, was it being marked by what is popular to now define as asymmetric warfare, or what is more commonly known as guerrilla warfare (note the word itself means “little war”). Although the guerrilla actions of the Peninsular War are certainly not the first example of guerrilla warfare in history, the sheer scale of the activity and its success against the preeminent conventional nation-state military power of the day provided an example for others in following centuries, and, of course, the Spanish word came into English to describe the style of warfare.

These guerrillas eschewed field battles. Instead they concentrated on hit-and-run and surprise attacks. They could kill the enemy or raid for supplies then fall back into mountainous terrain where the French regulars would not only have difficulty following but also difficulty fighting them with conventional tactics.

Although the French committed more than a few atrocities during their time in Portugal and Spain, it should be noted that the Spanish guerrillas didn’t confine their efforts to military targets. People deemed too pro-French would often pay with their lives. As one might expect, the guerrilla forces were not particularly organized and did not always operate under tight central authority or control. In addition, as is also common throughout the history of warfare, many men of ill repute viewed guerrilla warfare as an opportunity to satisfy their criminal or violent urges under the false flag of patriotism. If a group of guerrillas came to a village and “liberated” excess supplies or hurt someone, it wasn’t as if innocent civilians could just file a grievance with the government. With the French taking their own brutal invaders’ liberties with the countryside and also often doubling-down on their efforts due to irregular activity, it was not a pleasant time to be a civilian.

Though guerrilla warfare was a major contribution to the eventual victory over the French in the Peninsular War, it was not, in of itself a sufficient factor. Definitive conventional victories were still required. That being said, the guerrillas made life hell for the French regular forces. Reprisal and control attempts only further enflamed the populace. The irregular forces ambushed forces, disrupted supply lines, assassinated officers, seized messengers and otherwise thoroughly undermined the French forces. Beside the direct causalities inflicted, guerrilla activities prevented large chunks of French forces from being employed at full strength in either Spain or Portugal. Instead, many French troops had to be distributed to try and respond to these constant irregular attacks. Thus, the guerrilla efforts acted as an effective force multiplier for the anti-French Allies and also played a key role in delaying the French invasion timetable. Among other things, this also allowed the British time to bring sufficient resources into the war effort.

While Napoleon had made statements that the French would be able to conquer Spain and Portugal with only a minor expenditure in troops and effort, as the Peninsular War dragged out, the French emperor recognized the war instead as his “Spanish ulcer”.

Mary Delany, Artist and Personality

by Lauren Gilbert





Born Mary Granville on 5/14/1700 in Wiltshire, England, Mary was the daughter of a Tory aristocratic family who were supporters of the Stuart crown.  From the age of eight, she lived with her aunt and uncle, Lord and Lady Stanley, who were close to the court.  Lady Stanley had hopes of Mary’s becoming a Maid of Honor, and educated her accordingly.  Lady Stanley brought Mary into close contact with court circles.  Unfortunately, the death of Queen Anne in 1714 ended those hopes with the introduction of the Hanoverian line with King George I.   

     Skilled, in painting, needlework, and other crafts, and an ardent music lover (she became acquainted with Handel through Lady Stanley), Mary was an accomplished young woman when she went to live with her uncle Lord Landsdowne at Longleat.  She was described by Edmund Burke as “a woman of fashion for all the ages.”  Lord Landsdowne was an intimate friend of Pope and Swift.   Because of her parents’ financial straits, and Lord Landsdowne’s political aspirations, at the age of seventeen, Mary was forced to marry Alexander Pendarves, who was 60 years old and a member of Parliament.  Mr. and Mrs. Pendarves moved to London in 1721, where she was able to renew her friendships at court and in society.  Unfortunately, the marriage, which had not been good to start with, deteriorated as Mr. Pendarves became a heavy drinker and very jealous of attention paid to his young wife.  He died in 1724, leaving Mary a young widow.  He left her only a few hundred pounds per year on which to leave, and no home of her own.





