Princess Victoria and the gypsies, part 2

We’re delighted that you have joined us for the second part of this post. So, following on from part 1 we have managed to tease out a whole list of names that Princess Victoria was given by the gypsies she met at Claremont, so we wanted to explore the family group in more detail to see if we could find out what became of them after their royal encounter.

Firstly, Princess Victoria confirms for us the family name – Cooper  – and that a baby was due to a member of the family very soon. She also told us when the child was born and that she hoped they would name the boy, Francis. The couple in question were Matthew and his wife Eliza (née Lee and aged around 20-years) and sure enough in the baptism register for Cobham appears the child’s entry for 1st January 1837.

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Checking through the newspapers and almost a year later the story of Victoria meeting the gypsies had become somewhat distorted with the child that was born becoming a Walter rather than Francis! Contrary to the newspaper report, as far as we can tell the gypsies did not tell Victoria’s fortune!

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Windsor and Eton Express 25 November 1837

We followed Francis’ life and he lived to a ripe old age, married Alice Ayers and had children, but remained true to his roots living in a tent/caravan for the majority of his life. Princess Victoria would have been delighted to have known that probably through her kindness he survived, despite living outdoors through many a cold winter.

Secondly, Victoria provided information and drawings for another member of the family – Sarah Cooper who had a child, George, but no husband with her. Sarah was baptized at Chalgrove in Oxfordshire on 28th July 1805, the daughter of Richard and Mary Cooper, ‘a gipsey by name‘.

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Sarah Daughter of a gipsy by the name of Richard and Mary Cooper

Her son George was baptized on 4th April 1824 at Upton Grey in Hampshire, the son of Sarah Cooper ‘a travelling woman of Chargrove [sic] Oxfordshire‘. George was known to use White as a surname in later life, so possibly this was his father’s surname.

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Sarah Cooper. Courtesy of the Royal Collection.

Next we have Mary Cooper, who would have been born in the 1780s and was the wife of Richard/Henry Cooper (either the same man going by two different names, or possibly she successively partnered two brothers, something not unknown amongst these families) and pictured here as the matriarch.

She was mother of Sarah, Leonard, Nelson and Matty/Matthew, all of whom were camped at Claremont, and it was Matty’s wife Eliza who was due to give birth very soon. Matty would achieve renown as rat-catcher to Queen Victoria at Windsor; did the queen take a lifelong interest in this family, recognising him as the father of the baby who she had shown such an interest in?

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Mary Cooper dated Dec 31 1836. Courtesy of the Royal Collection.

We travel  back to the early 1800s to a couple born shortly after the turn of the century – Leonard Cooper and his future wife Phyllis (Philadelphia Smith). The couple lived as man and wife for some considerable time but finally tied the knot on April 20th 1851, Leonard named at his marriage as the son of Henry Cooper, a horse dealer and Philadelphia the daughter of John Smith, a rat catcher; a Caroline Smith was a witness. Leonard’s brother was Matty/Matthew Cooper, rat catcher.

Leonard and Phyllis travelled around Surrey and Berkshire selling their wares, so would have been well known within those communities. The couple produced several children including Job, Nelson (named for Leonard’s brother), Diana and Thomas, who was a young babe in December 1836. As the children grew up they too married and began to travel around the same patch along with their families.

Job married Selina, Nelson married General Buckland; Diana married a Henry Hazard and Thomas, a Sarah Coleman in 1855 at Christchurch St Marylebone.

Gypsy families are notoriously difficult to find in census returns as they were either ignored by the officials collecting the information, or they themselves chose to remain ‘under the radar’ so either conveniently disappeared on census day or gave inaccurate information. It is quite common to find a group of people at the end of a census return who don’t know their name, age or place of birth!

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Phyllis Cooper and her son, Nelson. Courtesy of the Royal Collection.

Of the children in the picture below with Sarah we have been able to identify Nelson, Job and Dinah (Diana) as children of Leonard and Phyllis, and Britannia was the daughter of Leonard’s brother Nelson and his wife Isabella.

We’re sure that someone out there will be able to help us trace Emmeline and the possible Helen (could she possibly be Misella, another of Nelson and Isabella’s daughters?).

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Courtesy of the Royal Collection.

Misella was born c.1832, possibly in London, Britannia was baptized 13th January 1833 at Putney and in the June of 1835 the couple baptized a son, Dangerfield. The young Princess Victoria doesn’t name Isabella in her journals, but did meet her and noted that she had a baby; possibly this was the eighteen month old Dangerfield.

If you have enjoyed this, why not check out our book, A Right Royal Scandal, which shows how, but for a young Romany girl, our present day royal family might look very different indeed!

 

Sources:

Gypsy Genealogy

Header image: 

Visite à Claremont House, 1844 from the Government Art Collection.

 

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Princess Victoria and the gypsies, part 1

So far we have written several pieces about Romany gipsies as their stories have popped up during our research when writing A Right Royal Scandal which is a true story showing the family connection between the Romany community and the British royal family.

A Right Royal Scandal: Two Marriages That Changed History by Joanne Major and Sarah Murden. https://www.amazon.co.uk/Right-Royal-Scandal-Marriages-Changed/dp/1473863422

In this, the first of two posts (our second being on Thursday), we’re going to wander slightly out of our usual Georgian era to take a look at a specific gipsy family and their connection to Princess Victoria, just a few months before she became queen.

Given the length of this post, we will be running the second part on Thursday. In today’s post we will simply recount Princess Victoria’s journal entries from exactly 180 years ago this week and on Thursday we will piece together more about the family she encountered and their Georgian origins.

Princess Victoria by Henry Collen, 1836. Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2016
Princess Victoria by Henry Collen, 1836.
Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2016

Still today, gipsy communities can often have a ‘bad press’ or are people to be mocked for living a different lifestyle to most people and for speaking their own language, one unique to their community. This would undoubtedly have been the same in young Princess Victoria’s day, however, her own view was very different, she took the time to learn about the gipsy community and to spend time with them.

Whilst reading her journal it becomes very clear that these gipsies held a very special place in her heart. They were travellers who had set up camp near Claremont from December 1836 to early January 1837 just a few years before her coronation and then her marriage to Prince Albert. She records her every meeting with the family and even drew pictures of them.

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Mary and Eliza Cooper dated Dec 1836. Pencil, watercolour, ink | RCIN 980013.k. Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2016

Wednesday 7th December

We met the same two Gipsies as the other day accompanied by another very pretty one, who, the young one of the other day told us, was her sister-in-law, & was in daily expectation of her confinement; the old woman, she told us the other day, was her mother; her own name, she said was Cooper. They are encamped on the Portsmouth road now, where we walk every day

Sunday 11th December

At 2 we went out with dear Lehzen & Victoire & came home at ½ p.3. We saw our Gipsy friends peeping out of their frail abode of canvass. They certainly are a “Hard-faring race”.

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Sarah Cooper dated Jan 2, 1837. Pencil, watercolour, ink | RCIN 980013.p. Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2016

Thursday 15th December

Since Monday, or rather more Tuesday, the Gipsy encampments have been enlarged by 2 tents. As we were walking along the road near to the Tents, the woman who said she was called Cooper, & who is generally the spokeswoman of the party, stepped across the road from the tents, & as we turned & stopped, came up to us with a whole swarm of children, six I think. It was a singular, & yet a pretty & picturesc sight. She herself with nothing on her head, her raven hair hanging untidily about her fine countenance, & a dingy dark green cloak hung on one side of her shoulders, while the set of little brats swarming round her, with dark disheveled hair & dark dresses, all little things & all beautiful children. She spoke to Lehzen & said they were the children of her two brothers, & “I am aunt to all these”. She said her name was Sarah & she then proceeded to name all the children of which I remember only 5. Dinah, Job, Britannia, Emmeline, & I think Helen. Britannia is a beautiful little large black eyed thing, with a dirty face which was wiped to be shown off. Sarah, then pointed to her own boy, called George, her only child, who was carrying another little nephew named Nelson, on his back. The pretty sister-in-law is not mother of these children, for she is only 20 & has none as yet. We had not proceeded far before we met the old Mother Gipsy, the pretty sister-in-law, & two other sisters-in-law, each with a baby in her arms, one of whom is very pretty; they are the mothers of the children, “Aunt Sarah” was displaying to us. – The Gipsies are a curious, peculiar & very hardy race, unlike any other!

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A watercolour showing the Traveller Sarah Cooper with a group of children. They are all shown full-length facing forward. Inscribed below: Gipsy woman and children near Claremont. From Recollection. (The woman called Sarah Cooper and the children (her nephews and nieces) called: Dinah, Job, Britannia, Emmeline, Helen &c.). Inscribed lower left: P.V. del. Claremont. Dec 1836. Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2016

Saturday 17th December

As we passed the Encampment, the old Gipsy woman came out accompanied by Dinah & Emmeline, & produced from under her cloak the poor little baby, an uncommonly fine though small child for a day old only! – At a ¼ p.2 dear Lehzen, Victoire & I went out & came home at ½ p.3. One of the other Gipsy daughters-in-law was walking on the other side of the road, she is also very pretty though not the prettiest of the two new ones. Played on the piano. – Wrote my journal. – Read to Lehzen out of the Irish History. – Read in or rather looked over, (for I have read it through before) “The Gipsies’ advocate” by James Crabb. – It is a very pretty, pious little book, & is full of very curious, & some very touching anecdotes of these poor people. They have originally no religion, but many have been reformed by kind Clergymen & other people. – There are societies formed for reforming them. Their conjugal, filial, & paternal affection is very great, as also their kindness & attention to their sick, old, or infirm. Their morals too are almost always very pure, with the exception of an addiction to petty thefts & fortune-telling.

Saturday, 24th December – Xmas Eve

I awoke after 7 and got up at 8. After 9 we breakfasted. At a little after 10 we left Kensington with dearest Lehzen, Lady Conroy, and – Dashy! and reached Claremont at a ¼ to 12. Played and sung. At 2 dearest Lehzen, Victoire and I went out and came home at 20 minutes p.3. No one was stirring about the Gipsy encampment except George, which I was sorry for, as I was anxious to know how our poor friends were after this bitterly cold night.

