Jane Austen as Elizabeth Bennet: A Circumscribed Life

by Kaelyn Caldwell

Although it doesn’t appear that the spirited and sometimes outspoken Elizabeth Bennet had much in common with her creator, Jane Austen, a seemingly private and unassuming authoress, this Pride and Prejudice duo did share a circumscribed 19th century existence, which befitted the writer … and benefitted her most-admired heroine.

Against a backdrop of day-in, day-out domesticity, Elizabeth Bennet made the most of what was at hand: her home and her garden, her family and friends, her neighborhood ramblings and her close-by vacations. Elizabeth Bennet’s world is narrow, but her appreciation runs deep.

It is without the distractions of a large and busy arena that Elizabeth is able to develop a rich reservoir of personhood. As a result, she is neither shallow nor provincial; Elizabeth is a country girl who – because she’s adept at interpreting a limited landscape – has a complex understanding of her seemingly simple world. When viewed in this context, Elizabeth Bennet and Jane Austen seem to have everything in common.

In addition, Elizabeth’s ability to observe “something new … forever” makes the circumscribed storyline of Pride and Prejudice an expanding experience for Austen’s audience. In Pride and Prejudice – and with Elizabeth Bennet leading the way – Jane Austen shows us that the way we perceive our world becomes our world, inspiring us all to define the scope of our existence for ourselves.

Ironically, it is along these same lines that Austen is sometimes criticized for setting Pride and Prejudice against a backdrop of pastoral peace when England was engaged in a lengthy war with France. Although there cannot be two opinions on the fact of war, there can be two opinions on why Austen chose to ignore it, beyond the usual reason given: that Austen was writing a “light, and bright, and sparkling” romance, and there was no place for war in a Pride and Prejudice so conceived. (Steering clear of current events also ensured a timelessness in Austen’s manuscript which was a couple of decades in the making).

Today’s reader can also look at it another way. Writing was not Jane Austen’s career; writing was her hobby, and as such, it was done for the author’s amusement and for the entertainment of those around her. That Austen wasn’t interested in devoting her off-hours to a discussion of war is completely consistent with a hobby pursued for pleasure.

Jane Austen’s real job – just like Elizabeth Bennet’s – was being a gentleman’s daughter, and as a gentleman’s daughter, Austen’s world was inherently insular (news tended to travel slowly). In our information age, it may be hard to imagine a life so out of touch, but Austen was not focused on the world “out there”; Jane Austen – and by extension, Elizabeth Bennet – was focused on the world at hand. This meant that the news of the day didn’t define the day; instead, Elizabeth awoke each morning to interpret her world for herself.

Although Elizabeth Bennet’s lifestyle may seem a world away from our own, the fact remains that most of us live on a relatively small stage, and few of us have lives any more noteworthy than Elizabeth’s own. Yet Elizabeth remained focused on the life she did have. Without an ever-present outside world to dwarf her own, Elizabeth could give her life the time and thoughtful attention it deserved … and that may have made all the difference for her and for the woman who created her.

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

Excerpted from How to Speak Like Jane Austen and Live Like Elizabeth Bennet, A Pride and Prejudice Primer: Your Guide to Livelier Language and a Lovelier Lifestyle. Author Kaelyn Caldwell can be reached at www.austenandbennet.com.