    Mary’s  widowhood actually brought her a greater freedom of movement than she could have had as either an unmarried or a married woman.  She was able to socialize, attend concerts, and basically please herself.  She lived with her aunt, Lady Stanley, again, as well as with other friends, particularly Margaret Bentinck, Duchess of Portland.  She travelled to Ireland, where she became acquainted with Dr. Patric Delany, an Anglican pastor.  She hoped for an appointment to the royal household, which did not come to pass, but became an close and loyal friend of the royal family.  She was unsatisfied with choices available to women; she was against marriage as a necessity, and felt that marriage should be a matter of choice only.  She engaged in a massive correspondence writing about her interests.    She also had a relationship with Lord Baltimore, which ended in 1730, after she came to feel he was trifling with her affections.



Mary Granville Delany, by John Opie 1782



     In 1743, Mary married Dr. Delany, whose wife had died, and lived with him for the next 25 years in Dublin, where her focus was on gardening and her botanical interests, shell art, needlework, gilding and many other crafts, and she continued her voluminous correspondence.  Sadly, Mr. Delany died in 1768.  She lost interest in her other pastimes.  In 1771, she combined her interest in botany and crafts by creating what she called “paper mosaicks”.  These were extremely intricate, detailed and botanically accurate pictures of plants and flowers, made of tiny pieces of paper cut and pasted in layers.    

     In these later years of her life, Mary had a house near Queen’s Lodge at Windsor, given to her by King George III and Queen Charlotte who also visited her there, and spent at least half the year with the Duchess of Portland. Her eyesight failed in 1782, and she died in 1788.  She left ten albums of her mosaics, HORTUS SICCUS,  which ultimately went to the British Museum in 1897.  Although she was a woman of parts, noted for her botanical knowledge and artistic abilities in many areas, her wit and her charm, ultimately it is her paper mosaics which have kept her fame alive.

Bibliography

Paston, George.  MRS. DELANY (MARY GRANVILLE) A Memoir.  London: Grant Richards, 1900.  Via Internet Archive  http://archive.org/details/mrsdelanymarygra00past  (e-book).

British Museum website.  Mary Delany(British; Female; 1700-1788).  http://www.britishmuseum.org/research/search_the_collection_database/term_details.aspx?bioId=127351

NEW YORK TIMES Magazine Blog. Port, Andy.  “NOW  SHOWING/Mary Delany A Force of Nature.” 9/29/2009. http://tmagazine.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/09/29/now-showing-mary-delany-a-force-of-nature/

The Peak of Chic Blog.  Mary Delany and Her Paper Mosaicks.  Posted 9/4/2008.  http://thepeakofchic.blogspot.com/2008/09/mary-delany-and-her-paper-mosaicks.html

Venetian Red Blog.  Cariati, Christine.  Flora Delanica: Art and Botany in Mrs. Delany’s “paper mosaicks.” Posted 12/4/2009.   http://venetianred.net/2009/12/04/flora-delanica-art-and-botany-in-mrs-delanys-paper-mosaicks/

Wikipedia.  Mary Delany.   http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Delany 

Women and the Garden Blog.  Mary Granville Pendarves Delany 1700-1788.  Posted by Patty (last name unknown) 4/2011    http://womenandthegarden.blogspot.com/2011/04/mary-granville-pendarves-delany-1700.html?utm_source=BP_recent  

By Lauren Gilbert, author of HEYERWOOD: A Novel.  Visit http://www.heyerwood.com/!

The Elusive History of the Order of the Garter

By Rosanne E. Lortz

“Honi soit qui mal y pense – Shamed be the one who thinks evil of it.” So reads the motto of the famous Order of the Garter, a society of knights established by Edward III, the English king who began the Hundred Years’ War with France. But what does the motto refer to and why did Edward choose it? That question is just one of the many surrounding the foundation of the Garter Order.