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Eliza Cooper dated Jan 10 1837. Pencil, watercolour, ink | RCIN 980013.q. Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2016

Sunday, 25th December- Xmas Day

I awoke after 7 and got up at 8. At 9 we all breakfasted. Mamma, Lehzen, and I read prayers. Arranged my new drawings. At a little before 2 dearest Lehzen, Victoire and I went out and came home at 3. As we were approaching the camp, we met Rea coming from it, who had been sent there by Mamma to enquire into the story of these poor wanderers. He told us (what I was quite sure of before) that all was quite true, that the poor young woman and baby were doing very well, though very weak and miserable and that what they wanted chiefly was fuel and nourishment. Mamma has ordered broth and fuel to be sent tonight, as also 2 blankets; and several of our people have sent old flannel things for them. Mamma has ordered that the broth and fuel is to be sent each day til the woman is recovered. Lehzen sent them by our footmen a little worsted knit jacket for the poor baby, and when we drove by, Aunt Sarah, the old woman and the Husband all looked out and bowed most gratefully. Rea gave them directly a sovereign. I cannot say how happy I am, that these poor creatures are assisted, for they are such a nice set of Gipsies, so quiet, so affectionate to one another, so discreet, not at all forward or importunate, and so grateful; so unlike the gossiping, fortune-telling race-gipsies; and this is such a peculiar and touching case. Their being assisted makes me quite merry and happy today, for yesterday night when I was safe and happy at home in that cold night and today when it snowed so and everything looked white, I felt quite unhappy and grieved to think that our poor gipsy friends should perish and shiver for want; and now today I shall go to bed happy, knowing they are better off and more comfortable. – Arranged drawings. Wrote my journal. At 6 we dined. Sir Robert and Lady Gardiner and Victoire and Emily Gardiner dined here. Sang and also Mamma a little. Stayed up till 10. I heard that the poor Gipsies were in ecstasies at what they received, which consisted of broth and wood (which as I before said they are to receive every day till the poor young woman is recovered) and the bundle of things, the blankets not being quite ready. I went to bed with a light heart, knowing these poor good people were better off and would not feel the cold quite so much.

Monday, 26th December

…  I heard that the Gipsy mother and little baby were better and very thankful for the blankets &c.,&c. they had got, and felt very comfortable with a large fire in spite of the deep snow and great cold. The baby is to be called Francis and was to have been christened on Sunday only they came too late.

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The baptism of Francis took place on 1st January 1837 at Cobham.

Wednesday, 28th December

 At 12 dearest Lehzen, Victoire, and I went out and came home at 2. Everything covered with deep snow, and we were compelled to walk in the middle of the road, and very slippy rough walking it was. Aunt Sarah came out of the encampment looking very handsome with the poor little baby in her arms, as also the old woman with nothing on her head, and were very grateful for the blankets &c. we had sent them. Whatever may be the faults of this singular and wandering people and of these in particular, ingratitude and want of affection for one another are not amongst them, for they are most grateful I must say.

Thursday, 29th December

At 12 we went out with dear Lehzen and came home at 2. Everything still looked very white and the ground rather slippery but not so much so as yesterday. It snowed part of the time we were walking. I saw Aunt Sarah and the least pretty of the two sisters-in-law, who has returned, in a shop in Esher. How I do wish I could do something for their spiritual and mental benefit and for the education of their children and in particular for the poor little baby who I have known since its birth, in the admirable manner Mr. Crabb in his Gipsies’ Advocate” so strongly urges; he beseeches and urges those who have kind hearts and Christian feelings to think of these poor wanderers, who have many good qualities and who have many good people amongst them. He says, and alas! I too well know, its truth, from experience, that whenever any poor Gipsies are encamped anywhere and crimes and robberies &c. occur, it is invariably laid to their account, which is shocking; and if they are always looked upon as vagabonds, how can they become good people? I trust in Heaven that the day may come when I may do something for these poor people, and for this particular family! I am sure, that the little kindness which they have experienced from us will have a good and lasting effect on them!

Friday, 30th December

After 12 we dear Lehzen and I went out and came home at 20 minutes to 12. When we passed the encampment the old woman came out and told Lehzen that she had called twice at the lodge yesterday and today and had got no soup. Poor thing! there have been some misunderstandings and confusions I am sorry to say. But they have got blankets, old clothes and some money and I trust and really think they are as comfortable as poor Gipsies generally are. She further said that the young woman & baby were going on well; that they were all Coopers and the young woman, who was her daughter-in-law, was called Eliza Lee before her marriage; and that her own daughter Sarah had no husband, which she said looking down sadly, and that little George was Sarah’s only child. She has a singular clever but withered countenance herself, with not one grey hair, and is very respectful and well-bred in her manner.

Thursday, 5th January

At a little after 12 dear Lehzen and I went out and came home at 20 minutes p.1. When we approached the spot where the Gipsy encampment was, all, all was gone, vanished, and the only trace left of them was their litter of straw! So sudden and mysterious are their arrivals and departures, that one day they may appear settled for a long while in their tents and the next morning there may be no vestige of them left. Poor people, I am so glad we have done them good; they were such a nice set of Gipsies. I am quite certain that they had settled their departure when they came out to see us last Sunday, and were therefore not so sorry when we said we should see them no more, which was too true! I hope I shall see them one day again and then be able to do more real good for them. We met in walking homewards a Gipsy and a boy both on horseback; the man was remarkably handsome and independent looking; had a grey hat, trousers and gaiters on, a green jacket and a bright red handkerchief tied loosely round his neck; he looked quite Italian like; the boy had a black beaver hat on with a pipe in his mouth. I should think they were some relations of our friends; probably of the same clan, the Coopers.

Sunday, 8th January

At 12 dear Lehzen and I went out and came home at 10 minutes p.1. It is today a week that we took leave of our poor good friends the Gipsies and I am quite sorry when I pass the spot so long enlivened by their little camp, and behold it empty and deserted and with almost no trace to be seen of their ever having been there. They had been there more than a month, for they encamped there about 5 days after we arrived here and have been there ever since until last Wednesday or Thursday. To my feeling, the chief ornament of the Portsmouth road is gone since their departure. But this is their life; they are happy and grateful and we have done them some good. The place and spot may be forgotten, but the Gipsy family Cooper will never be obliterated from my memory!

Thursday,12th January

I forgot to mention that one of the nice qualities of my Gipsy friends was, their cleanliness; for they were to be seen almost every day drying their washed things, not only their linen, but their handkerchiefs, cloaks &c. I am sorry I did not see the pretty young woman who was confined, again; I should so have liked to have seen her. What a hardy race they must be, when I consider how this young woman and poor innocent little babe bore the late very severe cold; I really think the wood and blankets we sent them kept them alive. She seemed a very strong person, as they all are, for she used generally to go every day before her confinement to the village which was full a mile and a half from their camp, and back again, and the last time I met her, the morning of the day before her confinement, how pretty and well she was looking only a little tired; I saw her even about the camp (at a distance) in the afternoon too.

Tuesday, 14th February

I quite forgot to mention that when on Sunday I walked for the last time on my favourite nice Portsmouth road, that I still beheld the litter of straw which was the only vestige of our poor good Gipsy friends who will never never be forgotten. Aunt Sarah, Eliza Cooper, old Mary Cooper, the poor dear little baby, the host of children, and the two other sisters-in-law, are quite present in my mind; I can see and hear them!

If you have enjoyed reading this, please click on this link to find out more about this fascinating gipsy family.

Source

Queen Victoria’s Journals

 

A View of Lincoln Cathedral from the West by Joseph Baker, 1742; The Collection: Art and Archaeology in Lincolnshire (Usher Gallery).

Lincoln Cathedral: Georgian renovations

There are many reasons to visit Lincoln and when you do, the one place you can’t avoid is the magnificent cathedral that dominates the Lincoln skyline. As we both live in the county we thought we really should write a bit about it. So let’s begin with its dimensions:lincoln-cathedral-dimensions

The foundations of the cathedral were laid in 1088, and as with any building, maintenance is required over the years and of course, the cathedral has been no exception. Today we thought we would take a look at what renovations those Georgians undertook.

In 1762 the centre window of coloured glass at the East end was executed by Mr Picket of York.

1775 The embattlement on the top of the Broad Tower was designed by Mr Essex of Cambridge and erected under his directions. The same eminent architect was employed in various extensive repairs to the edifice, particularly the roof; he also added the pointed arch with open balustrade which connects the two first pillars of the nave (a little in advance of the centre door in the West Front); and constructed the present Altar Screen.

1782 The floor of the church was newly paved, which occasioned the removal of many monuments that had escaped the ravages of time, fanaticism and mischief; and of the greater part of the inscribed gravestones. The new paving was certainly necessary and is a great improvement, but it is in consequence rendered very difficult to trace the graves of many of the learned and pious men who are there deposited.

1793 The Roman Pavement discovered several feet below the surface, in the centre of the Cloister Quadrangle. Steps descend to it, for the accommodation of visitors; and a brick shed has been built round to protect it from the weather.

1800 The Altar Piece was painted by Mr Peters, Prebendary of Langford Ecclesia.

The Stamford Mercury, 19 July 1805 reports details of the theft of Communion Plate

On Sunday morning the cathedral church of this city was discovered to have been robbed of the whole of the communion plate, consisting of several massy silver vessels, the value of which is supposed to exceed 500l. The last time the plate was seen was on Tuesday se’nnight, when the person who had it under his care sent a little boy with the keys to show it to a stranger. The robbers must have picked five locks, and there is no appearance of violence on any of them, four of them being re-shot. Everything proves this sacrilegious transaction to have resulted from a pre-concerted and well-digested plan. What occasions much conversation is, the circumstances of a convict in the city goal (lately a dragoon solider) having intimated to the gaoler who a few weeks ago conveyed him to the hulks at Woolwich, that ‘no long time would elapse before a great building Above-hill, and the warehouse of an eminent draper in Lincoln would be robbed by two persons, one of who was well know, and little suspected to be capable of such a transaction’. In consequence of this information which Mr. Tuke, the gaoler, divulged o his return to Lincoln, Mr. Smith, who was the draper alluded to, and fortunately paid to the assertion to the convict more attention that it was generally though worthy of, had new locks and bars put upon the doors of his valuable warehouse, and the robbery of the cathedral has proved with what well-employed caution. Proper persons have been sent from Lincoln to obtain what further intelligence respecting this mysterious affair it is possible to extort from the convict dragoon.

Lincoln Cathedral, from the west by Augustus Charles Pugin (1762-1832) © Whitworth Art Gallery
Lincoln Cathedral, from the west by Augustus Charles Pugin (1762-1832)
© Whitworth Art Gallery

 1807 The two Western spires which were made of timber and lead were taken down. The Norfolk Chronicle, 22 August 1807 reported:

It is determined to remove form that noble pile, Lincoln Cathedral, the two spires which surmounted St Hugh’s and St Mary’s Towers. Although necessity may require this the picturesque effects of that fine building will be greatly injured by it.

Lincoln Cathedral, from the Castle Moat, Peter De Wint 1784-1849 Bequeathed by John Henderson 1879 http://www.tate.org.uk/art/work/N03479
Lincoln Cathedral, from the Castle Moat, Peter De Wint 1784-1849, Tate (as you can see, the spires have been removed by the time of this painting).

1824 The ancient service of Communion Plate having been some years before sacrilegiously stolen from the Vestry, the present splendid Service was presented to the church.

