Writing about women in the past

Grand Duchess Natalia Alexeievna
shown pregnant and happy
in a portrait by Alexander Roslin, 1776. 

The position of women in the historical novel is problematic for authors like me. Exploring the strengths and weaknesses of my characters and how they cope with the historical world is what interests me and I want to show women in a positive and realistic light. However when it comes to writing about women in past I am confronted with some tricky problems.

The main problem is that for most of history women were legally, socially and economically subject to the will of men.

As my November blogs show even queens and princesses had very little control over their own lives.

Woman by Francesco Gasparini

In a strange way poor women were the freest to be themselves as they worked even when they were married and had children and earned their own money. The problem for these women was that their earnings were always vastly inferior to men’s and a woman alone was almost invariably a poor and exploited one. It's true in London and other towns where social anonymity was the norm many women turned to prostitution as a more lucrative way of staying alive.

For women of the middling sort, I hesitate to use the word class here, as for most of history there was no middle class as we know today, financial dependence on men was the norm even into the middle of the last century. Of course financial dependence on men has not gone away as women are still paid on average 16% less than men for the same work!

With no meaningful contraception, women were almost always burdened with pregnancy, subject to premature death in childbirth and responsible with almost all childcare unless a woman was wealthy enough to employ a nurse or nanny.

A single 'free' woman in the past was the exception and was almost certainly viewed as unsuccessful. Marriage and children were the markers of success for a woman in past and still are for most men and women today although more women are going it alone than ever and are happy with their decision. For the majority of us who marry it's a struggle to manage a demanding career and a family no matter how successful a we are in our chosen profession.




So how does the modern author go about creating their female historical characters?

Well some authors focus their attentions on the few women who broke the mould in the past while other abandon any sense of historical verisimilitude. Some use the Cinderella formula while others make their female characters masculine, sassy and ruthless. All of these forms can work if the story is good but they are not for me in the Tales of Tooley Street as the main characters are inspired by actual people who lived and worked at 65 Tooley Street for three generations.

Some argue that The Fortunes and Misfortunes of the Famous Moll Flanders (commonly known simply as Moll Flanders) a novel by Daniel Defoe, first published in 1722 is the prototype for a female character who by the end of the novel controls her own life and is financially independent. Moll achieves what many feminists call success.

Alex Kingston in the BBC
 adaptation of Moll Flanders

Feminist writer Diana Del Vecchio says, "By the end of the book, Moll has completely appropriated the role of the husband, the provider, the masculine, the seeker, the adventurer, the leader, the thinker, and has figuratively donned the clothing of man, while keeping her nature as woman intact. She makes the final decision to enter and sign a legal contract with her son, where he manages her inherited land and gives her an annual compensation of the lands’ produce. When she returns to Jemy, it is she that supplies him with a dowry of a gold watch, a hundred pounds in silver, a deer skin purse, Spanish pistols, three horses with harnesses and saddles, some hogs, two cows, and other gifts for the farm. She enters this relationship with the fortune of her inheritance and the many accoutrements that she has acquired and accumulated in her years as a thief. For the first time in her life, she forms a relationship with a man, where she is the one in control."

The fact that Moll has to step outside the law to become independent is the problem for me but it is probably a realist one as Defoe was fully aware of the way society worked in the early 18th century. Prostitution and thieving were rife in London in the 18th century but most women involved in the trade did not end up like Moll. Most ended in an early grave, at the end of a noose or transported for life if caught. My character is inspired by a respectable widow who raises her son to be a successful doctor so prostitution and thieving are not options for her.

Add caption

Historian Lucy Worsley's most recent BBC TV series on the Wives of Henry III offers an alternative approach to the female character and narrative in history.





In the series she looked at the events of Henry's reign through the eyes of the women involved. She cleverly managed to breath new life into this over worked territory by showing Katherine of Aragon as a competent and popular queen not as the obsessively religious woman of traditional portrayals who was intelligent, ambitious and for much of her 24-year marriage gave as good as she got. Anne Boleyn too was shown as a clever and ambitious woman betrayed by her husband and removed on trumped up charges of adultery. Jane Seymour was a young and tragic a woman fed to the old lecher of a king by her male relatives only to die in childbirth. Ann of Cleaves was a smart political operator who negotiated herself out of disaster and ended up one of the richest women in England. Catherine Howard was what we would call an abused child who did not know how to say no to powerful and determined men; and, Katherine Parr was a wily woman of great learning and intellect who used her position to promote the establishment of the 'new religion' Protestantism and managed to out manoeuvre and outwit her enemies at court. See a clip by following the link. Six Wives of Henry VII clips.