According to historian Elizabeth Hallam, the inspiration for chivalric orders like the Order of the Garter came from “the imagination of a 12th-century Norman churchman, Wace, who added the story of the Round Table to Geoffrey of Monmouth’s fictional history of King Arthur.” The stories of the Knights of the Round Table spread far and wide as other writers took Wace’s idea and elaborated on it. “During the 13th century knights in tournaments adopted the roles and fictional coats of arms of Arthur and his knights. ‘Round Tables’ were set up at many English tournaments,” and this playacting eventually “led to knights forming more regular tourneying brotherhoods: the golf clubs of their age.”

Henry of Grosmont, Duke of Lancaster,
2nd Member of the Order dressed in
Garter robes

Edward III, who was fond of holding these “Round Table” tournaments, eventually moved to create an official society that would mimic King Arthur’s legendary brotherhood of knights. The Order of the Garter was founded in 1344 (if we are to believe Jean Froissart), in 1350 (if we are to believe Geoffrey le Baker), or in 1348 (if we piece together some of the expenditures in the Royal Exchequer). This discrepancy in sources may seem amusing at first, until you realize that the date of establishment is only one of many knots historians must untangle as they weave together a history of the Order.

Froissart, a contemporary of King Edward’s, gives us this glimpse of the establishment:

At that time King Edward of England conceived the idea of altering and rebuilding the great castle of Windsor, originally built by King Arthur, and where had first been established the noble Round Table, from which so many fine men and brave knights had gone forth and performed great deeds throughout the world. King Edward’s intention was to found an order of knights, made up of himself and his sons and the bravest and noblest in England. There would be forty of them in all and they would be called the Knights of the Blue Garter and their feast was to be held every year at Windsor on St George’s Day. To institute the feast, the King called together the earls, barons and knights of the whole country and told them of his intentions and of his great desire to see them carried out. They agreed with him wholeheartedly, because they thought it an honourable undertaking and one which would strengthen the bonds of friendship among them. Forty knights were then chosen from among the most gallant of them all and these swore a solemn oath to the King always to observe the feast and the statutes, as these were agreed and drawn up. 

Henry VIII surrounded by the Garter Knights

Geoffrey le Baker, also a contemporary chronicler, gives his own description of the establishment of the Order and highlights the importance of the garter in their knightly regalia: “All these men, together with the king, were dressed in robes of russet and wore garters of dark blue on their right legs. The robes of the order were completed by a blue mantle, embroidered with the arms of St George.”

Nowadays, the garter is associated almost exclusively with women’s lingerie. How did it come to be the symbol of a chivalric order for an English king and his knights? Here we find yet another confusing tile in the mosaic of the Order’s history.

One legend, written down by Polydore Vergil in 1534, gives this romantic rationale:

[P]opular tradition nowadays declares that Edward at some time picked up from the ground a garter from the stocking of his queen or mistress, which had become unloosed by some chance, and had fallen. As some of the knights began to laugh and jeer on seeing this, he is reputed to have said that in a very little while the same garter would be held by them in the highest honour. And not long after, he is said to have founded this order and given it the title by which he showed those knights who had laughed at him how to judge his actions. Such is popular tradition. 

The romantic elements of the story continued to grow over time. By the end of the sixteenth century, Joan of Kent, the Countess of Salisbury (she who would later marry the Black Prince), had become the celebrated beauty whose garter fell to the floor while dancing with the king. And the chivalrous Edward responded to his jeering courtiers with the same words which he would make the motto of the Order: “Honi soit qui mal y pense – Shamed be the one who thinks evil of it.”

How much stock should be put in this story is difficult to say. Some historians partially accept it, but state that the woman referred to was actually Joan of Kent’s mother-in-law (another Countess of Salisbury for whom King Edward was reputed to have a violent passion). Others discount the story altogether as a tale too fantastical and too anachronistic. Richard Barber, a historian of the latter school, writes:

The word ‘garter’ is extremely rare, and indeed only appears once before the foundation of the Order…here it is applied to an item of apparel worn by fashionable squires to keep up their hose…. I have found only one piece of evidence of ladies wearing garters before the fifteenth century: in 1389, the prostitutes of Toulouse were to wear a badge of a garter by royal decree – once again, there is a suggestion of political mockery and propaganda [i.e. the French making fun of Edward III and his already-established Order]. 