Religious Scholar, Gospeller, Martyr and Feminist Change Agent, Anne Askew

by Beth von Staats

______________________________

"Then they asked of my lady of Suffolk, my lady of Sussex, my lady of Hertford, my lady Denny, and my lady Fitzwilliams. I said, if I should pronounce anything against them, that I would not be able to prove it." 

~~~~ Anne Askew, 1546 ~~~~

______________________________

When I was a child in the 1960's, a woman close to our family married, but chose to keep her maiden name. Later, she left her husband, divorcing the man and leaving her children with him. Why was she so selfish? Well, this feminist had a passion. She set off for a career, placing her dreams to change the world before traditional motherhood. She had to do it. If not her, then who? My God, that woman was a radical. When she was arrested for protesting the Vietnam War, and then when she was arrested a second time and a third time and yet a fourth time for doing the very same thing, we all thought her unpatriotic, a traitor, a second "Jane Fonda".

Just what kind of woman was she? And just what other "bra burning" women and radical hippies was she in cahoots with? As I grew to an adult, with opinions based on my own thoughts rather than those of my parents, I came to admire this woman for her passion, her courage, her willingness to take risks in her attempt to make the world a better place, at least from her own perspective.

With those childhood memories in the back of my mind, I am truly in awe of those strong women in 16th century England, who within the constraints of medieval expectations, were leaders and change agents. Catalina de Aragón reigned in her husband's absence, leading a battle that brought Scotland to it's knees, King James IV killed, along with most of Scotland's nobility. Anne Boleyn held King Henry VIII's attention, keeping his advances at bay for seven long years, ultimately wearing the crown. Her influence on the Henrican Reformation may be overstated, but is noteworthy nonetheless. Queen Mary I led a successful coup d'état, becoming England's first female reigning monarch. Queen Elizabeth I reigned over an empire, becoming one of World History's most acclaimed and revered government leaders.

Beyond queenship though, was it possible for women to lead and influence the thoughts and beliefs of others? Could women forge their own lives, without male influence, outside of royalty or cloistered communities? Could any woman keep her own name upon marriage or divorce a man if unhappy? Could women truly be change agents? Obviously, these notions were completely unthinkable. Women were subservient to men. No person, man or woman, could question the established order. In an age of supreme monarchy and cruel torture, deprivation and execution methods, who beyond the insane would even try?

Anne Askew, a well educated daughter of a wealthy gentleman and knight once in King Henry VIII's service, and in one of the oddities of history, a juror in Queen Anne Boleyn's treason trial, was a devout Protestant forced into a marriage with a Roman Catholic named Thomas Kyme, a man once promised to her dead sister. The marriage was a complete and utter disaster.

In 1543, King Henry VIII, in concert with his conservative faction, changed his view on just who in the realm could read the Bible. By Parliamentary Law it became illegal for any women or man below the rank of gentleman from reading God's Word. This dramatic shift in acceptable theology practice did not deter Askew. Though two children were born of the marriage, she is said to have been studying the Bible with like minded Protestants when her husband kicked her out of the home for her disobedience to him, heresy and treason.

Anne Askew, retaining her given name despite her marital status, moved in with her brother and pursued a divorce based on her scriptural interpretation that Christians need not be "yoked to non-believers". Unsuccessful in her attempts, Askew moved to London. Taking the unlikely leadership role of a pious woman with a mission, Anne Askew became a "gospeller", more commonly known today as a preacher. Through her intelligence and scholarship, Askew set out to share her Protestantism with those not permitted access to the Bible themselves through scripture committed to memory. Askew also continued to pursue her desire for divorce.

Upon arriving in London, Askew connected with Protestant friends who introduced her to several people close to Archbishop Thomas Cranmer, who by this time was absent from court, retreating to Kent. Cranmer's absence from London clearly signaled King's Henry's change in stance, which became increasingly more traditionalist since the establishment of the Six Articles and the fall of Thomas Cromwell, Earl of Essex. Through Askew's connections, she came to know and associate with Bishop Hugh Latimer, Dr. Nicholas Shaxton, Dr. Edward Crome most certainly, and perhaps, though unproven, more clandestinely with known Protestant sympathizers Catherine Brandon, Duchess of Suffolk, Anne Stanhope, then Countess of Hertford, and other ladies close to Queen Catherine Parr.

Anne Askew as Portrayed by Emma Stansfield

Anne Askew became increasingly popular throughout London for her abundant scriptural knowledge, her charismatic "gospelling", and her ability to reach out to people of all classes and persuasions. Thus, she gained attention not only from admirers, but also those committed to King Henry's changed theological stance.

By 1545, traditionalists with Roman Catholic leanings including Bishops Stephen Gardiner and Edmund Bonner, Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk, and Lord Chancellor Thomas Wriothesley were actively gunning for people of high authority within King Henry VIII's inner circle, including Queen Catherine Parr and Archbishop Thomas Cranmer. Together they developed a strategy to bring Parr and perhaps even Cranmer down by first focusing their attentions to more minor evangelicals with the intention those targeted would implicate others with more power closer to the King. Within this context, Anne Askew became tangled in a web, caught in the midst of a power struggle between the conservative traditionalist faction and reformers.

In 1545, Anne Askew was arrested and interviewed by Christopher Dale, under mayor of London, and then later Bishop Edmund Bonner and other religious conservatives. The charges of her heresy laid within her Protestant opinions of the sacrament of the Holy Eucharist, which Roman Catholics view as celebration of the Eucharist liturgy, the bread and wine which after the consecration are "transubstantiated" into the body and blood of Jesus Christ. Any disbelief of the Eucharist liturgy was considered gross heresy, punishable without recantation by burning.

On June 13, 1545, Anne Askew was arraigned for violation of the "Act of Sacramentaries", but no witnesses appeared to testify against her, so she was released. A few months later, Anne Askew's petition to divorce was denied, and she was ordered to return to her husband. In some accounts, she is said to have been forced back to her husband, soon after escaping and returning to London. In others, she flat out refused to go altogether. In either case, Askew's stance on the court order was highly disobedient and provocative, giving ammunition to her detractors.

Bishop Stephen Gardiner summoned Anne Askew under the guise of ordering she return to her husband. Upon questioning of her husband, Askew refused to answer. Gardiner then turned his attention to her religious views. Askew honestly and pointedly denied the existence of "transubstatiation", and in doing so sealed her fate. On June 18, 1546, Anne Askew was arraigned at Guildhall, along with Dr. Nicholas Shaxton and two others. They all confessed and were convicted of heresy, condemned to die at the stake. Although the others recanted the next day, Anne Askew held firm to her convictions. Before burning Askew, however, the traditionalist conservative faction was eager to know who her "like-minded" supporters were, and they suspected, perhaps correctly, that those close to her included Queen Catherine Parr, along with the Queen's high ranking friends and ladies-in-waiting.

In the most grotesque of cruelty even condemnable for the era, Anne Askew became the first and only woman tortured in the Tower of London. On June 19, 1546, she was imprisoned in the Tower. Askew was aggressively interrogated by Bishop Stephen Gardiner, Lord Chancellor Thomas Wriothesley and Sir William Paget for two long days. Continually threatened with execution, Askew refused steadfastly to name other Protestants or recant her beliefs. Unsuccessful in securing the damning information they sought from her, most importantly an admission that she was associated with Queen Catherine Parr, the order was given to exercise torture. Askew was brought to a lower torture room in the White Tower and was shown the rack. Still refusing to name other Protestants and recant her beliefs, she was unmercifully racked by Lord Chancellor Thomas Wriothesley and Solicitor General Richard Rich.

Sir John Gage, Constable of the Tower and witness to much torture in the context of his job responsibilities, was appalled by the torture of a woman. He refused to participate beyond one turn of the handle, and left for court to find King Henry VIII to secure command that Wriothesley and Rich discontinue. By the time Sir Gage was able to meet with the King and secure his command, Wriothesley and Rich had turned the handles so hard after Askew's continued refusals to name other Protestants that she was drawn apart, her arms and legs ripped out of their sockets and her elbows and knees dislocated. By some reports, even after she was returned to her cell, Wriothesley continued questioning Askew hours thereafter, as she lay on the floor writhing in pain. Still, Anne Askew held firm to her convictions, refusing to recant or name other Protestants.