In my own writing I have taken the Lucy Worsley approach. My heroine, Charlotte Leadam, the widow of the Tooley Street Surgeon Christopher Leadam is intelligent and resourcefulness but she is an 18th century woman living in 18th century London. She faces financial oblivion when her husband dies as she cannot run the apothecary shop she owns becasue as a woman she cannot hold a licence and becasue she has to pay her husband's debts.

As a widow she yearns for the return of the feeling of financial security and independence she enjoyed when she was married but she does not want to remarry, not at the start with at least. As grief slowly disappears she finds that she needs to love and be loved again. Charlotte achieves her desires by complying with some social conventions of the day and by ignoring others but she's always well within the law. Here's an excerpt.

Tales of Tooley Street - Charlotte Leadam
 (Portrait of an unknown woman c. 1780)

 “You and John will stay here with us now that Christopher has gone,” her mother said, in a tone that indicated it was not a matter for discussion.

“That’s very kind of you and father, but Christopher has not gone, as you put it. He died; my husband is dead. I am a widow, not an abandoned child.”

“We know that, dearest. Your father and I comprehend the situation all too clearly,” she said, handing her daughter a fresh towel and a bar of soap. “You’re a woman without a husband and without an income. You cannot simply go back to your old life, Charlotte; it no longer exists. Your father and I have discussed the matter, and we have decided that it is best that you and John stay here where we can provide for you. That is until you marry again.”

The flame of ire burning in Charlotte’s chest was rekindled and refuelled. Whilst she could not dispute her mother’s analysis of the situation, she was nonetheless livid with her for expressing it so clearly. She bit her lip, held her tongue and breathed the long slow breaths that Christopher had taught her to use in such situations. Experience told her that this was not the time or the place to have an argument with her mother. Losing her temper never worked; she had to be more cunning than that. As calmly as she could she said, “Mother, I have no plans to remarry.”

“I’m not saying that you have to forget Christopher. I’m not that cruel and insensitive. ” She pointed to the bath. “Your father took this in lieu of payment from a whore in St James’s. The poor woman could not pay her rent either, so your father took the bath before the landlord did. My friend Mrs Peacock says that bathing is of great benefit for the nerves, so I thought you might like to try it. I shall not be doing so: I’m too old to change the habits of a lifetime. Besides, they cost a fortune in hot water – which is all very well for Mrs Peacock: her husband is a banker. And I can’t use poor Millie like this again; she is exhausted with carrying the pails from the kitchen.”

When her mother had gone Charlotte launched herself face down onto the bed and let out a long, low scream of frustration. How dare her mother decide what she was going to do with her life without even talking to her about it? And why had she told her about the whore? Was she trying to warn her what happens to women who are left on their own?

Volume 1 of the Tales of Tooley Street, "Sinclair", will be available in March 2017

Love, Letters and Spies

Klemens Wenzel Nepomuk Lothar, Fürst von Metternich-Winneburg zu Beilstein otherwise known simply as Metternich was probably the greatest diplomat of the nineteenth century. As well as being a towering intellectual he seems to have been a very physical man, if not on the field of battle then in the bedchamber. In her book, Dorothea Lieven: A Russian Princess in London and Paris, 1785-1857, Judith Lissauer Cromwell describes him as, “witty and charming, above average height, slim and graceful, “the Adonis of the Drawing Room.” A man with, "fair hair, an aquiline nose, a well shaped mouth, a high forehead and piercing blue eyes."


He served as the Austrian Empire's Foreign Minister from 1809 and Chancellor from 1821 and was responsible for what historians call ‘The Concert of Europe.” This was not a forerunner of the Eurovision Song contest but a concert in the sense of an arrangement of something by mutual agreement or coordination and the thing he was in charge of arranging was the restoration of Europe to its state before the French Revolution after the defeat of Napoleon. He managed what is called 'The Congress System' from 1814 until the liberal revolutions of 1848 finally forced his resignation. But it is not his achievements as a statesman or his politics I am interested in today, it is achievements as a husband, lover, and as one of the most prolific love letter writers in history.