After arguing that the garter was not commonly worn by women during the fourteenth century, Barber goes on to say that the garter of this time period was a much different item of dress than we would think of as a garter today.

The form of the garter, as shown in the earliest known representation, is also unusual: it is a miniature belt, with buckle and perforated tongue, hardly a purely practical item of clothing. Later garters were usually a strip of cloth or silk, tied in a knot. I would tentatively suggest that the design is connected with the knight’s belt, one of the insignia used in the ceremony of knighthood. 

Those who accept Barber’s opinion, that the symbol of the Garter was a masculine one, a piece of equipment typically worn by knights, must still find an explanation for the Order’s motto: “Honi soit qui mal y pense – Shamed be the one who thinks evil of it.” If the episode of a lady dropping her garter never occurred, then what motivated Edward to choose this phrase?

Philip IV

A plausible answer to this question can be found in Edward III’s claim to the French throne. In 1328, the last son of the French king Philip IV died, leaving no male heir. Edward III of England, as the son of Philip IV’s daughter Isabella, considered himself next in line for the French crown. The French, however, had already chosen Philip VI, nephew to Philip IV and grandson to Philip III, to be their ruler.

The laws of inheritance during this time period varied by country and were hotly disputed within France itself, but suffice it to say that there were more quibbles with Edward’s claim than the fact that he was English. In 1337, he invaded France in an attempt to take the French crown by force and began the conflict now known as the Hundred Years’ War. The Order of the Garter, whether it was founded in 1344, 1348, or 1350, came onto the scene during the first phase of this war, and all of its founding members were English nobility who would take part in the fight against France. Its motto, “Shamed be the one who thinks evil of it,” could very well be a gauntlet thrown at those naysayers who denied Edward’s claim to the crown.

Although the real events surrounding the founding of this Order may never be totally proved, it is indisputably acknowledged that the Order of the Garter is the most famous and longest lasting society of chivalry in the world. On April 23, 2008, Prince William was appointed the one thousandth member of the group. The video below shows the procession of the Garter Knights on the day Prince William was inducted into the Order. Some of the vestments have changed to accommodate the more modern clothing of our own time, but one can still see the blue mantle described by Geoffrey le Baker. And if you look closely at the circular badge attached to that mantle, you will see that enigmatic motto still in use: “Honi soit qui mal y pense – Shamed be the one who thinks evil of it.”

_____________________

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. The Order of the Garter makes an appearance in the book as the Black Prince is invested by his father as the first member of the society.

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.

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

Hallam, Elizabeth, ed. Chronicles of the Age of Chivalry. London: Salamander Books, Ltd., 2002.

Edward 2nd Duke of York - part two

As the 1390s progressed, Edward of York gradually acquired more offices and more gifts of land, and despite his relative youth was clearly one of Richard II's most favoured advisers, being chosen to represent the King on a number of key diplomatic missions abroad, including those to negotiate Richard's marriage to the (very) young French princess Isabella of Valois. He accompanied the King on the successful military expedition to Ireland in 1394, and enjoyed an independent command during operations against Richard's Irish enemies.

Edward was one of those selected to 'appeal' the Duke of Gloucester and the earls of Warwick and Arundel in the Parliament of 1397 - in other words publicly to accuse them of treason. This process led to the deaths of Gloucester (uncle to the King and to Edward) and Arundel, and the imprisonment of Warwick. All their lands and offices were forfeited and Edward received a handsome share of the proceeds. Not least of his rewards was to be made Lord High Constable of England in succession to Gloucester. He was also created Duke of Aumale.

Gloucester seems to have been murdered (or privately executed if you prefer) at Calais, and it was later alleged that Edward sent one of his squires across the Channel to see to it that the deed was done.