On July 16, 1546, the 26 year old uncommon commoner Anne Askew, who maintained her maiden name despite convention, who sought her freedom from a loveless marriage through attempting to obtain a divorce, who provocatively "gospelled" scripture to people prevented from reading the Bible by Parliamentary Law, who refused to return to her "husband" after court order, and who refused to recant her beliefs or name other Protestants to protect them from harm's way, was burnt at the stake. Unable to move her body in any way and obviously still in excruciating pain, she was brought to and tied to the stake in a wooden chair. Still defiant, Anne Askew refused a last chance at recantation and chimed in her disagreement to points made ironically by Dr. Nicolas Saxton in his sermon before the fags were lit.

Though burned alive as a heretic, Anne Askew through her courage, conviction and martyrdom became one of English history's most cherished national heroes and earliest feminist change agents.

SOURCES:

Claire Ridgway, Anne Askew Sentenced to Death, The Anne Boleyn Files (www.theanneboleynfiles.com)

James Gairdner, Anne Askew 1521-1546, Luminarium: Encyclopedia Project (www.luminarium.org)

Wikipedia, Anne Askew

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Beth von Staats is a short story historical fiction writer and administrator of 

Queen Anne Boleyn Historical Writers.

 REVELATION: Tudor Era Short Stories by Beth von Staats

                                               

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Marocco - the Horse Accused of Witchcraft

by Grace Elliot

Marocco  performing with William Banks

In the 16^th century there was a performing horse whose tricks were so clever that he was accused of witchcraft. The horse, Marocco, could count money, bow and courtesy, pick out different colours and even ‘Tell a maid from a maulkin’ [tell a virgin from a married woman] in the audience. Part of the horse’s appeal was his cheek as his trainer, William Banks, ordered Marocco to find him a chaste virgin and then a harlot from the crowd – indeed, the horse could even urinate on request!

Marocco’s story is also Banks’, for the latter started out as a groom in the Earl of Essex’s stables, and discovering he had a talent for horse training Banks sold everything, bought Marocco, and took him to London. The story goes that Banks had Marocco shod in silver, and his daring enterprise soon paid off as the horse quickly became a success. Some of the other tricks Banks taught Marocco was to dance on two or four legs, return a glove to a specific member of the crowd, bow to the Queen of England but not the King of Spain (England’s deadliest enemy), count the value of a coin with his hoof, and even play dead so effectively that members of the audience burst into tears.

Banks became a wealthy man but it’s possible the act was too good. When he went on tour, audiences in Shrewsbury and Oxford muttered about witchcraft, forcing Banks to return to London. In his absence London had changed, and novelty animal acts such as camels and elephants had moved in on his territory. In a publicity stunt Banks struck back by leading Marocco up the 1,000 step spiral staircase to the original (pre-fire of London) St. Paul's Cathedral to dance on the roof. Amazed, crowds stood in the street below staring up to see the horse “on top of Powles.”

'Old' Saint Pauls - destroyed during the Great Fire of London

In the search for new audiences Banks and Marocco travelled to France. The horse amazed audiences by picking out individuals based on the colour of their clothes – this was too much for the French and both horse and master were arrested on a charge of sorcery.

Under the threat of being burnt alive, Banks managed to convince the authorities of their innocence by asking Marocco to kiss a crucifix. After this, their accusers declared that the horse was inspired by the Holy Spirit and freed them both. Banks returned to England, and it is not known if Marocco was retired or died in harness. Mentions of the pair stop around 1606, and Banks never trained another horse but used the money accrued during his showman days to open a tavern.

So, was it truly witchcraft or how did Marocco learn his tricks?

After Banks retired and set up an inn, he agreed to share his secret with an early hippologist, Mr. Markham, as a testament to the intelligence of his horse. Markham devoted a chapter of his 1607 book Cavelaire to Banks and:

“an explanation of the excellence of a horses understanding and how to teach them to doe trickes like Bankes.”

It transpired that Banks bought Marocco as a foal, and from that day allowed no one else but him to exercise, feed, fuss or groom the colt. He treated the animal with great kindness at all times, and soon the horse started following his master like a dog. During training lessons, if Marocco performed well, he was rewarded with his favourite bread. If he did badly he was given no food that day in order to sharpen his attention on the following day.

Using this system of rewards Banks taught the horse to raise a foreleg on the command “Up!” and by raising and lowering a rod indicated how many times he was to strike his hoof.

‘Giving him a bit of bread til he be so perfit that, as you lift up your rod, so he will moved his foot to the ground.”

After Marocco's success other animal acts were
to follow.

Then Marocco learnt to do without the rod, becoming alert as soon as the word ‘Up!’ was mentioned.  Banks then used facial expressions to tell Marocco how often to stamp his foot.

“it is a rule in the nature of horses, that they have an especial regard to the eye, face and countenance of their keepers.”

Once this trick was perfected it was an easy step to ask the horse to tell him how many knaves or harlots were in the audience that day.

For tricks such as returning a glove to a member of the audience, Banks first taught Marocco to retrieve like a dog. Then he pointed his rod to an assistant and rewarded the horse for going to him instead. If he approached the wrong assistant Banks said “Be wise!” and once he chose correctly “So, boy!”  Eventually Marocco became so skilled he could do without the verbal commands and be guided solely by Banks’ face. As Markham, who had seen the act numerous times, remarked:

“Marocco never removed his eyes from his master’s face.”

No records exist of how Marocco ended his days but his story was the inspiration behind Sultan, the performing horse in my latest release, The Ringmaster’s Daughter.

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

Grace Elliot leads a double life as a veterinarian by day and author of historical romance by night. She lives near London and is housekeeping staff to five cats, two teenage boys, one husband and a bearded dragon.

You can find out more about Grace and her books by visiting Fall in Love with History.

The Pilgrimage

~ Scott Higginbotham

The ideal of the medieval pilgrimage is nothing new, for it is a spiritual and physical journey that has deeper roots.  The physical site itself may be the object of veneration, because it may be where a saint was martyred or where certain relics are contained.  What better place to go than the very spot where history was made by way of a martyr’s death?
 
Along those same lines, there may have been reports that the site is a hub of spiritual blessings or the miraculous, thus drawing the throngs.  Or, the act may be the fulfillment of penance or perhaps a vow made to secure divine favor. 

There were perceptions that spiritual blessings would only be conferred within a set of physical boundaries, which hearkens back to the gods being localized – think of river gods having power only in a certain area.  “For pilgrimages properly so called are made to the places where the gods or heroes were born or wrought some great action or died, or to the shrines where the deity had already signified it to be his pleasure to work wonders. Once theophanies are localized, pilgrimages necessarily follow.” [1]   

Whatever the motivations, pilgrimages and wandering hermits were popular, so much so, that they appeared in the works of medieval writers. William Langland writes in the Prologue to Piers Plowman:

In a summer season when the sun was mild
I clad myself in clothes as I'd become a sheep;
In the habit of a hermit unholy of works,
Walked wide in this world, watching for wonders.

An early English balled from Sir Isumbras gives readers a unique insight into the difficulties faced by wayfaring pilgrims, having nothing in their purse and having to beg for their food:

For they bare with hem nothynge
That longed to here spendynge,
   Nother golde nor fee,
But for to begge here mete
Where they myghte ony gete,
   For love of seynt charyté. [2]


Geoffrey Chaucer popularized and parodied the ideal of a pilgrimage in The Canterbury Tales and, it is through him that many have become familiar with pilgrimages.  The shrine of Canterbury was England’s most popular pilgrimage site, owing to Thomas Becket’s martyrdom in the northwest transept on December 29th, 1170.  Reports of healing miracles brought throngs of pilgrims, happy to share the contents of their purses. This surge in income allowed for many upgrades and improvements to the cathedral, but only to have Henry VIII enter the scene and confiscate its treasures.

Canterbury Cathedral - Public Domain from Wikimedia Commons

But is it only just the physical destination that draws pilgrims of old and even modern ones?  Or is it the physical act, the journey itself, which has the appeal?  Perhaps both?  Imagine the mystique and adventure of packing a few belongings, tying up loose ends, and grabbing a wooden staff for a long trek of self-discovery.  Spiritual journeys such as these are oftentimes turning points for real and imagined characters. 

Henry II was stricken with anguish over his ill-spoken words that resulted in Becket’s death - so much so that he made his own pilgrimage to the shrine and did his best to set affairs aright.  Simon de Montfort made a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and was overcome with emotion at his first view of Jerusalem’s sandstone walls.  These notables are what make the study of history and historical novels such a gem to read, for their deepest desires for redemption make them so much like us.