Metternich had three wives, obviously not all at the same time although one suspects he might have managed that if he had had the opportunity he rarely had only one bed to go to at a time. With his first wife, Princess Eleonore von Kaunitz (m. 1795–1825) he had 10 children, with his second wife, Baroness Antoinette Leykam (m. 1827–29) he had one child; and with his third wife, Countess Melanie Zichy-Ferraris (m. 1831–54) he had another five. You would think that was more than enough for any man but Metternich did not stop there. He managed to squeeze in another child with his mistress Katharina Bagration. Princess Marie-Clementine, was born on 29 September 1810 in Vienna and to save face was promptly adopted into the Bagration family in Russia.

Katharina Bagration,
La chatte blanche

At the Congress of Vienna in 1815 Metternich had two mistresses in tow. His long standing mistress the widow Katharina Bagration and his new love interest the Duchess of Sagan.

Both women ran a pro-Russian, anti-Napoleonic salons in the city mainly financed by the Tsar and in the case of Bagration by her besotted but estranged husband until he died from his wounds at the battle of Borodino in 1812. Bagration was known as le bel ange nu "the beautiful nude angel" because she wore low cut dresses with bare shoulders, and la chatte blanche "the white cat" for her white Indian muslin dresses that clung seductively to her body and her wily intelligence. Her influence on the politicians and statesmen who frequented her salon was significant and Napoleon is said to have considered her a formidable opponent.

But by 1815 Bagration's charms were becoming less beguiling to Metternich. The new woman in his life, Katharina Friederike Wilhelmine Benigna, Princess of Courland, Duchess of Sagan (1781-1839) a German noblewoman from what is today part of Latvia was taking over his affections and attention.

There was intense rivalry between the women who were living in separate wings of the Palm Palace in Vienna in 1815, both the paid guests and informers of Tsar Alexander. This state of affairs was a complication even the greatest diplomat in Europe found hard to manage. "What a detestable complication your residence is in Vienna," he wrote Sagan but he was not going to give up Sagan. He had been infatuated with her since 1813 and besides she was useful. Over the years he had built up a network of female informants or 'spies' who had been his lovers like Caroline Bonaparte, now Queen of Naples and Laure Junot the wife of the French General and Bagration and Sagan would be no different in the end.

Katharina Friederike Wilhelmine Benigna,
Princess of Courland,
Duchess of Sagan
(1781-1839).

Sagan had been perusing Metternich since 1804 when the ambitious young widow's family moved to Berlin so that she inveigle herself into his affections but he did not fall under her spell then so she remarried only to divorce her new husband a year later saying, "I am ruining myself with husbands." When their affair began it was intense and Sagan demanded that Metternich divorce his wife and marry her if he wanted to continue. Her demands were brushed aside but the affair continued. He While he was in her thrall he wrote Sagan over 600 letters. The letters which were read by the Austrian Secret Police who rightly suspected Sagan of being a Russian spy at the time were lost and remained hidden until 1949. Reading the letters more than 100 years later it is easy to see that Sagan mimicked her lover's prose, they reflected his opinions back to him, confirmed his conceits and his image as peacemaker and conqueror. In short she pandered to his enormous ego and he loved it and her much to the Tsar's delight. In the summer of 1814 the pair fell out. She wrote, "Everything has so completely changed between us that it is not at all astonishing that our thoughts and our sentiments agree on anything. I am beginning to believe that we never really known each other. We were both perusing a phantom.” The break up was acrimonious with Metternich saying as he took to the baths at Baden that they were, " to arm his skin," against her."

Three years later, Metternich began another affair with Princess Dorothea von Lieven (1785 – 1857). Dorothea was a Baltic German noblewoman and wife of Prince Khristofor Andreyevich Lieven, Russian ambassador to London from 1812 to 1834. It seems Metternich had a penchant for aristocratic women from the Baltic, she was the third in succession of Baltic lovers. Cromwell describes Dorothea as a, “tall and slender woman, distinguished rather than beautiful, with strikingly proud bearing.

Princess Dorothea von Lieven
(1785 – 1857)

Doroethea was not an instant success in London and was considered cold and snobbish by London Society. She had a long and elegant neck that earned her the nickname, “the swan” and by those who disliked her, “the giraffe. But her reputation did not bother her she was not after friendship she was after power much like her predecessors Sagan and Bagration and she used her intelligence, charisma, and social skills to make herself a leader of London's politically infused society. She cultivated friendships with the foremost diplomats of the day. Not only did she become Metternich’s lover she was also reputed to have had an affair with Lord Palmerston, although there is no firm proof of this and she was a close friend of Foreign Secretary, Lord Castlereagh and Lord Grey.