A few months later, Edward's cousin, Henry Bolingbroke, the son and heir of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, accused Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk of treasonable words. Both these men had sided against Richard in 1387-1388 and with him in 1397, and it seems likely that despite fresh honours (dukedoms) laid upon them they were both worried that Richard might at some point take revenge against them for their earlier actions. Edward was one of those who stood surety for his cousin, Bolingbroke.

Since the quarrel could not be resolved by normal legal processes, because of a lack of witnesses, it was eventually referred for trial by mortal combat. Edward, in his role as Lord High Constable, presided over the trial, but as is well known, the King decided to stop it before it came to blows, and instead banished both men.

Before this event Edward had made what was (for a man in his position) a most unusual marriage. Given that he was at the peak of his political power, and had lately been suggested as a husband for another very young French princess, the most likely explanation for his choice is that he fell in love. His bride, Philippa Mohun, was at least ten years his senior and already been widowed twice. She had only a life-interest in modest dower lands and no history of successful child-bearing. As it happens, she was destined not to give Edward children either. The matter of children apart, some may see a congruence with the decision of Edward's great-nephew, Edward IV, to marry Elizabeth Woodville.
When John of Gaunt died in 1399, Richard decided to extend the term of Henry Bolingbroke's exile to life, and took the Lancastrian inheritance into his hands. Although many nobles, including Edward and his father, received custody of elements of the Lancastrian estates, there is no evidence that Richard intended the confiscation to be permanent. He continued to send his exiled cousin handsome sums of cash for his maintenance, apparently unaware that Henry (currently based in France) was planning to invade England.

On the other hand, Ian Mortimer, in The Fears of Henry IV, sets out the theory that Richard II intended to exclude the Mortimers and the Lancastrians from the succession, and appoint Edward of York as his heir. There is some evidence to support this, quite apart from the strange fact that Richard referred to Edward in his grants as 'the King's brother' and not, as was correct, 'the King's kinsman.)

Anyway, such was the King's confidence in his security that he now undertook a second expedition to Ireland. Edward of York, having been given certain tasks on the Scottish March, was late to join this expedition, and it has been suggested (particularly in the French chronicles) that he was already plotting against the King. This seems unlikely.

Edward's father, Edmund of Langley, Duke of York, was left in charge as Keeper of England, and when Henry landed in Yorkshire, Langley's attempts at resistance were feeble. It is true that many of the nobility, and perhaps even York himself, sympathised with Henry and were reluctant to fight him. York's forces eventually capitulated at Berkeley Castle, in Gloucestershire, with scarcely a blow struck. (The Bishop of Norwich, Henry Despenser, was among those who did fight, but they had no chance against the formidable force Henry had gathered.)

Meanwhile, Richard had landed in Wales. He made no urgent effort to advance, and seems to have waited for news. When it reached him, it was to the effect that York had gone over to his rebellious cousin. The King seems to have been struck by panic and misled by rumours of plotting. He abandoned his army and made his way to North Wales at the head of a small, picked band of followers. Edward was one of those left behind, doubtless because of his father's surrender.

Edward promptly made his way eastward and submitted to Henry in his turn. As a result, when King Richard was eventually run to earth at Flint Castle, he was in the victorious Henry's company. Nevertheless, he immediately lost several of his most important offices, including that of Lord Constable, and it must have been clear to him that he did not enjoy Henry's trust. Nevertheless, during the next few months he and Henry were to save each other's lives.

(Part Three to follow)

Old English Crime and Punishment: Death By Pyre...A More seemly Death For Women?

Death By Pyre was a frequent method of punishment in the barbarous days of many nations. In Britain it was used by the Anglo-Saxons as the penalty of certain crimes, and, as the standard punishment of witchcraft, it was maintained throughout the Middle Ages. The laws of Athelstan, (the first king of a unified England, 927 A.D) brutally decreed that a female slave convicted of theft was to be burned alive by eighty other female slaves. In addition, being burnt at the stake was from early times the recognized method of dealing with heretics of all classes and many different religions.