Also in 1824 repairs were needed according to the Stamford Mercury on 29 October.

The high winds of Tuesday blew off one of the weathercocks from the broad tower of Lincoln Cathedral, as well as the ponderous ball on which it stood. The ball fell with great force on the roof of the church making a large aperture in the lead, but was prevented from going through the stone-groined roof below by the strength of the rafters. The vane fell to the ground near to the cloisters. It is the north-east pinnacle, which has thus suffered; it is feared that the tops of the other three pinnacles are in nearly the same decayed state.

Lincoln. Courtesy of the Royal Collection
Lincoln. Courtesy of the Royal Collection

Bell’s Weekly Messenger 9 May 1825:

For the magnificent Minster at Lincoln, a large and splendid organ is now building in London, which has been already performed upon by professors, and has been pronounced equal in power and superior in many points to any in the United Kingdom. The Rev. the Dean has also presented the Minster with a set of communion plate to the value of 1,000l. It is silver chased and gilt, and is similar to that which the King has ordered for his private chapel at Windsor.

1826 The new organ erected by the Dean and Chapter was opened, the church having previously undergone a thorough cleaning.

December 1827 Great Tom of Lincoln was found to be ‘cracked’ and unfit or duty to the great regret of the inhabitants of the ancient city. In 1834 it was broken up and a new one made to replace it. This was the bell that hung in St Mary’s Tower at the West End or Front of the Cathedral (St Mary’s is one tower, the other is St Hugh’s).

And, to finish, we came across this curious article for which can offer no explanation.

Extract of a Letter from M. Johnson Esq.; to William Bogdani Esq.; concerning an extraordinary Interment.

In a letter to me from Mr. Symson, master of the works of the cathedral of Lincoln, dated 28 September last, I was informed that, in digging a grave at the west end of that church, they opened the foot of an ancient sepulcher – the corpse was sewed up in a strong tanned leather hide, the seam running up the middle of the breast. I should suppose it to be some great lay lord, before the custom prevailed of laying them within the church itself.

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Courtesy of Visit Lincoln

An augmented reality app is being designed which will allow users to experience the history of the cathedral spires giving them a taste of the height they once were before their removal in the early 1800s, in relation to the well-known building today.

Sources:

A Guide Through  Lincoln Cathedral

Archaeologia: or miscellaneous tracts relating to antiquity. Published by the Society of Antiquaries of London. The second edition. Volume 1. 1779

Feature image:

Baker, Joseph; A View of Lincoln Cathedral from the West; The Collection: Art & Archaeology in Lincolnshire (Usher Gallery)

Sketches of the Fair Sex

So what were the women of the eighteenth-century like? Well, we came across this publication ‘Sketches of the Fair Sex’ written about eighteenth-century women, so we thought we would share with you a few extracts about the author’s view of women across Europe, although the book provides descriptions and anecdotes from around the world in 1799 plus much, much more!  It is not clear as to whether the author was male or female, the author simply described themself as being ‘a friend of the sex’. Please remember these are the author’s views alone and were probably meant to be complimentary when written over 200 years ago!

French Women

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Portrait of Marie Gabrielle de Gramont, Duchesse de Caderousse , 1784 Louise Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun

No women upon earth can excel, and few rival them, in their almost native arts of pleasing all who approach them. Add to this, an education beyond that of most Europeans ladies, a consummate skill in those accomplishments that suit the fair sex and the most graceful manner of displaying that knowledge to the utmost advantage.  Such is the description that may be safely given of the French ladies in general. But the spirit, or rather the evil genius of gallantry, too often perverts all these lovely qualities and renders then subservient to very iniquitous ends. In every country, women have always a little to do and a great deal to say. In France, they dictate almost everything that is said and direct everything that is done. They are the most restless beings in the world. To fold her hands in idleness and impose silence on her tongue would be to a French woman worse than death. The sole joy of her life is to be engaged in the prosecution of some scheme, relating to either fashion, ambition or love.  Among the rich and opulent, they are entirely the votaries of pleasure, which they pursue through all its labyrinths, at the expense of fortune, reputation and health. Giddy and extravagant to the last degree, they leave to their husbands’ economy and care, which would only spoil their complexions and furrow their brows.

When we descend to tradesmen and mechanics the case is reversed: the wife manages everything in the house and shop, while the husband lounges in the back shop, an idle spectator or struts about with his sword and bag-wig.

Matrimony, among the French, seems to be a bargain entered into by a male and female to bear the same name, live in the same house, and pursue their separate pleasures without restrain or control.

Italian Women

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Pietro Rotari (Italian, 1707-1762) Portrait of a Young Woman, ca. 1760 Courtesy of Indiana University Art Museum

Almost every traveller, who has visited Italy, agrees in describing it as the most abandoned of all the countries of Europe.  At Venice, at Naples and indeed in almost every part of Italy, women are taught from their infancy the various arts of alluring to their arms the young and unwary, and of obtaining from them, while heated by love or wine, everything that flattery and false smiles can obtain, in these unguarded moments.

The Italian ladies are not quite so fay and volatile as the French, nor do they so much excite the risibility of the spectator; but, by the softness of their language and their manner, they more forcibly engage the heart.

They are not so much the chameleon or the weathercock, but have some decent degree of permanency in the connections, whether of love or friendship. With regard to jealousy, they are so far from being careless and indifferent, in that respect, as the French are, that they often suffer it to transport them to the most unwarrantable actions.

An Italian female of birth and fortune, bred in the prison of a cloister, is brought forth when marriageable to receive her sentence; and conducted like a victim to the altar, there to be made a sacrifice of to a man whom she hardly knows the face. Among them, we find none of those antecedent homages of a lover, none of those engaging proofs of attachment, which only can secure a reciprocation. In short, no medium of courtship intervenes, and therefore no opportunity is given to create an affection on either side.

Spanish Women

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Charles IV of Spain and His Family, 1800 by Francisco Goya – Museo del Prado

As the Spanish ladies are under greater seclusion from general society, than the sex is in other European countries, their desires of an adequate degree of liberty are consequently more strong and urgent. A free and open communication being denied them, they make it their business to secure themselves a secret and hidden one. The Spanish women are little or nothing indebted to education. But nature has liberally supplied them with a fund of wit and sprightliness, which is certainly no small inducement, to those who have only transient glimpses of their charms, to wish every earnestly for a removal of those impediments, that obstruct their more frequent preference.

Unlike French women, their affections are not to be gained by a bit of sparkling lace or a tawdry set of liveries. Their deportment is rather grave and reserved, and on the whole, they have much more of the prude than the coquette in their composition.

Something more than a century ago, the Marquis D’Astrogas having prevailed on a young lady of great beauty to become his mistress, the Marchioness hearing of it, went to her lodgings with some assassins, killed her, tore out her heart, carried it home, made a ragout of it, and presented the dish to the Marquis “it is exceedingly good” said he. “No wonder” she answered, “since it is made of the heart of that creature you so much doted on”. And, to confirm what she had said, she immediately drew out her head all bloody from beneath her hoop and rolled it on the floor, he eyes sparkling all of the time with a mixture of pleasure and fury.

English Women

Portrait by George Romney, Young Woman in Powder Blue c1777

The women of England are eminent for many good qualities both of the head and of the heart. There we meet with that inexpressible softness and delicacy of manners which cultivated by education, appears as much superior to what it does without it, as the polished diamond appears superior to that which is rough from the mine. In some parts of the world, women have attained so little knowledge, and so little consequence, that we consider their virtues as merely of the negative kind. In England the consist not only in abstinence from evil but in doing good.

There we see the sex every day exerting themselves in acts of benevolence and charity, in relieving the distresses of the body, and binding up the wounds of the mind; in reconciling the differences of friends and preventing the strife of enemies; and, to sum up all, in that care and attention to their offspring, which is so necessary and essential a part of their duty.

The English women are by no means indifferent about public affairs. Their interesting themselves in these gives a new pleasure to social life. The husband always finds at home somebody to whom he can open himself, and converse as long and as earnestly as he thinks proper, upon those subjects which he mad most at heart.

Russian Women

Russian School; The Empress Catherine the Great of Russia (1729-1796); The Bowes Museum; http://www.artuk.org/artworks/the-empress-catherine-the-great-of-russia-17291796-44277
Russian School; The Empress Catherine the Great of Russia (1729-1796); The Bowes Museum

It is only a few years since the Russians emerged from a state of barbarity. A late Empress of Russia, as a punishment for some female frailties, ordered a most beautiful young lady of a family to be publicly chastised, in a manner which was hardly less indelicate than severe.

It is said that the Russian ladies were formerly as submissive to their husbands in their families, as the latter are to their superiors in the field; and that they thought themselves ill-treated if they were not often reminded of their duty by the discipline of a whip, manufactured by themselves, which they presented to their husbands on the day of their marriage.

The Swan and the Prince

We are delighted to welcome a new guest to our blog, Julia Herdman. Julia is a history graduate who has always wanted to write novels. Her debut novel, Sinclair tells the story of a Scottish Surgeon who escapes death in a shipwreck on 6th January 1786. Having broken all his ties with Scotland and left the woman he loves to make his fortune Sinclair is forced back to London where he is introduced to a young widow, Charlotte Leadam, the owner of an apothecary shop in Tooley Street. As their business grows their relationship blossoms but when his old flame unexpectedly turns up in Tooley Street, everything he has been building is thrown into jeopardy. Before he can reclaim Charlotte’s heart, he will be tested, punished cruelly, accused of incest, and forced to face his greatest fear, the sea, once more.  Sinclair will be available to buy in the New Year.

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Princess Dorothea von Lieven (1785 – 1857) by Sir Thomas Lawrence, circa 1813

Today, she is going to tell us about Princess Dorothea von Lieven (1785 – 1857) who was the wife of Prince Khristofor Andreyevich Lieven, Russian ambassador to London from 1812 to 1834. Considered cold and snobbish by London Society Dorothea was not an instant success when she arrived fresh from the Russian court.

Princess Dorothea von Lieven (1785 – 1857) c.1814 by unknown artist showing her long neck.
Princess Dorothea von Lieven (1785 – 1857) c.1814 by unknown artist showing her long neck.

Her long elegant neck earned her the nickname, “the swan” by those who loved her and “the giraffe” by those who did not. Reputation did not bother her however; she was not after friendship she was after power and she used all her intelligence, charisma, and social skills to get what influence she could for the Tsar and the Holy Alliance in negotiations concerning the defeat of Napoleon and reestablishment of absolutist monarchy in Europe.  Not only did she become the Austrian Chancellor, Prince Metternich’s lover she was also reputed to have had affairs or at least very close friendships with Lord Palmerston, Lord Castlereagh and Lord Grey while she was in London.