The introduction of the waltz at Almack's

Her hard work paid off and she became a leader of London society; invitations to her home were the most sought after. She was the first foreigner to be elected a patroness of Almack's, London's most exclusive social club, where she introduced the scandalous dance, the waltz to England, when the Tsar Alexander came to London in 1818. It was during that visit the two great lovers first met. They took an instant dislike to one another. She thought he was cold and intimidating and far too self- important. He dismissed her as just a pretty woman travelling in the Tsar’s wake and treated her with complete indifference.

However, at a party hosted by the Dutch Ambassador on 22nd October at Aix-La-Chappelle that year, they found themselves sitting next to each other and she played him for all he was worth drawing him out with questions on his favourite subject; Napoleon; and by indulging his ego and listening to his every word she won him over. The next day she found herself alone in a carriage with the Prince and as they chatted, they found that they had much in common. They were both disappointed in the people they were married to, they hated getting up early in the morning, they  liked the same paintings, the same novels and literature, the same style of furniture – in fact they were kindred spirits. A few days later, their notorious liaison began with Dorothea concealing her identity by wearing a long cloak and veil in order to enter the Prince’s apartment incognito.

Congress at Aix la Chapelle, 1818

In Metternich Dorothea had found her equal, he was a man she could love wholeheartedly, who could satisfy her physically, emotionally and intellectually. She wrote, “Good God! My love, I know how to rejoice in so few things, do you understand what makes me feel true happiness, it is you, only you! My Clement, if you cease to love me what will become of me?  ... My dear friend promise to love me as much as I love you; our lives are pledged in this promise.”

In Dorothea Metternich had met the woman of his dreams, she could match his intellect and his passion. She could speak and write in four languages and her wit and intelligence were as sharp as his. He wrote, “My happiness today is you. Your soul is full of common sense your heart is full of warmth ... You are as a woman what I am as a man.” “Why are your letters so like mine? Why do you write me almost the same words I have written to you, and you have the air of knowing them whilst my letter is still in my room? Will such perfect identity of our beings be so complete that the same thought only finds the same expression in each of us, when a word, a single phrase will succeed in expressing what we feel? .... I could write volumes, I could repeat to you a hundred times in one page that I love you.”

Their heated, clandestine, affair soon succumbed to the requirements state. They continued their liaison mainly in letters continuing their physical relationship whenever their paths crossed. Metternich described writing to Dorothea as like speaking to her, or chatting to her as if she were in the room with him because she was ‘in him.’ “You are my last thought before I go to sleep at night and first thought when I awaken,” he wrote.

The pair were tortured by their affair not only because of their separation but also because they both knew that they were married to others and that they could never be together. Dorothea was well aware of Metternich's reputation with women and called his fidelity to her into question on occasion. In the early years of the affair he chastised her for such thoughts but of course the inevitable happened and she broke off their relationship in 1826 when she found out that he traded her in for a younger woman.

Towards the end of her life Dorothea burned Metternich’s letters afraid that their intimacy would shock her family and ruin their reputations but she copied sections of his letters into her notebook. In one letter, that survived because it was copied by the French Secret Service, Dorothea writes about a dream she had when she was staying at Lord and Lady Jersey’s house one summer evening. She wrote; “We spoke a great deal, and for fear we would be heard, you took me on your lap so that you could speak to me more quietly; my dear Clement, I heard your heart beating, I felt it under my hand so strongly that I woke up, and it was my own heart reacting to yours. Mr God, my love, how it still beats at this moment .... will my dream ever become a reality?”

Lady Jersey,
Patroness at Almack's

Metternich occupied her imagination from 1818 to the beginning of 1826. By the end she was disillusioned; references to him in letters written after that date, are cold and spiteful and it seems that time did not heal her broken heart. She had nothing good to say about him or his third wife when she saw him in Brighton in 1849 describing him as "slow and tedious" and his wife as "stout and well-mannered." By then she was the wife in all but name of the French politician Guizot and living in Paris. It was said that even though she was a widow by then she refused to marry Guizot as she would have to give up her title of ‘Serene Highness’ something the proud and regal woman was never going to do. Like her former lover she was ancien regime through and through.