What is perhaps lesser known is the fact that death by fire was commonly used to punish women for civil offenses...as a more seemly death than hanging, since they did not need to be displayed naked as they would if drawn and quartered. This practice was considered by the framers of the law as a commutation of the sentence of hanging, and a concession made to the sex of the offenders.

"For as the decency due to the sex," says Blackstone, "forbids the exposing and publicly mangling their bodies, their sentence is, to be drawn to the gallows, and there to be burnt alive;" and he adds: "the humanity of the English nation has authorised, by a tacit consent, an almost general mitigation of such part of these judgments as savours of torture and cruelty, a sledge or hurdle being usually allowed to such traitors as are condemned to be drawn, and there being very few instances (and those accidental and by negligence) of any persons being disemboweled or burnt till previously deprived of sensation by strangling."

The annals of King's Lynn tells us that, in the year 1515, a woman was burnt in the market-place for the murder of her husband. Twenty years later, a Dutchman was burnt for reputed heresy. In the same town, in 1590, Margaret Read was burnt for witchcraft. Eight years later, a woman was executed for witchcraft, and in the year 1616, another woman suffered death for the same crime. In 1791, at King's Lynn, the landlady of a public-house was murdered by a man let into the house at the dead of night by a servant girl. The man was hanged for committing the crime, and the girl was burnt at the stake for assisting the murderer to enter the dwelling.

On 25 May 1537, Lady Ann Bulmer was convicted of high treason and burned at the stake by Henry VIII for her role in Bigod's Rebellion.

 In 1681, under English Colonial law, a slave named Maria tried to kill her owner by setting his house on fire. She was convicted of arson and burned at the stake at Roxbury, Massachusetts, and following suspected slave revolt plots in 1708, one woman was burnt alive in New York.

There is an account of a burning at Lincoln, in 1722. Eleanor Elsom was condemned to death for the murder of her husband, and was ordered to be burnt at the stake. She was clothed in a cloth, "made like a shift," saturated with tar, and her limbs were also smeared with the same inflammable substance, while a tarred bonnet had been placed on her head. She was brought out of the prison barefoot, and, being put on a hurdle, was drawn on a sledge to the place of execution near the gallows. Upon arrival, some time was passed in prayer, after which the executioner placed her on a tar barrel, a height of three feet, against the stake. A rope ran through a pulley in the stake, and was placed around her neck, she herself fixing it with her hands. Three irons also held her body to the stake, and the rope being pulled tight, the tar barrel was taken aside and the fire lighted. The details in the "Lincoln Date Book" state that she was probably quite dead before the fire reached her, as the executioner pulled upon the rope several times whilst the irons were being fixed. The body was seen amid the flames for nearly half-an-hour, though, through the dryness of the wood and the quantity of tar, the fire was exceedingly fierce.

An instance in which the negligence of the executioner caused death to be unnecessarily prolonged is found in the case of Catherine Hayes, who was executed at Tyburn, November 3rd, 1726, for the murder of her husband. She was being strangled in the accustomed manner, but the fire scorching the hands of the executioner, he relaxed the rope before she had become unconscious, and in spite of the efforts at once made to hasten combustion, she suffered for a considerable time the greatest agonies.

Two paragraphs, dealing with such cases, are in the London Magazine for July, 1735, and are as follow: "At the assizes, at Northampton, Mary Fawson was condemned to be burnt for poisoning her husband, and Elizabeth Wilson to be hanged for picking a farmer's pocket of thirty shillings."

"Among the persons capitally convicted at the assizes, at Chelmsford, are Herbert Hayns, one of Gregory's gang, who is to be hung in chains, and a woman, for poisoning her husband, is to be burnt."

In the next number of the same magazine, the first-mentioned criminal is again spoken of: "Mrs. Fawson was burnt at Northampton for poisoning her husband. Her behaviour in prison was with the utmost signs of contrition. She would not, to satisfy people's curiosity, be unveiled to anyone. She confessed the justice of her sentence, and died with great composure of mind." And also: "Margaret Onion was burnt at a stake at Chelmsford, for poisoning her husband. She was a poor, ignorant creature, and confessed the fact."