Prince of Metternich-Winneburg-Beilstein; (1773 – 1859)

Her hard work paid off and soon invitations to Dorothea’s home became the most sought after in capital. She was the first foreigner to be elected a patroness of Almack’s where she is said to have introduced the waltz, a dance considered riotous and indecent, to England, during Tsar Alexander’s visit in 1814. It was during that visit she first met Metternich. It seems 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.

Tsar Alexander I by G.Dawe, 1826

Some four years later, the pair met again at the Dutch Ambassador’s party at Aix-La-Chappelle. Sitting next to each other they found they had much in common – they both hated Napoleon.  Their notorious liaison began a few days later when Dorothea entered the Prince’s apartment incognito.

In Metternich Dorothea had found her equal, a man 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. 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.”

1822 caricature of the Holy Alliance trampling those demanding democracy under their feet while nursing the infant state of Prussia

Their heated, clandestine affair soon succumbed to the requirements state; they met occasionally but corresponded frequently. Like many illicit lovers, they were tortured by their separation and the knowledge they could never be together.

Dorothea was well aware of Metternich’s reputation as a libertine seducer but she continued the relationship for eight years until she heard he had thrown her over for a younger woman. Desolate, she broke off their relationship in 1826. By the end references to Metternich in her letters were cold and spiteful and it seems 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.”

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Waltzing at Almack’s, George Cruikshank, 1817, Comic Book History. British Museum

She ended her days in Paris as the ‘wife’ of the French politician Guizot. It was said that although  she was a widow she refused to marry Guizot because it would mean giving up her title ‘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 died peacefully at her home in Paris, aged 71, in January 1857. She is a recurring minor figure in many historical novels, notably those of Georgette Heyer. Heyer 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 aged 86 the last guardian of the ancien regime, which had long since passed into history.

 

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

Wikipedia: Klemens von Metternick

Eurozine: Women at the Congress of Vienna

The New Female Coterie

We are delighted to welcome the Georgian Gentleman, aka Mike Rendell,  who like us, writes a blog about all things Georgian.  Mike’s book In bed with the Georgians: Sex Scandal & Satire in the 18th Century has just been published by Pen and Sword Books and is available at a discounted price direct from the publisher.

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We will now hand you over to Mike to tell you more about the female coterie:

Caroline, Countess of Harrington
Caroline, Countess of Harrington

One of the things I enjoyed researching for my book “In Bed with the Georgians – Sex Scandal and Satire”  concerned a gathering of ‘fallen women’ known as The New Female Coterie. It was an informal gathering of women who were ostracised by polite society because they had been caught out. In other words they had all committed adultery and suffered public humiliation. The group was headed by Caroline, Countess of Harrington, a woman of great notoriety on account of her insatiable appetite and sexual proclivities. Members would meet for a drink and a gossip at a high-end London brothel run by Sarah Prendergast. This gave members an opportunity to take their pick of any male customers they fancied and to exchange news and views with other ‘fallen women’. So, let’s have a look at some of the other members. One was The Honourable Catherine Newton.

She had figured in a particularly infamous divorce case – a case where the lurid details of her repeated infidelities left little to the imagination. The details were published in 1782 as “The Trial of the Hon. Mrs. Catherine Newton, Wife of John Newton… Upon a Libel and Allegations, Charging her with the Crime of Adultery”.

She was 16 at the time of her marriage to the 58 year-old John Newton, and the trial records show a history of her cavorting nearly-naked with a succession of stable lads, house servants and so on. Servants being servants, there were many willing to testify to the occasions when hands were seen placed on naked thighs, or that inappropriate assistance had been given when Catherine was being helped to mount her horse. Housemaids complained of having to re-make the beds several times each day, and there was much evidence of adjoining rooms not being locked, and of undergarments being found in inappropriate places…  A young lad called Master Baggs appeared on the scene and Catherine’s attentions to him were so obvious that even her old goat of a husband noticed. He kicked her out and following her very public divorce she drifted to London and became part of the circle of disgraced ladies who sought support from each other’s company.

Penelope Viscountess Ligonier by Thomas Gainsborough

Another club member was Penelope Viscountess Ligonier. Like many women born into aristocracy, Penelope was still a teenager when she got married. Lord Edward Ligonier was the lucky guy. At 26 he was ten years older than his bride, and in celebration of the marriage, Lord Ligonier asked the artist Thomas Gainsborough to paint their portraits. The fact that he chose to have his portrait taken alongside his favourite horse shows his priorities!

Edward was an army-man through and through, and whereas he probably knew quite a lot about horses and how to look after them, that was more than could be said about the way he treated his young wife. Still, the couple put up the charade of the typical married aristocrats. They entertained many of their foreign friends at their home, Cobham Park. One of their visitors was Count Vittorio Alfieri, an Italian dramatist.

Edward, 2nd Viscount Ligonier by Thomas Gainsborough

Attractive, witty and hungry for the love she wasn’t getting from her husband, Penelope embarked on a very public affair with the Count. When the cuckolded husband found out about the adultery he challenged the Italian count to a duel, which took place in Green Park in London in May 1771. Edward, who was a soldier, managed to wound Alfieri but not kill him. He then applied to Parliament for a Private Bill of Divorce, which meant that all the lurid details of his wife’s adultery came out into the open. She may have hoped that the Italian would stand by her and offer marriage, but as he knew full well that she had been sharing her affections with several of the household servants, he declined.

Penelope faced financial ruin and social ostracism, so meeting up with women of her same social class who were in the same predicament as herself was probably a great comfort, as well as providing her with company and an extra income as  “guest of honour” at the Prendergast brothel.

There is even a story that at one particular masquerade where everyone wore disguises she inadvertently ended up making love to her former husband. He was not aware of the mistake until he found that she had given him a dose of what was known as the “Neapolitan Complaint.”

What scandalised society was that when Penelope wrote about the affair with her Italian lover she made it clear that she did not regret it for a second, and that everything was a price worth paying for escaping from a loveless marriage. That to the Georgians, was a truly shocking confession.

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Henrietta, Lady Grosvenor by Thomas Gainsborough

Another member of the coterie was the beautiful Henrietta, wife of the First Baron Grosvenor.

Despite the fourteen year age difference, she had married the man within a month of their first meeting, presumably unaware of his appetite for gaming and whoring. He is generally thought to have lost some £250,000 on the horses and at the gaming tables – a vast sum of money even for the gambling-mad eighteenth century. More to the point, he was one of the most debauched characters of the time, spending his time with a constant succession of whores. This left Henrietta with the view that what was sauce for the gander was sauce for the goose, and she embarked on an affair with George III’s brother, Henry, Duke of Cumberland.

Henry, Duke of Cumberland

In the court case which followed, Henrietta had tried to play down the significance of her affair by throwing as much dirt as possible at her husband, producing witness after witness from a variety of brothels across town. It worked in so far as it enthralled the readership of the newspapers which reported every word of the trial, but failed in the sense that her husband was awarded £10,000 in damages – a sum met by King George III, and hence ultimately by the British taxpayer.

The mud-slinging produced strong moral outrage at Henrietta’s conduct (presumably the conduct of her lover and her husband was no worse that was to have been expected). She became the object of innumerable bawdy songs and faced hostility in the press. The legal separation from her husband left Henrietta with a paltry annual allowance of £1200, and it seems that she may well have supplemented her income by ‘a spot of freelance work’ at Sarah Prendergast’s seraglio.

While her husband was alive, and was unable to divorce her because of his own adultery, she remained in social limbo until his death in 1802. Within a month his widow had become married to George Porter, Sixth Baron de Hochepied, and lived quietly and out of the public eye until her death in 1828.

For anyone wanting to know more about the New Female Coterie I thoroughly recommend Hallie Rubenhold’s book  The Scandalous Lady W (Lady Worsley’s Whim).

Queen Victoria visiting Covent Garden, 1855. Royal Collection Trust

A brief trip out of the Georgian Era

As part of blog tour to launch our latest book A Right Royal Scandal we are thrilled to have been invited to write a guest post for the lovely Mimi Matthews. Mimi focuses on Regency and Victorian which fits in very nicely with our latest book which sees us leave the Georgian Era and move into the Victorian age, but worry not, this is a brief hiatus we will be writing and blogging about the Georgian Era for some considerable time to come.

Queen Victoria at Drury Lane Theatre, 15 November 1837 by Edmund Thomas Parris (1793-1873), drawn 1837. Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2016
Queen Victoria at Drury Lane Theatre, 15 November 1837 by Edmund Thomas Parris (1793-1873), drawn 1837. Royal Collection Trust/© Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2016

With no further ado we would like to invite you to take a brief trip from Georgian England into Victorian England or, to be more precise, to Queen Victoria’s first visit to the London theatres as a monarch in 1837 by following the highlighted link.

A Right Royal Scandal: Two Marriages That Changed History by Joanne Major and Sarah Murden. https://www.amazon.co.uk/Right-Royal-Scandal-Marriages-Changed/dp/1473863422

 

Reynards last shift. British Museum

The Theft of the Great Seal, 1784

The Great Seal is attached to the official documents of state that require the authorization of the monarch to implement the advice of the government.

by Thomas Phillips, oil on canvas, 1806
Lord Chancellor, Edward Thurlow by Thomas Phillips, oil on canvas, 1806 Courtesy of the National Portrait Gallery

On the night of 23rd March 1784, thieves had entered Edward Thurlow, 1st Baron Thurlow’s Great Ormond Street house and stolen some money, but more importantly they stole the Great Seal, a symbol of royal authority.  A new one had to be hastily made to replace it as it was not recovered and popular opinion suggested that Fox or his supporters were behind the theft.

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A satirical rhyme, ‘The Consultation’, made fun the finances of Colonel Richard FitzPatrick and Charles James Fox, referencing the recent theft of the Great Seal from the house of the Lord Chancellor, Edward Thurlow.

Says F__t____k to Fox, ‘Oh how can we ate!

By Jasus you know we have both pawn’d our plate?

Black Reynard replies, ‘We can have one good meal,

By filching from Thurlow his boasted Great Seal

A contemporary print, depicting Fox as Falstaff holding the Prince of Wales on his shoulders with Mary Robinson (Perdita) standing alongside, is thought to show FitzPatrick leaning out of the window of Thurlow’s house handing down the Great Seal.

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The adventure of Prince pretty man, March 1784, British Museum

Whilst rumours spread, the truth of the theft may in fact have been slightly different, if the Morning Herald and Daily Advertiser (Wed 21 April 1784) was correct:

William Vandeput was on Monday committed to New Gaol, Southwark, where he is now doubled ironed, on a charge of burglary in the house of the Lord Chancellor, and stealing there-out the Great Seal. A Jew in Petticoat Lane was yesterday apprehended, on an information against him for having purchased and melted the Great Seal into an ingot; but while he was conducting to the Rotation Office in Southwark, for examination, he was released from the Peace Officer by eight ruffians. The Jew melted the seal, while the robbers remained in his house.