I made my own pilgrimage and received a Pilgrim’s Certificate at the conclusion of a tour of Jerusalem and Bethlehem.  I wore no floppy hat, nor held a weathered wooden staff in my hand; in fact, I was clean shaven in a military fashion.  But the moment I saw those same walls that countless others have gazed upon, I had the distinct sense that the raw emotion and overwhelming sense of belonging to some small part of history, as a result of pilgrimage, would never be forgotten.  History, historical novels, and even pilgrimages allow us travel to another time and place, but they also allow us to bring something back.

Jerusalem from the Garden of Gethsemane - by Scott Higginbotham

A Soul’s Ransom

Scott Higginbotham writes under the name Scott Howard and is the author of A Soul’s Ransom, a novel set in the fourteenth century where William de Courtenay’s mettle is tested, weighed, and refined, and For a Thousand Generations where Edward Leaver navigates a world where his purpose is defined with an eye to the future.  His new release, A Matter of Honor, is a direct sequel to For a Thousand Generations.  It is within Edward Leaver's well-worn boots that Scott travels the muddy tracks of medieval England.

The Regency; an Age between Ages

By Philippa Jane Keyworth

Flanked between the French Revolution and the Industrial Revolution, the British Regency can be so easily eclipsed. It becomes an Age between Ages, a mere stepping-stone to brighter and better things. To be quite frank, I think this is a very sad thing, not least because this is one of my favourite periods (who can say no to all those dashingly dressed Regency bucks?), but because of its essentiality to British history.

In fact, remark upon the period to almost anyone and you will get the vague reply that Jane Austen inhabited those times. That is what that Age between Ages is remembered for, nothing more. Should one be happy with that? Was she not a brilliant social commentator creating some of Britain’s best-loved literary works? Yes, but that hardly does justice to the nine short years that Prinny presided over England as just that: a Prince Regent.

So, what else has it to offer apart from its literary merits? Perhaps we can assign some art? Reynolds, he was a fine painter, at least now we can call it an Age for the Arts?

Can it not be so much more? Those short nine years, where Britain balanced between the development and progress of the eighteenth century and the industrial explosion that would define the later nineteenth century? When looking at it on its own, it seems a mere blip on the historical radar, so what two things can one pull out as large historical factors worth remembering that Age between Ages for?

Firstly, the continuation of the monarchy.

Secondly, the cessation of the Napoleonic wars.

The first might seem bizarre to some, but to those familiar with the period, the verbal attacks launched at the Prince Regent are both vicious and unceasing. He was fat, he was gluttonous, he did not even lead his men into battle, he was hated, and he was useless. All these vices and faults are thrown mercilessly at his door, and they are not unwarranted, but what we must remember when viewing the Regency is the continuation of the monarchy.

America, in 1775, had revolted against its colonial parents to form a nation of its own without aristocracy or monarchy. France had erupted into revolution in 1789, affecting many surrounding countries and beheading the French King and Queen, not to mention some 40,000 other aristos. What better time for England, whose fat, useless Prince was universally hated, to rise up and depose the 52-inch waist-lined man? Well, none other really. Why not jump upon the revolutionary bandwagon, why not do what they had done before, what the French had just done, and cut off his greedy head?

One could argue the constitutionalisation of the British monarchy from 1688 meant that the monarch had less power so why would the people care? The Prince Regent did not have the power to subject his people to his every whim as the medieval monarchs had done. However, one could also argue that the hatred, shown through the caricatures and unflattering descriptions of the Prince, would be enough to throw him off that Regent’s chair and get rid of his mad-old father who had become useless in his dotage.

However, the Regency showed resilience in the British people through their desire to continue the monarchy. For this, the Age between Ages at least deserves the name, the Regency.

Equally as important was the halting of the Napoleonic wars. Before World War I, the Napoleonic wars held the highest number of casualties and was one of the most notable wars for its encompassing so many of the European countries.

The British troops and the allies, headed by Wellington, halted the tirade of destruction and tyranny that had been launched across Europe. Without the channel for protection it is almost too much to imagine what would have happened to our tiny isle. However, as that channel has done countless times before in British history, it protected Britain from Napoleon’s invading forces and we eventually managed to harry him back, exile him and occupy Paris.

It is easy in the present day to belittle the Napoleonic Wars’ importance along with the importance of their cessation. When looked at in perspective it is a magnificent feat that the British and their allies managed to win against the emperor. For that great event, perhaps the Age between Ages deserves the name the British Regency.

The British Regency really was as dynamic as those ages that stand around it. It cannot be belittled until it is nothing more than the origin of some fine BBC period dramas. Not that I don’t enjoy those lovely period dramas…I do, but it is also good to see that the Regency is more than just them. Those nine years between 1811-1820 can no longer be overlooked. They were the years that saw Britain define itself as a proud monarchical country and a force to be reckoned with. It was an age when its people sat on the mountain of progress viewing the future ahead with undiluted enthusiasm.

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

Philippa Jane Keyworth, known to her friends as Pip, has been writing since she was twelve in every notebook she could find. Whilst she dabbles in a variety of genres, it was the encouragement of a friend to watch a film adaptation of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice that would start the beginning of her love affair with the British Regency. Her debut novel, The Widow's Redeemer (Madison Street Publishing, 2012), is a traditional Regency romance bringing to life the romance between a young widow with an indomitable spirit and a wealthy viscount with an unsavory reputation.

The Widow's Redeemer @ Amazon UK

The Widow's Redeemer @ Amazon USA

Literary Greats: Write On, Homeopathy!

by Dana Ullman

The primary principle of homeopathy, called the law or principle of similars (“treating like with like”), is actually an ancient understanding that great thinkers and healers have acknowledged and utilized since early written history.... Hippocrates, the father of medicine and an early medical historian, once asserted, “Through the like, disease is produced, and through the application of the like it is cured.”

Even Shakespeare wrote about treating “like with like” in his famed play Romeo and Juliet (Act I, scene ii), when Benvolio gives comfort and advice to lovesick Romeo, saying:

"Tut, man, one fire burns out another’s burning;
One pain is lessened by another’s anguish,
Turn giddy and be holp by backward turning;
One desperate grief cures with another’s languish.
Take thou some new infection to the eye,
And the rank poison of the old will die."

The eminent British poet, John Milton (1608–1674), made direct reference to the concept of the treatment of “similars” in the preface to Samson Agonistes (1671): “Things of melancholic hue and quality are used against melancholy, sour against sour, salt to remove salt humors.”

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832) is considered one of the greatest Western literary figures of all time. A German poet, novelist, playwright, courtier, and natural philosopher, Goethe was a contemporary of homeopathy’s founder, Samuel Hahnemann, MD (1755–1843), and they both were Freemasons. When Goethe was given an amulet containing a very small gold ornament (September 2, 1820), he wrote: “The jewelers of Frankfort must have heard of the Leipsig Dr. Hahnemann’s theory—now, certainly a world-famous physician— … and taken the best of it from their own purposes … now I believe more than ever in this wonderful doctor’s theory as I have experienced … and continue to experience so clearly the efficacy of a very small administration.” And in another letter he strongly proclaimed himself a “Hahnemannian disciple” (Haehl, 1922, I, 113).

Goethe not only espoused the virtues of homeopathy in his letters to friends and colleagues, but even in his most famous play, Faust, in which his lead character, Mephistopheles, asserts the homeopathic credo, making specific reference to the homeopathic principle of similars: “To like things like, whatever one may ail; there’s certain help.”

Goethe was also a close friend with Karl Wesselhoeft, the owner of a large German publishing company of literary works, and Goethe was a frequent visitor in the Wesselhoeft home. Wesselhoeft’s son, William, became Goethe’s protégé. As a result of Goethe’s influence and due to later correspondence with German doctors who had become homeopaths, the younger Wesselhoeft became a serious student and then practitioner and teacher of homeopathy in America....