Dorothea Lieven died peacefully at her home, 2 rue Saint-Florentin, Paris, aged 71, on 27 January 1857, with Guizot and Paul Lieven, one of her two surviving sons, beside her. She was buried, according to her wish, at the Lieven family estate, Mežotne (near Jelgava) next to her two young sons who had died in St. Petersburg. She is a recurring minor figure in many historical novels about the period, notably those of Georgette Heyer. Heyer generally portrays her as a haughty, formidable, and unapproachable leader of society, but in The Grand Sophy she is described as "clever and amusing", and there is a passing reference in that book to her role in political intrigues.

Metternich died in Vienna two years later on 11 June 1859, aged 86. He was the last great figure of his generation; almost everyone of note in Vienna came to pay tribute at his funeral but in the foreign press his death went virtually unnoticed. Of course 'the coachman of Europe' is the topic of much historical discourse. His reactionary political views held sway in Europe for the best part of 35 years and his love affairs were a source of fascination and intrigue throughout the courts of Europe.

Sources:
Dorothea Lieven: A Russian Princess in London and Paris, 1785-1857 By Judith Lissauer Cromwell
The Congress of Vienna: Power and Politics After Napoleon By Brian E. Vick
1815: The Roads to Waterloo By Gregor Dallas
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Klemens_von_Metternich
http://www.eurozine.com/articles/2015-01-28-sluga-en.html

Liberté, égalité, fraternité - but not for women

We are interested in all things French at the moment it seems form the BBC's new block buster drama on the life of Louis XIV and Versailles to Euro 2016. France as we all know is the home of revolution, of Liberté, égalité, fraternité but what is not so well known is that women were barred from political rights even as they were being proclaimed to be universal and inalienable and in 1793 were deemed to lack sufficient education to participate in the nation's political life and by the autumn of that year they were also barred from participating in clubs and societies.

But not all Frenchmen and revolutionaries were against women's rights. Marie-Jean-Antoine-Nicolas de Caritat, Marquis de Condorcet (September 17, 1743–March 28, 1794) was one such man. In 1786 at the age forty-two, he married the twenty-two year old Sophie de Grouchy (1764–1822), with whom he forged a loving relationship. The pair shared similar political convictions and developed a solid intellectual partnership.

Like her husband, de Grouchy was committed to bringing about major judicial and political reforms in France; and her own experiences of convent schooling had left her with fierce dislike of the Church and a commitment to secular values. They both dreamed and worked towards a liberal, rational and democratic France. 

In 1790 as the French Revolution was well under way her husband called for “the admission of women to the rights of citizenship” but he was widely opposed on the grounds that women were innately inferior and destined to only to be wives and mothers.

In 1791, along with Thomas Paine, the Condorcets founded la Société républicaine [the Republican Society], sometimes credited as the first republican society in France; and Mme de Condorcet translated Paine's writings for the journal of the Society, La Républicain ou défenseur du gouvernement représentatif [The Republican or defender of representative government].

In the autumn of 1792, the Marquis was elected to the National Convention of the newly constituted first French Republic, and became chairman of the Committee on a Constitution. He proposed what became known as, “La Girondine” a constitution that was rejected in favour of the Jacobin Constitution, in June 1793 and his impassioned defence of La Girondine led to an order for his arrest and he was forced to flee from his beloved France.

Separated from one another de Condorcet wrote until he was found dead in prison cell under suspicious circumstances while his wife worked on her own text known as Lettres à Cabanis sur la sympathie [Letters to Cabanis on Sympathy], in which she sets forth her own ideas on achieving “a society of happiness” and struggles with the question of what holds society together while her own life and the life of the nation was being rent asunder as the Terror raged.

Sophie was rendered penniless by her husband's proscription and death and to support herself, her child and her sister she opened a shop and put aside her writing and translation work for years until she eventually published a translation of Adam Smith's Theory of Moral Sentiments (1759) in 1798, adding eight letters, Lettres sur la Sympathie, commenting upon this work.  This became the standard French translation for the next two centuries. Her eight letters on sympathy were however ignored by historians of economic thought, and were only recently (2008) translated into English.

In the French Revolution we see for the first time the issue of gender as a constitutional condition for the possession of political rights and it is a sad irony that the women of France would not achieve the ballot until 1944, and many of the advancements in civil law passed in the euphoria of the 1790s were withdrawn by Napoleon, and not again fully secured until the last half of the twentieth century.