As to which story was true, we will never know, but certainly William Vandeput was a well known criminal and was sentenced to death eventually in October 1785 and was executed on 1st December 1785.

Just as an aside, in our book, An Infamous Mistress: The Life, Loves and Family of the celebrated Grace Dalrymple Elliot, we unmask Richard FitzPatrick as one of her lovers when he was taking a break from his long term mistress, a celebrity in her day but forgotten now, Mrs Moll Benwell.

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Moll Benwell

 

Guest post by Laurie Benson – ‘From a spark to a flame’

What was the Georgian equivalent to today’s disposable lighter?  Well, back today with us is the lovely Laurie Benson, host of the fascinating blog  The Cozy Drawing Room which you may wish to check out. Laurie is also a recently published author  which you can find out more about at the end of this post. So, in the meantime we’ll hand you over to Laurie to find out the answer to the question above.

There are times when you’re writing historical fiction that it becomes obvious your characters will need to do things differently than you do in the twenty-first century. I had one of those moments recently when I was writing An Unexpected Countess, which is set in London during the Regency era.

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Early 19th century solid silver pocket tinder box. Photo courtesy of Ruby Lane

In the story my hero, the Earl of Hartwick, is out in the middle of the night searching for a clue that will lead him to the location of a piece of the missing French Crown Jewels. It’s dark in the building he is in. If this was a contemporary story, Hart would pull out his flashlight (or torch as the British call it) and he would have sufficient enough light to thoroughly search the building. But Hart lives in 1819, so instead of a flashlight he would have used something like this small folding pocket candle lantern.

An 18th Century French Pocket Candle Lantern. Photo courtesy of Prices 4 Antiques

It’s really handy, right? Here is the part where the author in me rubs my head in frustration. How would he have lit it? There were no lighters. Did they even have matches back then? I’d heard of matchstick girls, but were they around in the early 19th century and did they sell the same kind of matches we use today?

Selling matches for tinderboxes in London c. 1821. Photo courtesy of

It’s times like this I’m especially grateful for my friends who own antique shops because they can often help point me in the right direction and this time one of them did by telling me about tinderboxes.

Tinderboxes were used in the Georgian era to create fire. They could be small enough to fit inside a pocket and were made of wood or metal and contained flint, steel, tinder, and sulfur-tipped matches. The tinder that was used would generally have been char cloth, which is a small piece of cloth made from linen, jute, or cotton that would ignite easily from a spark.

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Antique Pocket Size Tinderbox

To start a fire you would strike the piece of steel against the flint close to the char cloth that was nestled in the bottom of the tinderbox. The spark from that action would ignite the char cloth. You then could light your sulfur-tipped match off the burning tinder to light a candle or your pipe. To extinguish the char cloth, you would simply close the box. This would preserve the remaining tinder for future use.

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Any card matches or SaveallsTitle (series)The Cryes of the City of London Drawne after the Life A young match seller walking to right with basket over her right arm and her wares held in both hands, looking over her shoulder to left; from late series of the Cries of London, the plate reworked. 1688, reworked and published after c.1750. Etching and engraving Courtesy of British Museum

Tinderboxes were used throughout the Georgian era but gradually were replaced by friction matches, which were invented around 1827.

514wnuoigzl-_sx298_bo1204203200_Laurie Benson is an award-winning author of historical romances published by Harper Collins. Her current series, The Secret Lives of the Ton, takes place in London during the Regency era and are available from Amazon and all good book sellers. When she’s not at her laptop avoiding laundry, she can often be found browsing museums or heading for the summit on a ridiculously long hike. You can also catch up with Laurie on Twitter at @LaurieBwrites or on Facebook at www.facebook.com/LaurieBensonAuthor.

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All Things History – Monthly Roundup for October

Well, here we are at the beginning of another month, so here’s a roundup of the history blogs that grabbed our attention last month. As always we really hope you find them as interesting as we have.

The Regency Chino

On being over-fond of animals

Word of the Week – Victualling Office

Things Named For People

Henri de Rigny: turning adversity into opportunity

Letters Patent in 1803 and the privileges they carried

A Beautiful Needle Lace Sampler for 1795

Fleuron: A Database of Eighteenth-Century Printers’ Ornaments

Victorian Era Medicine Laudanum

Maria Edgeworth’s (Deleted) Thoughts on Frances Burney’s Evelina

Cleanliness and Class

Keeping the Secret (the Seasalter Company of Smugglers)

The Dutch explorer and africanist Alexandrine Petronella Francina Tinne

Emblems of the Soul: Butterflies in Victorian Fashion and Folklore

John Trew and an Elizabethan Tank

The Killer Coroner and the Pesky Peacock

Historic Painting: Maslenitsa by Boris Kustodiev, 1919

 

Defiance: The Life and Choices of Lady Anne Barnard: Book Review

We were absolutely thrilled to be contacted by Faber and Faber to ask if we would like to review Stephen Taylor’s latest book which is due for release today, Defiance: The Life and Choices of Lady Anne Barnard. We jumped at the chance as Lady Anne Barnard and her sister, Margaret will make an albeit brief appearance in our third book, so the chance to find out more about what their lives would have been like was an opportunity too good to miss, but we would like to point out that this is an independent review.

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Many of our readers will probably have heard of Lady Anne Barnard or at least be familiar with her name as a writer and Georgian socialite who was acquainted with the ‘great and the good’ of the time including the likes of William Windham, Edmund Burke, plus our favourite courtesan Grace Dalrymple Elliot’s lovers –  the Marquess of Cholmondeley and the Prince of Wales. Some of you may also be aware of her as being the author of the ballad Auld Robin Gray, but few will be aware of much more than the brief outline of her life.

Stephen has written this factual account of her life from the immense wealth of archive material held by her descendants. The book clearly demonstrates his attention to detail and provides the reader with a carefully crafted, but beautifully told account of Lady Anne’s life with a surprise or two along the way that you most certainly won’t have come across before! A family tree might have been an added bonus, but the lack of one most certainly didn’t detract in any way.

We don’t want to spoil the story but we would highly recommend reading it, we’re sure it’s one that we’ll back dipping into again, so for now we’ll stick to providing a few basic facts about Anne and leave you to find out so much more in Stephen’s book.

Lady Anne Barnard (née Lindsay) by Walker & Cockerell, published by Smith, Rider and Co, after Richard Cosway, photogravure, (circa 1775-1800). © National Portrait Gallery, London

Anne was born 1750, the daughter of James, Earl of Balcarres and Anne Lindsay née Dalrymple, so around the same sort of time as our very own Grace Dalrymple Elliott and there’s a distinct possibility the families knew of each other.  Like Grace, Anne spent time in Paris during the French Revolution and when returning to England she married Andrew Barnard, a military man, some 12 years her junior.

Andrew took a posting to Cape Town, where they spent five years together from 1797, with Anne returning to England alone at the beginning of 1802. Throughout her time there she wrote lengthy tomes to, amongst others, Henry Dundas (1st Viscount Melville).

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Henry Dundas, 1st Viscount Melville, by Sir Thomas Lawrence

There is one lovely self-description in the book, in a letter she wrote to Elizabeth Harcourt, in which she described herself as ‘a sort of Ladyship Jack of all Trades, a housekeeper, botanist, collector, paintress, upholsterer, Lady Bountiful, cook, dairy maid – everything but a politician and that I do not touch’.

Andrew returned to England briefly, but then went back to South Africa where his health failed and he was to die in 1807. It was upon Andrew’s death that she found out a secret that he had been keeping (we won’t say more about that!). Anne spent the remainder of her life in London until her death on May 6th 1825.

All in all, this is a fabulous book that we are pleased to recommend to our readers, full of detail to anyone interested in the Georgian era as well as those who are interested in the life of Lady Anne Barnard.

 

A Right Royal Scandal blog tour

As many of our readers are no doubt aware we’ve been busy bunnies finishing our second book A Right Royal Scandal and are now working on our third and so today,  rather than hosting our own blog, we thought we’d let you know that we have, in the past few, days been guests on the blogs of Naomi Clifford and the ‘Georgian Gentleman’ which is hosted by Mike Rendell. We thought you might like to check our guest posts on their blogs – Elopement in High Life and Publish and be damned.

Both Naomi and Mike are Pen and Sword authors, Naomi already has her first book out, The Disappearance of Maria Glenn and Mike’s book, In Bed With the Georgians is due to be published on 30th of this month.

So, with that we would like to direct you over to our articles on both sites by following the links below and we really hope you enjoy them:

Naomi Clifford: In Elopement in High Life: Anne Wellesley and Lord Charles Bentinck we give a little taster on the details of their scandalous elopement in 1815, which is recounted in full in A Right Royal Scandal. Anne was the married niece of the Duke of Wellington, and she ran away with her lover just weeks after the Battle of Waterloo.

Georgian Gentleman: In Publish and be damned we take a look at the Regency courtesan Harriette Wilson and the dandy Beau Brummell, and their links with the people we have written about in A Right Royal Scandal.

Please do also take the time to have a look at the other wonderful articles to be found on Naomi and Mike’s sites while you’re there.

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Madame de Pompadour by François Boucher, 1756.

Was green fashionable in the 18th century?

As we haven’t written any fashion related posts for a while we thought it might be interesting to look at both clothing and paintings showing the vast array of colours worn in Georgian fashion, but, as our regular readers will be aware we got side-tracked when we realized that there were relatively few outfits and paintings of people wearing the colour green and we wondered why, so began to investigate!

Portrait miniature of Mrs. Russell, nee Cox 1781 by John Smart (1741-1811) Historical Portraits Courtesy of Philip Mould
Portrait miniature of Mrs Russell, nee Cocks, 1781 by John Smart (1741-1811). Historical Portraits, courtesy of Philip Mould. To find out more about the fascinating story behind this miniature you might like to click on this link.

We wondered whether it simply wasn’t a fashionable colour amongst the Georgians, but then, having looked at the way in which the colour is produced we soon realized that one possible explanation could be due to the process and the elements involved, thereby making the cost of it more expensive than to produce other dyes, in turn making it only available to the wealthy. There also appear to have been issues with achieving a bright and even colour. Green also seemed virtually impossible to make colourfast – green skin would not have been a good look, as one of us who shall remain nameless knows all too well, having bought a beautiful long, vibrant green skirt to wear on the beach only to find that for some strange reason it wasn’t colour fast … we’ll  leave that thought to your imagination!