We obtain from Mr. John Glyde, jun., particulars of another case of burning for husband murder (styled petty treason). In April, 1763, Margery Beddingfield, and a farm servant, named Richard Ringe, her paramour, had murdered John Beddingfield, of Sternfield. The latter criminal was the actual murderer, his wife being considered an accomplice. He was condemned to be hanged and she burnt, at the same time and place, and her sentence was that she should "be taken from hence to the place from whence you came, and thence to the place of execution, on Saturday next, where you are to be burnt until you be dead: and the Lord have mercy on your soul." Accordingly, on the day appointed, she was taken to Rushmere Heath, near Ipswich, and there strangled and burnt.

Coining was, until a late period, an offense which met with capital punishment. In May, 1777, a girl of little more than fourteen years of age had, at her master's command, concealed a number of whitewashed farthings to represent shillings, for which she was found guilty of treason, and sentenced to be burnt. Her master was already hanged, and the fagots but awaiting the application of the match to blaze in fury around her, when Lord Weymouth, who happened to be passing that way, humanely interfered. Said a writer in the Quarterly Review, "a mere accident saved the nation from this crime and this national disgrace."

In Harrison's Derby and Nottingham Journal, for September 23rd, 1779, is an account of two persons who were several days previously tried and convicted for high treason, the indictment being for coining shillings in Cold Bath Field, and for coining shillings in Nag's Head Yard, Bishopsgate Street. The culprit in the latter case was a man named John Fields, and in the former a woman called Isabella Condon. They were sentenced to be drawn on a hurdle to the place of execution, the man to be hanged and the woman burnt.

Phœbe Harris, in 1786, was burnt in front of Newgate. The Chelmsford Chronicle of June 23rd, 1786, gives an account of her execution. After furnishing particulars of six men being hanged for various crimes, the report says:

"About a quarter of an hour after the platform had dropped, the female convicted" (Phœbe Harris, convicted of counterfeiting the coin called shillings) "was led by two officers of justice from Newgate to a stake fixed in the ground about midway between the scaffold and the pump. The stake was about eleven feet high, and, near the top of it was inserted a curved piece of iron, to which the end of the halter was tied. The prisoner stood on a low stool, which, after the ordinary had prayed with her a short time, being taken away, she was suspended by the neck (her feet being scarcely more than twelve or fourteen inches from the pavement). Soon after the signs of life had ceased, two cartloads of fagots were placed round her and set on fire; the flames presently burning the halter, the convict fell a few inches, and was then sustained by an iron chain passed over her chest and affixed to the stake. Some scattered remains of the body were perceptible in the fire at half-past ten o'clock. The fire had not completely burnt out at twelve o'clock."

The last instance on record is that of Christian Murphy, alias Bowman, who was burnt on March 18th, 1789, for coining.

The barbarous laws which permitted such repugnant exhibitions were repealed by the 30th George III., cap. 48, which provided that, after the 5th of June, 1790, women were to suffer hanging, as in the case of men.

English Queens, Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard, (wives two and five of Henry VIII) were both condemned to burn at the stake,  however their sentences were commuted to beheading.  His sixth wife, Lady Catherine Parr was also to be condemned to the tower with the same intention, however she avoided her fate by soothing his temper along with his ulcerated leg. Lady Jane Grey was also condemned to burn at the stake for attempting to usurp her cousin Mary's throne, she however, was beheaded despite the fact that her cousin later became known as "Bloody Mary" for burning so many protestants at the stake during her five year reign. In Thomas Mallory's Le Morte d' Arthur, Queen Guinevere was also sentenced to burn at the stake, but was literally rescued at the last moment by Sir Lancelot, thus presaging the beginning of the end for the glory of Camelot.


One of the more dramatic scenes in my historical fantasy, Shadows In A Timeless Myth, concerns a ritual burning at the stake (auto-de-fé) of thirteen victims, and rescue attempt during the time of the Spanish Inquisition.

 Compiled From Sources In The Public Domain.

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