The Marquis de Condorcet was symbolically re- interred in the Panthéon in 1989, in honour of the bicentennial of the French Revolution and Condorcet's role as a central figure in the Enlightenment. He started his academic life as a mathematician then transferred those skills into social and political affairs developing a model he called “social arithmetic”. He could be called the ‘father of statistics’ because he advocated the use of statistics and probability theory, to the financial reforms, the reform of hospital care, jury decision-making and voting procedures.

Sophie's contribution to modern political and economic thought is now being properly evaluated and recognised particularly in the United States where her contribution to the discussion on the nature of liberty is now being widely acknowledged. In a world of political and social turmoil she advocates that educators and social reformers should nurture 'sympathy'  the feeling for others induced by imagining yourself in another’s place and imagining how you would feel. In this way, people would be led to strive to maintain good relations with their fellows and provide the basis both for specific benevolent acts and for the general social order. 

Sympathy may be an old idea but I think its a good one and many of our politicians and economists would do well to consider it once more.

Sources:

The Status of Women in Classical Economic Thought edited by Robert William Dimand, Chris Nyland

http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/histfem-condorcet/

http://forums.philosophyforums.com/threads/rousseaus-theory-of-sentiments-57752.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sophie_de_Condorcet
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marquis_de_Condorcet

June - is it the most romantic month of the year?

Tourism promoters on the Caribbean Island of Nevis have declared June the island’s Official Month of Romance. Nevis is undeniably gorgeous but where did this tradition of June romance and weddings come from? 

Let's start at the beginning - was it the Romans? 

The month of June gets its name from the Latin name for the month which was Junius which in turn is named after the Roman goddess Juno. Juno was the daughter of Saturn and sister and wife to the chief god Jupiter (the ancient immortals were prone to incest. I suppose it comes from having so few immortals to choose from!)  Juno was the patron goddess of Rome and the Roman Empire she was called Regina ("queen") and, together with Jupiter and Minerva their daughter she was worshipped on the Capitol (Juno Capitolina) in Rome. As well as being the goddess of marriage she was also the goddess who watched over the finances of the empire and her temple on the Arx (one of two Capitoline hills), was the Roman mint, so she had her hands on the purse strings too.

In ancient Rome, the period from mid-May through mid-June was considered inauspicious for marriage. Ovid says that he consulted the Flaminica Dialis, the high priestess of Jupiter, about setting a date for his daughter's wedding, and was advised to wait till after June 15. Plutarch, however, implies that the entire month of June was more favourable for weddings than May. This may have been because there are several meteor showers disturbing the heavens in May. So it seems that the Roman’s were not too keen on June weddings despite the name of the month.

Was it the Medievals?

There is a popular belief that the tradition of June brides in northern Europe began in 1500s and that it is associated with bathing. Folklore dictates that the common people took a bath once a year, in May, when the weather was warm enough for a young person to take off their clothes and wash and that with this annual grooming ritual out of the way they could get on with the business of marriage and mating.

It is certainly true that many people, especially the poor, covered their chests in goose fat and sewed themselves into their clothes for the winter in an effort to ward off the cold and diseases. They were then cut out of them in the spring when they washed, the fetid clothes were burned and new ones were put on. Which must have made anyone feel better and smell more fragrant. Of course there is no denying that a clean vest is better than a rancid one if you’re after a bit of loving but it’s hardly enough to get someone to the altar.

In her book, A General View of the Rural Economy of England, 1538-1840 (CUP, 1990), Ann Kussmaul concludes that there was no immutable season for English weddings, they happened at all times of year but having said that she goes on to identify a trend but it was not for weddings in June even though the term 'honeymoon' referred to the first moon of after the summer solstice on June 21, a term which became synonymous with 'time following the wedding.'  

Was it the weather?

It seems that our ancestors got married either in early spring before the main agricultural work of the year had begun or in the autumn when it was over. What is more it seems also that after dancing around the Maypole and having a bath our ancestors were prone to a bit of illicit frolicking in the hay. 

Over the summer months when our young ancestors were clean and fragment and they could get out into the fields and woods away from their parents’ supervision they frequently got themselves pregnant. So their romantic frolics under the summer sun and the honeyed moon led them to altar in the autumn and christenings in spring.

So perhaps June was the most romantic month. It was a time when young people discovered each other, discovered sex, formed bonds that would last the rest of their lives. Today a June a wedding is a beautiful thing whether it's in Nevis or the local Town Hall.