Green dye could be obtained in a variety of ways such as using plants like grass or nettles for a lively green – common broom, heathers or iris for dark greens. Alternately, a product called copperas also known as could be used, Verdigrease (now know as Verdigris) or Alum.

c. 1775, American silk dress. Courtesy of The MetMuseum
c. 1775, American silk dress. Courtesy of The MetMuseum

We came across this book written in 1735 ‘The Gentleman’s Companion and Tradesman’s Delight. Containing, the mystery of dying in all its branches’ which provides us with some recipes for dying fabric green.

madame_de_pompadour_by_francois_boucher-wiki
Madame de Pompadour by Francois Boucher

To dye a fair green

Take Bran Water and Alum, a gallon the former to a pound of the latter, and boil them up till the Alum is dissolved; then let your silk or cloth lie therein for about a quarter of an hour, then take more Bran Water and a few handfuls of Woad, and put it therein till it become a dark yellow; then add Verdigrease and Indigo of each half a pound or more or less of the one or the other, as you would have it lighter or darker.

lebrun-pelagie-sapiezyna-green-dress
Pelagie Sapiezyna by Louise Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun

To colour a light green

Take the herb called Horse Tail, bruise it and add to the juice a small quantity of Verdigrease, Alum and Copperas, and over a gentle fire, make it into a colour, which will prove very pleasant and delightful.

Jane, Duchess of Gordon, née Maxwell, standing three-quarter-length, portrayed in a green riding habit, wearing only one glove on her right hand. By Daniel Gardner c.1775.
Jane, Duchess of Gordon, née Maxwell, standing three-quarter-length, portrayed in a green riding habit, wearing only one glove on her right hand. By Daniel Gardner c.1775.

The School of Wisdom; or repository of the most valuable curiosities of art & nature of 1788 provides the following recipe for creating a lasting green

Boil three quarters of a pound of alum, half a pound of tartar, into quarts of sharp ley for an hour, and in it soak the thread for three hours, keeping it hot all the while: how to dye it yellow: put into the kettle eight pounds of broom, one pound of corn marigold flowers, half a pound of crab-tree bark, that looks yellow and ripe, and add two quarts of sharp ley: when these have boiled half an hour, then dye the thread in the liquor as deep a yellow as possible: but if you can procure Spanish Yellow, an addition of three quarters of a pound of it will heighten the dye, and render it more lasting, for it is to be remembered, that all yellows that are designed to be dyed green, must be as deep as possibly can be. After this turn it green with blue dye. You may blue the thread with Woad, else with indigo, being first thrown into the alum suds, and afterwards into the yellow, and you will have a lasting green, so that a green dye is to be dyed several ways.

green-for-silks

Grass green

First dye your silk a pretty deep straw colour, rinse it clean and wring it close together with sticks; and then put your silk into the blue dye copper: though you must take care that the strength of the dye be proportioned to the quantity of silk, and that you do not put in too much silk at once.  When it has boiled enough take the kettle off, and let it stand for an hour, after which time you may work it again, and do the same every hour allowing the same interval, but you must be very careful that one handful of silk does not lie longer in than another, and when it is taken out of the copper, let it be very well cooled, rinse and strongly wring with sticks and afterwards dried.

j_s_copley_-_nicolas_boylston
Ward Nicholas Boylston in a brilliant green banyan and a cap, painted by John Singleton Copley, 1767.

To dye a parrot or parroquet green

This being something lighter than the other, must be boiled in weaker suds than the other, and, as soon as it is dyed, must be wrung and dried as the other.

man-in-a-green-coat-gilbert-stuart-1779-85
Man in a Green Coat by Gilbert Stuart 1779-85 Courtesy of The Metmuseum

To dye greenfinch or canary bird green

This must be dyed as the green, only the last suds must be encouraged with a little Provence wood suds, till it is deep enough; then wring it out as above.

ma-29415-web
Coat. France, 1800-1810 Courtesy of LACMA

 

Prince of Wales, the Duke of Orleans, and Friendship

We are delighted to once again welcome to our blog the lovely Geri Walton, blogger and now author. Geri, like us, has long been interested in history and fascinated by the stories of people from the 1700 and 1800s. This led her to achieve a degree in History and resulted in her website which offers unique history stories from the 18th- and 19th-centuries.

Her first book, Marie Antoinette’s Confidante: The Rise and Fall of the Princesse de Lamballe, has just been released. It looks at the relationship between Marie Antoinette and the Princess de Lamballe, and among the people mentioned in the book are the Duke of Orleans, the Prince of Wales, and Grace Dalrymple Elliott, of which more later.

Marie Antoinette has always fascinated readers worldwide. Yet perhaps no one knew her better than one of her closest confidantes, Marie Thérèse, the Princess de Lamballe. The Princess became superintendent of the Queen’s household in 1774, and through her relationship with Marie Antoinette, a unique perspective of the lavishness and daily intrigue at Versailles is exposed.

Born into the famous House of Savoy in Turin, Italy, Marie Thérèse was married at the age of seventeen to the Prince de Lamballe; heir to one of the richest fortunes in France. He transported her to the gold-leafed and glittering chandeliered halls of the Château de Versailles, where she soon found herself immersed in the political and sexual scandals that surrounded the royal court. As the plotters and planners of Versailles sought, at all costs, to gain the favour of Louis XVI and his Queen, the Princess de Lamballe was there to witness it all.

This book reveals the Princess de Lamballe’s version of these events and is based on a wide variety of historical sources, helping to capture the waning days and grisly demise of the French monarchy. The story immerses you in a world of titillating sexual rumours, blood-thirsty revolutionaries, and hair-raising escape attempts and is a must read for anyone interested in Marie Antoinette, the origins of the French Revolution, or life in the late 18th Century.

The Prince of Wales and the Duke of Orleans first met when the Duke visited England in 1783. The two men hit off because both men were wealthy and enjoyed idling away time. They were known to regularly “drink, bet at races, and gamble with dice and cards.” A second visit by the Duke made in the spring of 1784 had them visiting a variety of race tracks where they bet on the horses, and a third visit by the Duke, in the autumn, cemented the men’s relationship further when they went to Brighton, which was little more than a fishing village at the time.

Louis Philippe d’Orléans, as Duke of Chartres, by Sir Joshua Reynolds, ca.1779, Courtesy of the Château de Chantilly

Despite the Duke (b. 1747) being 15 years older than the Prince (b. 1762), the two men had other commonalities that encouraged their friendship. Both men enjoyed all sorts of vices, such as wasting time and constantly spending money. This caused the Prince’s father, George III, to view the Duke as a bad example for his son. In addition, reports about the Duke’s orgies did not help his standing with the King nor did the fact that George III had already issued a “royal proclamation against vice and immorality, and all kinds of swearing, drunkenness, and licentiousness.”

Despite the King’s proclamation, the Prince continued to live a wanton lifestyle. Similar to the Duke, the Prince also had a number of mistresses. In fact, one mistress the Prince and the Duke had in common was the divorcee Grace Dalrymple Elliott. The Prince first met Elliott when he was eighteen. They eventually had an affair, which resulted in Elliott giving birth to his daughter on 30 March 1782 and caused the Prince to supposedly remark, “To convince me that this is my girl they must first prove that black is white.”

George IV when Prince of Wales, miniature by Richard Cosway, 1792.
George IV when Prince of Wales, miniature by Richard Cosway, 1792. National Portrait Gallery

The Prince did eventually admit the girl was his although even before her birth, the Prince and Elliott’s relationship had fizzled. With the Prince tired of Elliott, he introduced her to his friend the Duke of Orleans. Despite being married, the Duke was interested in Elliott. (He had married on 6 June 1796 Louise Marie Adélaïde de Bourbon, who was sister-in-law to the ill-fated Princesse de Lamballe.) The Duke pursued Elliott, made her his mistress, and, by 1786, she moved to Paris to be closer to him.

As time passed, the Duke and Prince’s relationship continued to strengthen. At one point the Prince commissioned a portrait of the Duke, and the Duke ending up buying a house in Brighton because of his frequent visits to England. Moreover, during one of the Duke’s stays in Brighton, the Duke “had 28 fallow deer brought from France as a present to the Prince, who had recently formed a kennel of staghounds in Brighton.” Unfortunately, on the way to deliver them to the Prince’s kennels, a revenue officer seized the deer, and it was only after much wrangling that the deer were released and sent on their way to the Prince.

The two men also forged closeness in other ways. First, the Duke of Orleans invested large sums of money in England, and, second, he embraced everything “English” to the point the Duke made anglomania fashionable in France. Another reason for the men’s closeness was their common dislike for Louis XVI and the French monarchy. The English were “bitterly exasperated against the court of Louis XVI for aiding in the emancipation of America,” and, so, the Prince saw little wrong with the Duke supporting French revolutionaries, who were pitted against Louis XVI and the monarchy.

Despite the Duke and Prince’s similarities and common dislike for the French monarchy and Louis XVI, their friendship eventually began to wane. It completely ruptured after the Duke voted for the death of his own cousin, Louis XVI. Before the infamous vote, Elliott asked the Duke of Orleans, how, in good conscience could he allow his King and his cousin to be condemned by “blackguards.” He reassured her nothing would ever induce him to vote for the King’s death. However, he also noted “he thought the King had been guilty by forfeiting his word to the nation.”

Grace Dalrymple Elliott. Portrait by Thomas Gainsborough, 1778. Courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

When the vote was taken, the Duke did not keep his word to Elliott. Later, after the vote, Elliott would say there was no one she detested more than the Duke. The Duke’s vote also caused many people to believe the Duke was attempting to undermine the monarchy and seize power for himself. This belief resulted in him becoming “a hated figure among the exiled aristocrats. He was [also] soon a figure of contempt for fellow republicans, who whatever their political principles, retained a belief that blood was thicker than water.”

Although the Prince of Wales disliked the French monarchy and Louis XVI, he also believed blood was thicker than water. After he heard the news that the Duke had voted for the death of his cousin, Louis XVI, the Prince of Wales became livid. “He leapt up from his chair, dragged down from the wall the portrait of Philippe that he had commissioned from Joshua Reynolds decades earlier and smashed it to pieces in the fireplace.” Thus, the friendship of the Prince of Wales and the Duke of Orleans ended forever.

References:

Ambrose, Tom, Godfather of the Revolution, 2014

Bishop, John George, The Brighton Pavilion and Its Royal and Municipal Associations, 1900

Craik, George Lillie and Charles MacFarlane, The Pictorial History of England During the Reign of George the Third, 1849

“London, (Thursday) March 24,” in Derby Mercury, 24 March 1785

Major, Joanne, and Sarah Murden, An Infamous Mistress, 2016

The Living Age, Vol. 74, 1862

 

 

You can find Geri on Facebook, Twitter (@18thCand19thC), Google PlusInstagram and Pinterest and her book is available from:

Pen and Sword Books

Amazon.co.uk

and to pre-order on Amazon.com and other good bookshops

 

Guest blog by Suzie Lennox ‘Sites to be seen!’