George Bernard Shaw (1856–1950) was one of England’s most respected playwrights. Shaw is the only person ever to have won both a Nobel Prize (Literature in 1925) and an Academy Award (Best Screenplay for Pygmalion in 1938). In his play The Doctor’s Dilemma (1906), Shaw showed the dilemma that doctors inevitably face between their need to care for their patients and their need to practice, often using dangerous drugs and performing unnecessary operations in order to earn a livelihood.

In the play’s preface, Shaw wrote:

"The test to which all methods of treatment are finally brought is whether they are lucrative to doctors or not. It would be difficult to cite any proposition less obnoxious to science than that advanced by Hahnemann, to wit, that drugs which in large doses produced certain symptoms, counteract them in very small doses, just as in modern practice it is found that a sufficiently small inoculation with typhoid rallies our powers to resist the disease instead of prostrating us with it. But Hahnemann and his followers were frantically persecuted for a century by generations of apothecary-doctors whose incomes depended on the quantity of drugs they could induce their patients to swallow. These two cases of ordinary vaccination and homeopathy are typical of all the rest."

He continued: “Here we have the explanation of the savage rancor that so amazes people who imagine that the controversy concerning vaccination is a scientific one. It has really nothing to do with science. Under such circumstances vaccination would be defended desperately were it twice as dirty, dangerous and unscientific in method as it really is.”

Thankfully, Shaw goes on to assert that times and things are changing, “Nowadays, however, the more cultivated folk are beginning to be so suspicious of drugs, and the incorrigibly superstitious people so profusely supplied with patent medicines that homeopathy has become a way of rehabilitating the trade of prescription compounding, and is consequently coming into professional credit.”

In 1932 Shaw wrote an essay, Doctors’ Delusions, Crude Criminology and Sham Education, which included a story about the homeopathic treatment he received for a hydrocele. This accumulation of fluid around the testicle normally requires surgery, but Shaw experienced a rapid cure without recurrence.

Shaw once challenged Sir Almroth Wright, a noted conventional physician, to look into homeopathy’s ability to cure many “incurable” diseases. Wright expressed complete incredulity, while Shaw retorted that Wright had no scientific attitude or simple curiosity. This short conversation was a classic:

Almroth said, “This thing is absurd and impossible; let me put it this way. Would you, Shaw, trouble to get out of your chair if I called from the next room. ‘Do come in here and see what I have done—I have turned a pint of tea leaves into pure gold.’”

Shaw responded back simply saying, “Certainly I would.” (Coulter, 1994, 409).

A writer that one might predict to have had an interest in homeopathy would be Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (1859–1930), author of the Sherlock Holmes detective stories. The Scottish Doyle popularized the field of crime fiction and put Scotland Yard on the map. He was a prolific writer who also wrote science fiction, historical novels, plays, romances, poetry, and nonfiction.

In many ways, being a good homeopath is a lot like being Sherlock Holmes. A good homeopath obtains an enormous amount of detail about the totality of a sick person’s symptoms. A good homeopath probes and probes and probes, asking open-ended questions that lead patients to describe what they are experiencing in their own words. A good homeopath is open to hearing things he or she does not expect, and makes the best use of unusual symptoms that the sick person describes. Sherlock Holmes was also known to assert: “That which is out of the common is usually a guide rather than a hindrance.” And again: “That which seemingly confuses the case is the very thing that furnishes the clue to its solution.” Both of these statements are an integral part of homeopathic casetaking and case analysis. Homeopaths usually conduct a conventional diagnosis, but they then always seek to find the symptoms that are unusual for the diagnosis, and these unique symptoms are vital in selecting the medicine for the patient.

There is an intriguing reference in Doyle’s Lost World (1912). Many people are familiar with this novel because several movies were made of it (including a pioneering 1925 silent film with stop-motion special effects of the dinosaurs done by the same wizard who later created the special effects for the original King Kong). It is one of Doyle’s Professor Challenger stories. Challenger was a zoological “Indiana Jones-type” with a reputation for beating up reporters whose interviews were anathema to him. In Lost World, the narrator is a reporter who bravely decides to interview the violent professor, and a physician friend of this reporter advises him to take along a new remedy that is reported to be “better than arnica” for dealing with the injuries he is sure to suffer from the encounter (Chapter 3). But then, the narrator of the story asserts, “Some people have such extraordinary notions of humor” (as though there could ever be something better than arnica).

Arnica is one of homeopathy’s most well-known remedies for shock of injury, for sprains and strains, and for certain pre- and post-surgical problems.[ii]

Of additional interest is the fact that Doyle originally trained as a medical doctor, but his frustration, bitterness, and even cynicism is well expressed in his great Holmes adventure, “The Adventure of the Resident Patient,” a story in The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes (1894). Ultimately, we must all feel quite blessed that Doyle was not so appreciative of homeopathic medicine that he practiced it rather than writing his stories....

Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892) was poet laureate of the United Kingdom and is one of the most popular English poets of all time. Tennyson was one of many highly respected individuals to frequent the spa of Dr. James Gully, who was known to provide cold water treatments and homeopathic medicines. When Tennyson was in his late thirties, he suffered from petit mal seizures and a nervous breakdown supposedly due to thwarted romantic hopes, the death of a close friend, and financial anxieties. He first sought care at a spa under the direction of Dr. Edward Johnson, and there is record of him going to two other spas. He was so despondent and ill that friends despaired for his life (Martin, 1980, 278). However, shortly after he went to the spa and homeopathic clinic operated by Dr. Gully, he experienced noticeable benefits. In fact, although Tennyson was not yet fully cured, after Gully’s treatment, he no longer wrote to friends that he was suffering from “hypochondria” as he had done so many times previously. Even Tennyson’s mother saw the difference and referred to Dr. Gully as “a very clever man” (Martin, 1980, 315). Five years later Tennyson brought his new wife for care from Dr. Gully (Oppenheim, 1991, 136). Tennyson lived a long and fruitful life.

Other patients of Dr. Gully included: George Eliot (the pseudonym for British novelist Mary Ann Evans, 1819–1880, who not surprisingly was a friend of another major homeopathic advocate, Henry James), Edward Bulwer-Lytton (British novelist, playwright, and politician, 1803–1873), Florence Nightingale (leader in the worldwide nursing movement, 1820–1910), Bishop Samuel Wilberforce (highly respected clergyman, 1805–1873), Charles Dickens (author, 1817–1870), Thomas Carlyle (essayist and historian, 1795–1881), and Charles Darwin (British naturalist, 1809–1882)....

Dr. Frederick Hervey Foster Quin, the first British physician to practice homeopathy in England and the first homeopath to British royalty, was also the homeopath to many of the British elite, including literary greats Charles Dickens (author of Oliver Twist, A Christmas Carol, David Copperfield, Great Expectations, and many others) and William Makepeace Thackeray (author of Vanity Fair, among many others, 1811–1863).

One of Charles Dickens’s short novels, published posthumously, that mentioned homeopathy was The Mudfog Papers (1880). The story takes place in the mythic town of Mudfog, and like other Dickens works is full of odd and interesting characters. In this book, Dickens relates the story of a surgeon named Pipkin who tells about a short and interesting communication from Sir William Courtenay, a self-proclaimed messiah whose real name is Thom and who is an ardent believer in homeopathic medicine. He even believes that homeopathic medicines can raise the dead if prescribed immediately upon passing. This gentleman had a premonition that he would drown, and therefore employed a woman to follow him everywhere he went with a pail of water, with the instructions to place one drop of a homeopathic dose of lead and gunpowder under his tongue after death to restore him. Sadly, however, the peasant woman did not understand his instructions, and Dickens concludes, “the unfortunate gentleman had been sacrificed to the ignorance of the peasantry.”

The Irish poet W. B. Yeats (1865–1939) was a known appreciator of both homeopathic medicine and Swedenborgian thought.

The discussion of European authors with an appreciation for homeopathy would not be complete without mentioning Dame Ivy Compton-Burnett DBE (1884–1969), the English novelist whose writings were published as I. Compton-Burnett. Reviewers of her books assert that she is a direct descendant of Joyce, Kafka, and Woolf, and several of her books are New York Review Classics and still in print. She authored twenty books, including Manservant and Maidservant, More Women than Men, A Family and a Fortune, A House and Its Head, and A God and His Gifts. She received her DBE in 1967 for her contribution to literature.