See my collection of 18th century inspired wedding dresses and gowns 

https://uk.pinterest.com/juliaherdman107/

Join me on Facebook 

https://www.facebook.com/julia.herdman.96

What should a respectable widow wear?

By the late 19th century, mourning behaviour in England had developed into a complex set of rules, particularly among the upper classes. For women, the customs involved wearing heavy, concealing, black clothing, and the use of heavy veils of black crêpe. The entire ensemble was colloquially known as "widow's weeds" (from the Old English waed, meaning "garment").

The growing wealth of the eighteenth century aristocracy set the trend for the flamboyant expression of loss and grief with masses of black bombazine silk, ostrich feathers and bows.

But older and poorer women choose a much simpler, more practical styles and with the growth of the urban middle class, particularly in Britain the demand for dull, black, mourning wools, black and white silk crepe increased as incomes and social expectations rose.

Black however was not the only acceptable colour for grief. In the portrait below we see a woman holding a portrait of her dead husband wearing white with a black lace collar and bonnet. Mauve was also an acceptable colour. 

The wearing of mourning clothes was more of a social necessity for women than men. Whilst men might wear a special suit of sombre clothing for the actual funeral they were rarely expected to wear special clothes or colours unlike women who were expected to show the world their change in status for at least a year and a day.

Of course many women wanted show respect to their dead husbands and continued to wear sombre colours for the rest of their lives. Indeed Charlotte Leadam the heroine of my first novel Sinclair is a young widow and faces this very problem.  As she waits for her husband's creditors to present their accounts, she is, "wearing her new mourning clothes; a respectable but uncomplicated widow's cap and a full length black cloak both in black bombazine silk. The silk was not shiny like taffeta but had a sombre, matte finish that seemed to drain the colour from her face making her look even more wan and tired than she actually was."

"Wearing black crepe was the only acceptable thing to do for a woman in her position and she would have to wear it in public for a minimum period of one year and one day. After that she could choose wear subdued colours such as browns and greys, purples, lilacs, lavenders, and even white."

"But today was the first time that she had appeared in her widow's clothes in public and by this act she was acknowledging that her life had changed forever. It was a sign to the world that she was respecting her husband’s memory but it also told anyone who was interested that she was irreparably damaged, that she was half spent or half dead inside and that she was lonely and vulnerable. To wear anything else would indicate that she was a heartless harlot but she hated the loathsome colour; it reminded her of her loss and it told the world that she was alone.”

In a world where a woman became her husband’s property on marriage and where a middle class widow could not enter the professions to support herself signalling this change in marital status could have its advantages showing men that they were available for marriage again.

Julia Herdman’s debut novel Sinclair will be available later this year.

Julia Herdman’s debut novel Sinclair will be available later this year.

The Unfortunate Captain Peirce: When is a Hero not a Hero?

The wreck of the 'Halsewell', Indiaman, 1786, Thomas Stothard

Two and twenty years ago the merchant marine got its first hero; Captain Richard Peirce of the ill-fated East Indiaman the Halsewell. The ship which left Gravesend docks on the first day of January 1786 with a manifest of 240 people and was wrecked six days later of the Dorset coast with the loss of over 170 lives. The tragedy rocked the nation to its core and the ship’s captain became a national hero with stories and eulogies[1] appearing the London press and magazines like The Gentleman and The European praising his self-sacrifice for the sake of his family. The ship was not the first to go down and it certainly was not the last but this wreck captured the nation’s imagination for some reason.

Built by Wells of Blackwall in 1778 the 758 ton ship was on route to Madras armed with 12 cannon and carrying a cargo of 53 chests of small arms, 25 tons of copper plate, 500 tons of lead for shot, and general merchandise including pitch, grindstones, tar, chains and bellows but the main consignment was the men of the 2^nd Battalion and the 42^nd Regiment of the East India Company’s army who were being sent to replace men lost in Company’s war with the last mogul emperor with any clout, Hydra Ali, three years earlier.

 In addition to these soldiers the Haleswell has civilian passengers, including the two daughters Eliza and Mary-Ann; and two nieces of the captain Amy and Mary Paul, a Miss Elizabeth Blackburn,a  Miss Mary Haggard, a Miss Ann Mansell and a Mr John Shultz. The first mate, Thomas Burston, was a member of the Peirce family and was also lost in the incident. None of the women were able to escape and were among about 170 who died in the ship, which disintegrated within two hours of striking the rocky promontory. 

The Loss of the Haleswell, J.M.W Turner.