We are thrilled to welcome the lovely Suzie Lennox who has spent her time researching the dark tales of Britain’s resurrection men for over ten years, after becoming interested in bodysnatching whilst studying History at University. Suzie has recently published a book entitled Bodysnatchers: Digging up the untold stories of Britain’s Resurrection Men which makes fascinating, if somewhat macabre reading – did you know for instance that there was a ‘season‘ for bodysnatching?’ to find out more you’ll have to read her book.

book-cover

Travel around England and Scotland and you’ll no doubt have passed some churchyard that’s got a bodysnatching story to tell. You may even have sped your way past a watch-house in a roadside graveyard without giving it a second thought or have been equally as curious about these strange structures built along the edges of churchyard walls.

Bodysnatching was a very real thing in Georgian Britain. The stealing of cadavers from graveyards in order to supply the anatomy schools of England and Scotland was more common than one might at first believe. Graveyards were targeted either by opportunists or after receiving word that a burial had recently taken place. Parishes were beyond despair, parishioners fearing they would no longer be safe once they’d left this mortal coil.

prestonpans-detail

There were numerous different preventions that were adopted to try to stop the bodysnatchers in their path. Perhaps the most common of these was the watchtower or watch-house; simple structures built to accommodate two or three men employed to keep watch over the recently buried, until their bodies were no longer fresh enough for the surgeons.  Unusual examples of these can be found at Eyemouth in Northumberland and Prestonpans in East Lothian, although the majority were plain, simple affairs, and nothing gets plainer like the watch-house at Chirnside, Berwickshire.

There are also those of extreme proportions. Falling more into the watch-tower category, the structure at Pebbles, Mid Lothian was a former steeple, adapted to accommodate ‘the watch’ on those long winter nights. At the opposite end of the scale is the wee watch-tower that can be found at Eckford in the Borders, you’ve probably whizzed passed it if you’ve driven on the A698.

holystone-mortsafe
Holystone Mortsafe

The alternative to the watch-house was the mortsafe, adopted by parishes that perhaps did not have enough money to build something permanent. The local blacksmith would be asked to fashion an iron cage that could be lowered into place over the coffin and remain ‘in situ’ until the next future inhabitant required it. Mortsafes are found in abundance in Scotland with a scattering in England. Many are familiar with the double mortsafes found in Greyfriars Kirkyard, Edinburgh but what of the unusual example at Luss in Argyle and Bute or the suspiciously delicate example at Holystone in Northumberland.

ayr-mortsafe
Ayr Mortsafe

Other lesser known mortsafes preserved for prosperity include examples at Ayr, which hangs pride of place in the churchyard lychgate and the superb example found at Bolton, East Lothian.  It is said that when Robert Burns’ mother died here in 1820, a mortsafe was made to secure her body against the thieving hands of the resurrectionists.  A detailed description of how the mortsafe was used is displayed next to the ironwork:

                ‘ After burial the heavy wrought iron grille was place above the grave at ground

                level and secured in place by some thirty long rods which also prevents access from

                the sides. The rods were…secured by nuts. The nuts were of three designs, removable

                only by special spanners.’

A mortsafe found in 1915 in Aberlour, Speyside was discovered with its coffin still locked inside it. All well and good, but what was more puzzling was that when the sealed coffin was opened, it was found minus its occupant. Perhaps the mortsafe wasn’t the best option to guard against the resurrectionists after all.

There were many other forms of deterrent; coffin collars, cemetery guns and the iron coffin to name a few. Simple techniques were also adopted by poorer members of the parish; mixing straw or stones in with the soil when backfilling a grave can be just as effective against a midnight raid.

The macabre practise of bodysnatching was addressed in 1832 when the shocking case of Bishop, Williams and May was discovered in London. The public had had enough; the preventative measures put in place, no longer sufficient against these depraved members of society. The Anatomy Act was finally passed 1 August 1832, pushing the onus of providing fresh cadavers for the medical profession squarely onto the shoulders of the poor. Unclaimed souls that had died in the parish workhouse, now destined for the dissecting table of the local anatomy school.

Newspaper clippings and archival evidence continually adds to a growing database which currently lists over two hundred individual resurrection men – please feel free to contact Suzie if you find any during your research. For those interest in the darker side of history you can follow Suzie’s Twitter account  or read her blog Britain’s Forgotten Bodysnatchers.

Feature image – Mortsafe, Chirnside.

 

All Things History – Monthly Roundup for September

Well, we’re delighted to say that it appears our readers did enjoy our monthly round up, so here are just a few of this months blogs that grabbed our attention, we hope you enjoy them as much as us.

The Secret Art of Victorian Fore-edge Painting

How Did Aristocratic Women Influence Tea Consumerism in 18th Century England?

Poisonous Little Beasts

“Your Lordship does not consider me as a Friend”: Lord Chatham and sir Richard Strachan, January 1810

19th Century Money Saving Tips

Mewing like Cats

The Medicalization of Death in History

The Shape Of Emily’s Coffin – The mysteries of the least known Brontë sister

The Spectacular Tradescant Tomb: “A World of wonders in one Closet Shut”

Prison: A punishment for the mind … and the body?

The Man with 87 Children

Jane Austen’s Reading

Welcome to Bluetown: Where every other house is a public house and every third house a brothel.

R.J. Reynolds’s Tobacco Connection to King Edward VII

Samuel Brunn, an exceptional sword-cutler and gunsmith

How aliens helped Britain defeat Napoleon

Soldiers billeted on Bourton-on-the-Water, 1795

The Real Victorian Detective vs. Sherlock Homes

Going Great Guns

We are thrilled to welcome A J Mackenzie which is the pseudonym of Marilyn Livingstone and Morgen Witzel, a collaborative Anglo-Canadian husband-and-wife team of writers and historians. Between them, they have written more than twenty nonfiction and academic titles, with specialisms including management, economic history and medieval warfare. You can find out more on their website by clicking here.

When it came to finding new ways of killing people, the Georgians were very inventive. Some of their weapons were lethal; some were also downright weird.

We’ve seen plenty of eighteenth-century weapons in films, of course, from the duelling pistols in Barry Lyndon to the Brown Bess muskets carried by the squaddies who go around terrorising the poor (alternatively, keeping order in lawless coastal communities) in Poldark.

In The Body on the Doorstep, the first of our Romney Marsh Mystery series, a rifle is a key weapon, but other firearms are also used by a variety of characters. Most people of quality would have owned a firearm of some sort. The country squire would have a fowling piece (ancestor of the modern shotgun) for shooting birds and rabbits; the lady of the town would carry a muff pistol when going out to deter highwaymen and footpads. In the absence of an established police force, people reserved the right to defend themselves.

But with advancements in science, spurred on by the Enlightenment, came advances in weaponry. Early in the eighteenth century the mathematician Benjamin Robins (ironically, the son of a Quaker family) calculated that cutting a pattern of helical grooves into the bore of a musket would impart spin to the projectile. This, in turn, meant the bullet would fly in a straight line, meaning greater accuracy. Most smoothbore muskets were barely accurate beyond fifty yards; a good rifle could hit a target at three hundred yards or even more.

rifle-1
A German sporting rifle from the late eighteenth century

It took a while for rifles to catch on in Britain. They were more popular in Germany among the sporting set, German sportsmen preferring to shoot their prey from long range rather than chasing it across the country on horseback. The rifle also became popular in America where the colonists used them to shoot game for the pot. In 1775, when the colonists stopped shooting deer and started shooting redcoats instead, the British army took notice. A few experimental rifles were commissioned for the British light infantry, but it took another thirty years for the Baker rifle – Richard Sharpe’s weapon of choice – to come into service.

One of the things that determined the accuracy and power of any firearm was the quality of the gunpowder. Fighting the Russians at the Battle of Poltava in 1709, the Swedish army’s powder was so poor that the musket balls sometimes merely rolled down the barrel and dropped at the musketeer’s foot.

The Battle of Poltava
The Battle of Poltava

In the 1760s, a Tirolean watchmaker named Bartholomew Girandoni decided to do away with powder altogether and built a gun powered by compressed air. His was not the first air gun, but his Windbüchse, or ‘wind gun’ was one of the best yet seen, much faster to load – it could fire around 20 rounds a minute, compared to the musket’s three or four – and quieter to shoot than an ordinary musket. The Austrian army was so impressed that it ordered several thousand for special light infantry units.

The Girandoni ‘wind gun’
The Girandoni ‘wind gun’
Advertising leaflet for the Puckle Gun
Advertising leaflet for the Puckle Gun

The strangest weapon of the eighteenth century may well be the Defence Gun, more usually known as the Puckle Gun, patented by James Puckle in 1718. This was a flintlock repeating weapon mounted on a tripod and fired by turning a crank handle. There were various versions of the Puckle gun, some of which could fire as many as eleven shots without reloading. How many Puckle guns were made is not known, but two are still in existence and there are rumours of a number of others. Puckle was not able to persuade the notoriously conservative Board of Ordinance to take up his gun, but later engineers refined the design and eventually produced more satisfactory weapons; the nineteenth-century Gatling Gun is a direct descendant of the Puckle Gun.

Strange and quirky, the weapons of the eighteenth century were the forerunners of the more deadly ones of the nineteenth; and the truly terrifying ones of our own time.
bodyondoorstep-hb1-for-media-624-by-871-pixels

 

 

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.

For anyone unfamiliar with this extract, we have the words of the poet, John Keats, summing up the season in his beautiful poem ‘Ode to Autumn‘, composed on the 19th September 1819. The weather is now changing and we’re now into Autumn, so we thought we would take a look at some Georgian recipes from 1797 for using up that glut of fruit you may have acquired.

Autumn from the original picture by John Collet, in the possession of Carington Bowles. Courtesy of Lewis Walpole Library
Autumn from the original picture by John Collet, in the possession of Carrington Bowles.
Courtesy of Lewis Walpole Library

 

collingwood
Francis Collingwood
john-woollams
John Woollams

 

 

 

 

Our source is ‘The Universal cook and City and Country Housekeeper by Francis Collingwood and John Woollams.

To Make an Apple Tart

Scald eight or ten large codlings and skin them as soon as they are cold. Beat the pulp very fine with a spoon and then mix the yolks of six eggs and the whites of four. Beat all together as fine as possible, and put in grated nutmeg and sugar to taste. Melt some fresh butter and beat it till it is like a fine cream. Then make a fine puff paste, cover a patty pan with it, and pour in the ingredients, but do not cover it with the paste. Bake it a quarter of an hour, then flip it out of the patty pan onto a dish, and strew over it some sugar finely beaten and sifted.

van Os, Jan; Fruit; Plymouth City Council: Museum and Art Gallery; http://www.artuk.org/artworks/fruit-148201
van Os, Jan; Fruit; Plymouth City Council: Museum and Art Gallery

To make an Apple Pie

Having laid a good puff paste round the sides of the dish, pare and quarter your apples, and take out the cores. Lay a row of apples, thick, throw in half the sugar you intend to use, throw over it a little lemon peel minced fine, and squeeze over them a little lemon; sprinkle in a few cloves, and then put in the rest of your apples and your sugar. Sweeten to your palate, and squeeze a little more lemon.  Boil the peeling of the apples and the cores in water, with a blade of mace, till it is very good. Strain it, and boil the syrup with a little sugar, till it is considerably reduced in quantity. Pour it into your pie, put on the upper crust and bake it. You may beat up the yolks of two eggs, and half a pint of cream, with a little nutmeg and sugar. Put it over a slow fire and keep stirring it till it is ready to boil. Then take off the lid and pour in the cream. Cut the crust into little three corner pieces, stock them about the pie and send it to the table cold.