Daughter of a famous homeopathic physician, James Compton-Burnett (1840–1901), Ivy was the cousin of Dr. Margery Blackie (1898–1981), who succeeded Ivy’s father as the country’s leading homeopathic physician, though distinguished herself even further by becoming the physician to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II. Before Ivy’s mother, Katherine Rees, married her father, she was diagnosed with Bright’s disease and was expected to never get well. However, she sought the homeopathic care of Dr. Compton-Burnett who cured her in eight months with homeopathic Mercurius vivus (mercury).[iii] They were married within the year, and ten months later Ivy was born. Her mother lived another twenty-seven years.

---

[ii] Alpine Pharmaceuticals (San Rafael, Calif.) sponsored a double-blind, placebo-controlled study using two potencies of Arnica in the treatment of patients who underwent facial plastic surgery (Seeley, et al., 2006). This study, conducted by the head of the Facial Plastic Surgery Department at the University of California, San Francisco, was published in a respected AMA surgical journal. 

[iii] Although mercury is a well-known toxic substance, the doses used in homeopathic medicine are known to be safe and have a 200-year history of safety and efficacy. In the United States, the Food and Drug Administration has regulated the sales of homeopathic medicines since 1938, and has determined the safe dosage levels of the 1,000-plus legally recognized homeopathic medicines.

See also Mr. Ullman's post The Royal Medicine: Monarchs’ Longtime Love for Homeopathy.

Excerpted with permission from Chapter 3 of The Homeopathic Revolution: Why Famous People and Cultural Heroes Choose Homeopathy by Dana Ullman
(Berkeley: North Atlantic Books/Random House, 2007)

The chapter also contains information about American Writers, An Eastern Advocate, other European Literary Figures, and Modern Literary Greats.

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

DANA ULLMAN, MPH, CCH, is one of America's leading advocates for homeopathy. He has authored 10 books, including The Homeopathic Revolution: Why Famous People and Cultural Heroes Choose Homeopathy, Homeopathy A-Z, Homeopathic Medicines for Children and Infants, Discovering Homeopathy, and (the best-selling) Everybody's Guide to Homeopathic Medicines (with Stephen Cummings, MD). Dana also authored an ebook that is a continually growing resource to 200+ clinical studies published in peer-review medical journals testing homeopathic medicines. This ebook combines the descriptions of these studies with practical clinical information on how to use homeopathic medicines for 100+ common ailments. This ebook is entitled Evidence Based Homeopathic Family Medicine, and it is an invaluable resource. Dana has been certified in classical homeopathy by the leading organization in the U.S. for professional homeopaths. 
He is the founder of Homeopathic Educational Services, America's leading resource center for homeopathic books, tapes, medicines, software, and correspondence courses. Homeopathic Educational Services has co-published over 35 books on homeopathy with North Atlantic Books. 
Dana writes a regular column for the wildly popular website, www.huffingtonpost.com(to access these articles, click HERE!)

Giveaway: Norah: The Making of an Irish-American Woman in 19th-Century New York

Cynthia Neale is giving away a copy of Norah. You can read about the book HERE. You will be prompted to return to this post to enter the drawing. Please be sure to leave your contact information.

The Right Honourable Henry Pelham, Prime Minister

by Lauren Gilbert

 Henry Pelham was the second son of Sir Thomas Pelham, baronet, a prominent mover of the Revolution that placed William & Mary on the throne. Sir Thomas was a Whig, and was raised to peerage as Baron Pelham. Henry’s mother was Grace Holles, the daughter of Gilbert, Earl of Clare. He was born in 1696, admitted to Hart-hall in the University of Oxford Sept 6 1710, at age 15.

On July 22, 1715, Henry was appointed Captain in General Dormer’s regiment. This appears to be his first and only commission. He served during the rebellion of 1715, and was known to have participated in the battle of Preston in Lancashire, where the Jacobites were defeated. It seems probable that he did not continue in the army.

On October 29, 1726, Henry Pelham married Lady Catherine Manners, daughter of John Manners, second Duke of Rutland. Rutland also had Whig connections: his father was a Whig, and Catherine’s sister Elizabeth married John Monckton, Viscount Galway, who was also a Whig. They had eight children, including two sons who both died in 1739. They also had six daughters, four of whom lived to adulthood: Catherine, Countess of Lincoln (married Henry Fiennes Pelham-Clinton, a first cousin) 1727-1760; Frances Pelham (never married) 1728-1824; Grace, Baroness Sondes 1735-1777 (married Lewis Watson, Baron Stokes of Lees Court); and Mary Pelham 1739-?, who also never married.

Henry Pelham was, of course, a Whig (this would appear inevitable with his own family tradition subsequently reinforced by his wife’s connections as well as his personal convictions). As so many other second sons did, he turned to politics to make his way. In February 1719, he went into Parliament for the borough of Seaford in Sussex (thanks to family influence). In 1720, he was appointed treasurer of the chamber, thanks to recommendation by Lord Townshend, (the president of the council and his brother-in-law) and Robert Walpole (paymaster of the forces). On May 6, 1720, he made his first speech in the House of Commons.

Henry’s alliance with Robert Walpole, later Lord Orford, continued. When Lord Townshend was returned to his post and secretary of state and Mr Walpole to his post as minister of finance in 1721, Henry was called to the Treasury Board. Mr. Walpole took note of Henry’s diligence and hard work. He was returned as one of the members for Sussex, and continued to represent that county for the rest of his life.

He served as Secretary at War from 1724 until 1730, when he was awarded the advantageous position of paymaster of the forces. In his various positions, he became known for his civility and candour, as well as his hard work and dependability, and was widely respected. He also developed a friendship with Henry Fox, another of Walpole’s supporters.

Henry Pelham’s older brother Thomas, Duke of Newcastle was in the cabinet. They formed an effective political partnership. His brother appears to have been more emotional, sensitive and jealous (the Duke expected deference to his opinion, worried that others had greater influence), while Henry was calmer and more rational. In their working partnership, the Duke was more flamboyant, while Henry was quieter, more “behind the scenes” in the House of Commons. Their combined influence in both houses of Parliament strengthened the stability of the government. Although they did disagree sometimes which caused some stress and difficulty, they managed to maintain a good working relationship and affectionate personal relationship.

The Duke was also a political ally of Robert Walpole. In 1724 he became Secretary of State after Lord Carteret was dismissed, thanks to the influence of Mr Walpole and Lord Townsend.

Lord Carteret was a favourite of George II and actively lobbied the King against the Whigs who were hostile to the King’s foreign policy, which was heavily weighted for the support of Hanover, at the perceived cost for England. Pelham was not a proponent of the wars, and was particularly disturbed by the amount of money required to maintain them. Robert Walpole and Pelham had managed to allay some of the king’s distrust, but Pelham resigned when King George II refused to approve offices for Pitt and Fox. Carteret’s choice Lord Granville was recalled but unable to form a government. Pelham et al returned very quickly.

Pelham served as prime minister 10 years, and was noted for his ability to work with and unite multiple political factions. Although the financial scandals that affected Walpole and Fox seem to have touched him, there appears to have been no significant effect on his career.

Although Henry Pelham’s administration was not particularly flamboyant, and I found several references implying that the successes of his administration were more due to his brother the Duke’s influence, there were significant accomplishments:

He is credited with the reduction of the national debt 1747-48 (improved credit, interest reduced to 3%).

He worked to end of the War of the Austrian Succession in 1748, which resulted in peace with France and trade with Spain.

He supported the Consolidation Act 1749 which was passed and resulted in the reorganization of the Royal Navy.

The calendar was reorganized (in 1751, New Year’s Day changed from March 25 to January first; in 1752, the adoption of Gregorian Calendar was passed).

Pelham attempted several social reforms and, although he did not achieve all he attempted, his administration succeeded in the passage of the “Jew Act” of 1753 which allowed Jews to become naturalized by applying to Parliament, and the Marriage Act of 1753 (aka the Hardwicke Act) which established the minimum age of consent for marriage.

His was a relatively stable administration, with several years of peace.

Henry Pelham died unexpectedly in March 6, 1754. He had had a succession of illnesses during his life, and his sudden death was said to be the result of having eaten too much and exercised too little. He was succeeded by his brother the Duke of Newcastle. At his death, George II, who had not particularly liked Pelham, said, “Now I shall have no peace.”

Sources of information about Henry Pelham include:

Chancellor, E. Beresford. Memorials of St. James’s Street and Chronicles of Almack’s. 1922: Brentano’s, New York.

Tillyard, Stella. ARISTOCRATS Caroline, Emily, Louisa & Sarah Lennox 1740-1832. 1994: Chatto & Windus, London.

Williams, E. N. Life in Georgian England. 1962, 1967: B. T. Batsford LTD, London.

GoogleBooks. Coxe, William. Memoirs of the Administration of the Right Honourable Henry Pelham, Collected from the Family Papers, and Other Authentic Documents. Vol. I. 1829: Longman, Rees, Orme, Brown and Green, London. http://google.com/books?id=jrw_AAAAcAAJ