Accounts[2] given by two surviving officers Meriton and Rogers said that Peirce heroically remained with them and is shown on the right of the painting above, seated between and comforting his daughters. Meriton and Rogers stand on the left, on the point of departure, as calm observers of the group.

During the eighteenth century a number of men achieved the status of national hero, the most famous of them being the legendary Captain James Cook (1728-1779), the man who spent his life exploring and mapping; Newfoundland, Australia, the Hawaiian Islands and New Zealand for the British Crown.

During the Seven Years' War, Cook served in North America as master of Pembroke (1757) In 1758 he took part in the major amphibious assault that captured the Fortress of Louisbourg from the French, after which he participated in the siege of Quebec City and then the Battle of the Plains of Abraham in 1759. He showed a talent for surveying and cartography, and was responsible for mapping much of the entrance to the Saint Lawrence River during the siege, thus allowing General Wolfe to make his famous stealth attack on the Plains of Abraham.

In 1766, Admiralty engaged Cook to command a scientific voyage to the Pacific Ocean. The purpose of the voyage was to observe and record the transit of Venus across the Sun for the benefit of Royal Society inquiry into a means of determining longitude. Once the observations were completed, Cook opened his sealed orders and started the second part of his voyage: to search the south Pacific for signs of the postulated rich southern continent of Terra Australis. He sailed around New Zealand and landed on Australian soil on 19 April 1770, and in doing so his expedition became the first recorded Europeans to have encountered its eastern coastline. 

Two years later as the commander of HMS Resolution with his companion ship HMS Adventure he circumnavigated the globe at an extreme southern latitude, becoming one of the first to cross the Antarctic Circle on 17 January 1773.

On his last great voyage Cook was charged with looking for a north-west passage around the American continent. He sailed via Cape Horne and into the Pacific Ocean stopping off at Hawaii and the Sandwich Islands. Cook sailed as far north as Vancouver Island than turned back and was killed in an altercation with the local Hawaiian chief on 14 February 1779.

The Death of Captain James Cook,  Johann Zoffany, circa 1795.

So, how was it that Captain Peirce of the East India Company could be compared with the heroic Cook? 

In the latter part of the eighteenth century as tariffs were lowered on tea, brandy and other luxury goods the amount of smuggling along the coast was at last beginning to fall. Wrecks too were becoming less attractive to looters. The rescuers of the survivors were hailed by the King and the Company provided a reward of 50 guineas for their efforts. The survivors who were mainly crew had to walk all the way back to London through snow and rain, there was no reward for them. In fact the crew were lambasted[3] in some sections of the London press for failing to do their duty and for disobeying their captain and it became a commonly held view that the reason for the disaster was the lax attitude of the crew and their failure to follow their captain’s orders.

Thompson[4] argues that placing Peirce in the company of a man like Cook elevated him to an example of the national character, the embodiment of British courage and virtue in war. But Pierce was not at war and neither was he a servant of the state like Cook and other heroes such as Wolfe and Andre he was engaged in trade and a lucrative one at that. On a successful voyage a captain like Pierce could expect to make £10,000, and extra-ordinary amount of money compared to his pay which would have been something in the order of £300 a year and he was hoping to marry his daughters and nieces to rich officers or merchants along the way. But for a nation hungry for commercial success and wealth Pierce was their man, a jewel in their social crown and an example of familial loyalty and enterprise in the area of the world they were most interested in, India. “In death, Peirce becomes implicitly iconic not only for British courage and manly virtue but also the East India Company’s paternalism and its mission to form stronger bonds of affection and sociability both within British society and between Britain and its colonial dominions.

However, the legal implications of the commonly held view that the crew was the chief cause of the disaster were to have lasting significance for seamen who found themselves under the control of brutal officers, as both commercial owners and the British Crown were able to cite the example of the Halsewell as a reason for the maintenance of strict order, by force if necessary by officers on the lower orders.

The story of the Haleswell (renamed the Sherwell) inspired the beginning of my up- coming novel, Sinclair which will be available later this year.

[]] Monody, On the death of Captain Peirce, 1786.

[2] A circumstantial narrative of the loss of the Halsewell, East-Indiaman .Henry Meriton (second mate of the Halsewell.), John Rogers (third mate of the alsewell.)http://www.responsites.co.uk/halsewell/

[3]The London Recorder, January 15^th, 1786.

[4] Ship Wreck in Art and Literature, Carl Thompson, Routledge, 2013