Gov.UK. Past Prime Ministers. “Henry Pelham Whig 1743 to 1754.” https://www.gov.uk/government/history/past-prime-ministers/henry-pelham

The Peerage online. “Rt. Hon. Henry Pelham.” Person Page 1595. http://www.thepeerage.com/p1595.htm

The University of Notthingham-Manuscripts and Special Collections. “Biography of Henry Pelham (c. 1696-1754; Prime Minister). http://www.nottingham.ac.uk/manuscriptsandspecialcollections/collectionsindepth/family/newcastle/biographies/biographyofhenrypelham(c1695-1754;primeminister).aspx

The World of Heyerwood blog. “An Almack’s Mystery: Who was Miss Pelham?” by Lauren Gilbert, posted 1/12/2014. http://laurengilbertheyerwood.wordpress.com/2014/01/12/an-almacks-mystery-who-was-miss-pelham

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

Lauren Gilbert is the author of HEYERWOOD: A Novel. A long-time member of JASNA and life-long reader of historical novels, she lives in Florida with her husband and is working on her second novel.

In Search of a Character, or Two, in Ludlow

by Tim Carrington

Photo Courtesy of Paul Farmer
Wikimedia Commons

"Oh, come you home on Sunday
When Ludlow's streets are still
And Ludlow's bells are calling
To farm and lane and mill.
Or come you home on Monday
When Ludlow Market hums
And Ludlow chimes are playing
The Conquering Hero Comes."

Those are the well-known words of A.E.Housman who wrote 'A Shropshire Lad'. Although his ashes were laid to rest in Ludlow, Housman was born in Worcestershire. But that's the effect that Shropshire has on people, they come to visit and end up staying here.

Ludlow has always been a 'favourite town'. and is even thought of as 'up-market Shropshire'. Like Shrewsbury, it has its castle and river. Like Shrewsbury, it has so much history attached to it that, as a subject, it is worthy of study on its own. But there the comparisons end. Although both towns have seen development, Ludlow's town centre has fared better, and the annual Ludlow Festival has firmly put the town at the top of the county's cultural list. To be brutally honest, Ludlow is one of England’s ‘new towns’. One of those places created by invaders in the 11th century with none of the earlier Roman and Celtic heritage – but I still love the place.

Buttercross, Broad Street, Ludlow
Pauline Eccles, Wikimedia Commons

Whichever way one approaches Ludlow the town is impressive, and the climb up to the town centre gives one the impression of 'arriving'. One such approach is over Ludford bridge then through Broad Gate and into Broad Street which rises steadily to the Butter Cross at the top. Particularly when on foot, one can feel the history of this town enveloping the visitor in a welcome embrace.

Early History

The Saxons called it Leodlowe which implies an administration centre. But of that early settlement there are no remains and we have to wait until the Norman Conquest to find the Ludlow of today. Roger de Montgomery erected the greatest part of the castle, and fortified the town with walls.

He was related to William the Conqueror, and whether he was given the Marches (border) region because of his family ties, or because he was a brilliant soldier/administrator, and was therefore the man for the job, is not clear. Whatever the reasons, for his efforts he was awarded the Earldoms of Arundel and Shrewsbury.

It must be remembered that at that time most of the country's problems were with the Welsh. Ludlow, being so close to the border, was an ideal staging post for armies in times of trouble, and an administrative centre when times were more peaceful.

To combat the threats from Wales, the King allowed any Lord or Baron to raise an army and march into Wales, the reward being that he could keep anything he took from the Welsh. For this reason, the Lords, or Barons, Marchers were a great ally if on your side, but a terrible problem if they were not, and it is these Lords of the Marches who created much of the history of Ludlow and, indeed, the whole of the Marches area.

When Roger de Montgomery died, his second son, Hugh, inherited his English titles and estates and became Lord of Ludlow. But, unfortunately, he did not live long and his death is recorded in the Welch Chronicle thus;

"The year following being 1096, Hugh de Montgomery, Earl of Arundell
and Salopsburie, whom the Welchmen called Hugh Goch, that is to say,
Hugh the red-headed; and Hugh Vras, that is Hugh the fat, Earl of
Chester, and a great number of nobles more, did gather a hugh armie,
and entred into North Wales, being thereto moved by certein lords of
the country .... And so the Earls came over against the ile of Mon, or
Anglesey, where they did build a castel of Aberihiennhawc. Then the
Earls spoiled the ile and slew all that they found there. And at the
verie same time Magnus, the sonne of Haroald, came with a great navie
of ships towards England, minding to laie faster hold upon that
kingdome than his father had done, and being driven by chaunce to
Anglesey, would have landed there, but the Earls kept him from the
land. And there Magnus with an arrowe stroke Hugh, Earl of Salop in
the face, that he died thereof."

Ludlow Castle
Ian Capper, Wikimedia Commons

Hugh's brother, Robert, succeeded him, but he was the opposite of his brother and is recorded as; "a most ingenious architect, a man of great insight in serious affairs, and unwearied in his management of worldly affairs; but for inflicting torments, a most inexorable butcher, exceedingly cruel, covetous and libidinous." Robert was finally defeated by Henry I who turned Ludlow into a Royal Residence.

When Stephen came to the throne in 1135, the governor of Ludlow was Gervase Paganelle, but he was a supporter of the Empress Maud, and the King besieged Ludlow. The outcome is not clear, but it is generally believed that Gervase had a change of heart and obtained the king's forgiveness.

Over the next hundred years Ludlow was the centre of rivalry between the Dynans and the de Lacys and it was while one of the de Lacy’s and one of his knights were imprisoned by Joce de Dynan that we find an interesting character, Marion of the Heath.

"Sir Arnold was a young bachelor and handsome, and he was greatly overtaken with the love of Marion of the Heath, a very pretty damsel, who was the chief chamber-maid of the lady of the castle of Dynan. Sir Arnold and the damsel often conversed together; for she used to come every day into the tower with her lady, to comfort Sir Walter de Lacy and Sir Arnold.

"It happened that Sir Arnold, when he saw an opportunity, pleaded with the damsel, and told her that she was the thing which he loved most, and that he was so much overtaken with her love, that he could have no rest day or night unless she yield to him; for she could give him relief from all his sorrows. And, if she would do it, he would make her a surety at her own will that never would he love another but her; and, as soon as he should be set at liberty, he would take her for his wife.

"The damsel heard the fair promise, and yielded him to do his will in all things, and took surety of him that he would hold with her according to his promise. The damsel promised them that she would help them in all points secretly, that they might be delivered from prison. And she took towels and sheets, and carried them into the tower, and sewed them together, and by means of these she let down Sir Walter and Sir Arnold from the tower, and she prayed them to keep their faith and the promise which they had made her. And they told her that they would behave faithfully towards her, without breaking any covenant, and bid her adieu.

"Months go by and Joce de Dynan left his castle on affairs of state.

"And Marion of the Heath feigned sickness, and took to her bed, and said that she was so ill that she could not move except with great difficulty. And she remained at the castle of Dynan. Joce commanded that she should be carefully attended to. And, for fear of the Lacy and other people, he took into his pay thirty knights and seventy sergeants and valets, and delivered them his castle to keep until his return into the country.

"When Joce was gone, next day Marion sent a messenger to Sir Arnold de Lys, and prayed him, for the great friendship that was between them, that he would not forget the covenants which were made between them, and that he come hastily to talk with her at the castle of Dynan, for the lord and the lady and the strength of their household are gone to Hertland, and that he come to the same place where last he escaped from the castle.

"When Sir Arnold had heard the message of his mistress, he immediately sent back the same messenger, and prayed that for his love she would measure the height of the window by which he last escaped out of the castle, and that she should send him back information by the said messenger what kind of people, and how many, and what household their lord had left behind him.

Ludlow Castle Gatehouse

The damsel, who had no suspicion of treason, took a silk cord, and let it down through the window to the ground, and sent information of all the condition of the castle to Sir Arnold. Then Sir Arnold sent back to his mistress that on the fourth day, before it struck midnight, he would be at the same window through which he passed; and begged that she would wait for him there.

The night was very dark, so that they were not perceived by the watch, or by any one else. Sir Arnold took a squire, who carried the ladder of leather, and went to the window where Marion was waiting for them. And when she saw them, she was never so joyful; and she let down a cord, and drew up the ladder of leather, and fastened it to a battlement of the wall. And Arnold mounted easily and lightly the tower, and took his mistress between his arms and kissed her; and they made great joy, and went thence into another chamber, and supped, and then went to bed, and left the ladder hanging.

The esquire who carried it went for the knights and the great company who were in ambush in the lord's garden and elsewhere, and brought them to the ladder. And a hundred men, well armed, mounted by means of the ladder of leather, and went down from the tower of Pendover, and went along the wall behind the chapel.

And they found the watch sleeping, for he seemed to be heavy under the presentiment of death; and they took him immediately, and would have thrown him down from his tower into the deep fosse; but he cried for mercy, and begged that they would suffer him to whistle one note before he died. And they granted it him; but he did it in order that the knights within should be warned. But it was all in vain.

While he whistled the greater part of the knights and sergeants were being cut to pieces; and they screamed and cried in their beds that God might have pity. But the companions of Sir Arnold were without pity; for all who were therein they put to a foul death, and many a sheet which was white at even, was all reddened with blood. At last they threw the watch into the deep fosse, and broke his neck.

Meanwhile, Marion of the Heath lay in bed beside her love, Sir Arnold, and knew nothing of the treason which Sir Arnold had perpetrated; she heard a great noise in the castle, rose from the bed, and looked down into the castle, heard the noise and cry of the wounded, and saw knights in arms and white helms and hauberks.

Now she perceived that Sir Arnold had deceived and betrayed her, and began to weep very affectingly, and said piteously: 'Alas!' said she, 'that ever I was born of mother; for by my fault, my lord, Sir Joce, who fostered me tenderly, has lost his castle and his good people; and had I never been, nothing would have been lost. Alas! that ever I believed this knight; for by his flattery he has deceived me, and my lord, which is still more to me.'

Marion, all weeping, drew the sword of Sir Arnold and said, 'Sir knight, awake; for you have brought strange company into the castle of my lord without leave. But if you, Sir, and your esquire, were lodged
by me, the others, who have come in through your means, were not. And, since you have deceived me, you cannot rightly blame me if I render you service according to your desert; but you shall never boast to any mistress you shall have, that by my deceit you have gained the castle of Dynan and the country.'

The knight raised himself erect. Marion, with the sword which she held drawn in her hand, struck the knight through the body, and the knight died immediately. Marion knew well that if she were taken, she should be delivered to an evil death, and knew not what to do; so she let herself fall from a window towards Linney, and broke her neck."
          A translation by Leland of a 12th/13th century manuscript that was written in Norman French and Welsh. John Leland 1503 – 1552

Oh what a^””holes men can be! Or is all fair in love and war?

Roger de Mortimer

In 1303, during the reign of Edward I, Roger de Mortimer (a very famous Shropshire name) married Joane, the widow of Peter de Genevill and became Lord of Ludlow Castle. Edward I was succeeded by Edward II who was a bit of a bad egg, and Roger de Mortimer sided with other discontented barons of the realm and was imprisoned in the Tower of London. But he managed to escape, and, in memory of his escape, built the chapel which still stands in Ludlow Castle.

In the reign of Edward III Roger de Mortimer was created Earl of March and Justice of Wales, but he was destined for a sticky end, and was executed when he was found in bed with the King's mother, and, as if
that wasn't enough, he was also accused of the murder of Edward II. His crimes were listed in the celebrated poem "Mirrour of Magistrates".

"Five hainous crimes against him soon were had.
1. First that he causde the King to yeeld the Scott.
(To make a peace) townes that were from him got.
And therewithall the Charter called Ragmau.
2. That of the Scots he had privy gaine,
3. That through his meanes Sir Edward Carnarvon
In Barkley Castle most traiterously was slain.
4. That with his Prince's mother he had laine,
5. And finally with polling at his pleasure
Had rob'd the King and Commons of their treasure."

For his crimes he was executed at Tyburn, hanging (by the King's commandment) "two days and two nights, a public and gladsome spectacle."

Ludlow passed to a grandson of Roger Mortimer and continued in the possession of the Mortimers for some considerable time. "How great, how pious, how numerous these Mortimers were, and lastly how honourable the name went out, being wrapt up in the crown by an heir general," for the Mortimers were involved in the Wars of the Roses, as Edmund Mortimer was related to Richard Plantagenet, Earl of Cambridge, who was beheaded by Henry V.

But before we get to the Wars of the Roses, we have to deal with another Welshman in the shape of Owen Glendower during the reign of Henry IV. Owen Glendower objected to English landlords in Wales, in particular the Mortimers, and attacked Radnor Castle which belonged to Roger Mortimer, as well as many other 'English' strongholds. At Knighton, on the Shropshire- Welsh border, Glendower and his men fought an army commanded by Sir Edmund Mortimer. Mortimer lost eleven-hundred men and was himself taken prisoner.

During the Wars of the Roses, Ludlow was a stronghold for the House of York and was the place of rendezvous for supporters of the Duke of York. When Henry's army marched on Ludlow they demanded the surrender of the town. The civilians said yes, but the garrison said no, and fighting between the two broke out within the besieged town.

Later, the Yorkists fled and the town and castle were sacked by the King's army. After the Duke of York was slain at the Battle of Wakefield, his son and heir, Edward (a descendant of the Mortimer family), took up the cause and visited Shrewsbury and Ludlow to quickly raise an army which defeated the King's army at Mortimer's Cross, to the south of Ludlow.

Ludlow became a favourite town of Edward after he was crowned, and in the first year of his reign he granted the first Charter of Incorporation.-, "In consideration of the praiseworthy and gratuitous services, which our well beloved and faithful subjects, the Burgesses of the town of Ludlow, have done in aid of recovering the right of the crown of England, withheld from us and our ancestors, and being
therefore desirous for the bettering and relief of the town."

With Edward's help, Ludlow was rebuilt. It became a favourite Royal Residence and home to Edward IV's oldest son, Edward, and his younger son, Richard, Duke of York. It was from here, after the death of
Edward IV, that the two young princes were taken to London.

Henry VII

After the Battle of Bosworth, Henry VII came to the throne, and by marrying the eldest daughter of Edward IV he united the houses of York and Lancaster. Henry VII, because of his Welsh connections, did much to progressively strip the Marcher Lords of their powers over the Welsh, and what he started was completed by Henry VIII.

In 1501, Prince Arthur, Henry VII's eldest son, married Catherine of Aragon and took up residence in Ludlow Castle with his bride. (He was fifteen, she was eighteen). With reference to that marriage, the
writings of Hall give us a curious specimen of the manners and language of those times.

....."Because I will not be tedious I passe over wyse devises, the
prudent speches, the costly woorkes, the conninge portratures
practised and set foorth in VII goodly beutiful pageauntes erected and
set up in diverse places of the citie. I leave also the goodly
ballades, the swete armony, the musicall instrumentes, which sounded
with heavenly noyes on every side of the strete. I omit farther, the
costly apparel both of gold-smythes woorke and embraudery, the ryche
jewelles, the massy cheynes, the sturynge horses, the beutiful barbes
and the glitterynge trappers, bothe with belles and spangles of golde.
I pretermit also the ryche apparelle of the pryncesse, the straunge
fashion of the Spanyshe nacion, the beautie of the English ladyes, the
goodly demeanure of the young damosels, the amorous countenance of the
lusty bachelors, I passe over also the fyne engrayned clothes, the
costly furres of the citezens, standynge on skaffoldes, rayled from
Gracechurche to Paules. What should I speke of the oderiferous
skarlettes, the fyne velvet, the pleasaunt furres, the massye chaynes,
which the Mayre of London with the senate, sitting on horsebacke at
the little conduyte in Chepe, ware on their bodyes, and about their
neckes. I will not molest you with rehersyng the riche arras, the
costly tapestry, the fyne clothes bothe of golde and silver, the
curious velvettes, the beautiful sattens nor the pleasaunte sylkes,
which did hang in every street where she passed, the wyne that ranne
continually out of the conduytes, the graveling and rayling of the
stretes nedeth not be remembered."

Having spent so long listing the things he wasn't going to mention, what was left to mention? But Arthur died the following year and lay in state in Ludlow Castle for three weeks before being buried at
Worcester.

Because of their Welsh connections, Henry VII and VIII did much to placate the Welsh Nation until, in the twenty-seventh year of the reign of Henry VIII, Wales emerged as a nation where the Welsh had equal rights to the English.

In passing this Act, Henry also altered the role of Ludlow. In the past it had been the headquarters of the Marcher Lords who were little more than legalised thugs, when viewed from the Welsh point of view. But now Ludlow became the headquarters of the President of the Court of justice for Wales, and was served by counsellors, a secretary, an attorney, a solicitor and four justices.

Peace had come to Ludlow and the Marches after almost 450 years of Ludlow being the centre of bloody power struggles between the English and the Welsh and even the English and the English.

Not a bad history for one of our new towns?

Tim Carrington
tim-carrington.co.uk

PS. Oh but I forgot to mention the famous ‘Ludlow Massacre’. Well if you want to know about that you’ll just have to look it up.