Bidlingmeyer, Jules; Apples and a Pan; Manchester Art Gallery; http://www.artuk.org/artworks/apples-and-a-pan-204454
Bidlingmeyer, Jules; Apples and a Pan; Manchester Art Gallery

To make a Codling Pie

Take some small codlings, put them into a pan with spring water, lay vine leaves on them, and cover them with a cloth, wrapped round the cover of the pan to keep in the steam. As soon as they grow soft, peel them, and put them in the same water as the vine leave. Hang them high over the fire to green, and, when you see them of a fine colour, take them out of the water, and put them into a deep dish, with as much powder or loaf sugar as will sweeten them. Make the lid of a rich puff paste and bake it. When it comes from the oven, take off the lid, and cut it into little pieces, like sippets, and stock them round the inside of the pie, with the point upwards. Then make a good custard, and pour it over your pie.

French School; A Young Girl Carrying Cherries in Her Apron; The Bowes Museum; http://www.artuk.org/artworks/a-young-girl-carrying-cherries-in-her-apron-44714
French School; A Young Girl Carrying Cherries in Her Apron; The Bowes Museum

To make a Cherry Pie

Having made a good crust, lay a little of it round the sides of the dish, and throw sugar at the bottom. Then lay in your fruit and some sugar at the top. You may, if you please, add some red currants, which will give an additional flavour to your pie. Then put on your lid, and bake it in a slack oven. You may make plum or gooseberry pieces in the same manner.

black-currant-jam

Gooseberry Cream

Put two quarts of gooseberries into a saucepan, just cover with water, scald them till they are tender, and then run them through a sieve with a spoon to a quart of pulp.  Have ready six eggs well beaten, make you pulp hot and put in one ounce of fresh butter.  Sweeten it to your taste, put it over a gentle fire till they are thick; but take care that they do not boil. Then stir in a gill of the juice of spinach and when it is almost cold, stir in a spoonful of orange-flower water or sack. Pour it into basins and serve it up cold.

A Time Traveller’s Adventure: As a Guest at the Opening of Norfolk House

Today we welcome the lovely historian, writer and blogger, Anna Thane to our blog. Anna is the host of the blog ‘Regency Explorer‘ so if you haven’t taken a look at it, then we would highly recommend you take a peek at it, she has some fascinating information on there.

Imagine yourself a time traveller. It’s 10 February in 1756 in London. You are invited to a major event: The opening of Norfolk House, the London home of the Duke and Duchess of Norfolk. Your hosts, Edward and Mary Howard, have just finished redecorating their house and are eager to present it to high society.

The_Duchess_of_Norfolk_in_1737
Mary Howard, Duchess of Norfolk. 1737, by John Vanderbank

Here are 6 tips to make your evening a success.

  1. Dress to impress the “In” Crowd

A party at Norfolk House is a splendid affair. Mary and Edward entertain only the crème de la crème of high society.

One might sooner be a knight of Malta than qualified for them,

wryly notes author Horace Walpole (1717 –1797).

Dress in your most fashionable attire. Male time travellers should choose a richly decorated coat and matching waistcoat, breeches and silk stockings. Female time travellers will be envied by all other ladies when wearing a dress with a wide panier.

gown
1750s gown, on display at the Museum of London
waistcoat
Splendid Waistcoat, on display at Hereford House
  1. Ignore the sticklers

Upon approaching Norfolk House, 31 St. James’s Square, you find the street a bustle of carriages, servants and guests. Countless torches lighten the way to the location. They also illuminate the new facade of the house. It looks austere. ‘Not fit for a Duke’, you hear some of the arriving guests mumble.

Don’t listen to them. These people obviously have no idea of architectural trends. The façade of Norfolk House was built in the style of the Italian architect Andrea Palladio: Tasteful, and the height of fashion!

  1. Don’t be afraid of ‘Mylord Duchess’

You enter the hall of Norfolk House and continue upstairs to the principal storey. Here, your hostess will greet you. Mary is said to be intelligent and forceful. Horace Walpole even calls her ‘My Lord Duchess’ – safely behind her back.
Mary’s reputation as ‘Power Woman’ is based on two aspects: She is more active in society than the Duke, and she has a keen interest in politics. As a matter of fact, Mary is the mastermind behind the political success of the family. In the early 18th century, the Dukes of Norfolk had Jacobite sympathies and played an active part in the affairs of the House of Stuart. Mary, however, realised that the Duke of Norfolk’s future is with the Hanoverians. Under her influence, her husband has been a loyal supporter of George II. for the past two decades.

When you meet the formidable Duchess, prove yourself worthy of her invitation by showing countenance and composure. If you want to ingratiate yourself with her, you can pay her a clever compliment. For example, congratulate her on the embroidered chair covers in the rooms. This will be received well, as Mary, an accomplished needlewoman, did many of the chair covers at Norfolk House herself.

  1. Mind your step

Mary, the driving force behind rebuilding Norfolk House, has spared no costs to decorate the interior in the latest fashion, Rococo splendour. Everything is magnificent and tasteful.

You can join in the “Oh” and “Ah”, but don’t get carried away and forget your manners. It’s vulgar to gawp, and you wouldn’t want to find yourself the object of Horace Walpole’s caustic comment on society: You would have thought there had been a comet, everybody was gaping in the air and treading on one another’s toes”, he wrote about the opening party on 10 February in a letter.

Music Room

  1. Boast with insider knowledge

A party is only fun when you know at least some of the guests. Being a time traveller, you are at a disadvantage: You don’t know anybody. How to make contact?

Apply a trick: Join a group of guests and remark that Norfolk House reminds you of famous Holkham Hall in Norfolk.

You can’t go wrong with this: Norfolk House and Holkham Hall were built by the same architect: Matthew Brettingham. – Okay, William Kent was in charge of building Holkham Hall, but Brettingham was his assistant. His architectural taste was formed there, and he derived most of the Palladian detail of Norfolk House from Holkham Hall (add this as additional information).

As you obviously are in possession of insider knowledge about the high society, people will consider you as a part of the ruling elite and thus worth being talked to.

  1. Be cosmopolitan and liberal

Mary and Edward are Roman Catholics, and they head one the most high profile recusant families of England. Being Catholic means that Edward can’t take his seat in the House of Lords. Nevertheless, Mary and Edward use their position as high-ranking peers to promote religious tolerance.

1755 Fan english
Mary, the charming hostess and a born diplomat, is totally at her ease at entertaining both catholic and protestant nobility. Her formula for success: cosmopolitanism. Nothing about her is ‘Popish’. Her talk is clever, and her political ideas are well balanced. Under her influence, the protestant ruling élite loses their suspicion of Roman Catholics.

Be smart, follow her lead, and help laying the fundament of religious tolerance. Besides, you will find many budding political talents among her guests, and most of them will be very influential in the decades to come. Wisely network: Your cosmopolitan attitude can secure more invitations to glorious 18th-century parties.

 

Sources

Alice Drayton Greenwood: Horace Walpole’s world – A sketch of Whig society under George III.; G. Bell and Sons: 1913

Clare Haynes: Of Her Making: The Cultural Practice of Mary, 9th Duchess of Norfolk; in: Tulsa Studies in Women’s’ Literature 31(1):77-98, March 2012

Matthew Kilburn: Howard [née Blount], Mary, duchess of Norfolk (1701/2–1773), noblewomen in: Oxford dictionary of National Biography: 2004.

Robert L. Mack: The Genius of Parody: Imitation and Originality in Seventeenth- and Eighteenth-Century English Literature; Palgrave Macmillan: 2007.

Horace Walpole, John Wright, George Agar-Ellis Dover: The letters of Horace Walpole, Earl of Orford: including numerous letters now first published from the original manuscripts; in six volumes; volume 3 (1753-1759); London: 1840.

British History Online, Survey of London, Volumes 29 and 30, St James Westminster, Part 1

Victoria & Albert Museum, London

Johan Zoffany – questions about his life

In one of our previous blogs we took a look at the famous painting by Johan Zoffany, ‘Colonel Mordaunt’s Cock Match.  His name cropped again in our research so we thought we’d find out more about the man and his family and came across this book online, which would definitely recommend – John Zoffany, R. A., his life and works. 1735-1810 by Lady Victoria Manners and G.C Williamson.

Zoffany self portrait 1761
Johan Zoffany – Self-portrait 1761

His life and his works appear to be have been very well documented but, in brief, Zoffany was born in Germany, moved to London and married twice. His first wife, Anthonie Theophista Juliane Eiselein, whom he married in the late 1750s, left him at some stage to return to Germany and died shortly after, after which he married for the second time and the couple had 4 daughters. He died 11th November 1810.

So that’s the basic facts of his life in a nutshell … but needless to say we have come across a few anomalies for which we have no answers, perhaps our readers can offer some help.

Everywhere we’ve looked states that he was born on 13 March 1733 near Frankfurt am Main, Germany, and baptized on 15 March at St Bartholomew’s Cathedral (including the ODNB). If you ‘do the maths’ on this, he would have been aged 77 when he died.

Tomb of Johan Zoffany

So who got it wrong? The entry in the burial register, although a faint copy, quite clearly records his age at the end of the line as 87, a full 10 years older than stated everywhere, added to this, his gravestone also gives his age as 87.

Zoffany burial register St Anns Richmond upon Thames
Zoffany burial in the register of St Anns Richmond upon Thames

We are unsure why no-one has ever questioned this. We know it is quite common for entries to be a year or so out, but it’s very unusual for them to be a whole 10 years out – so someone got it wrong, was it his wife who arranged for the tomb to be erected, did she simply get it wrong or was it historians, who over the years just assumed that what they had read about his date of birth was correct without checking any further?

Zoffany and his children

Zoffany with children info 1

zoffany family portrait 2

Self-Portrait with His Daughter Maria Theresa, James Cervetto, and Giacobbe Cervetto, c.1780 Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

He had 4 daughters, all four of whom he mentions in his will – Maria Theresa Louisa who was born on 4th April 1777, but who was not baptized until 1801.

Maria baptised 27 March 1801, born 4 april 1777

Cecilia Clementina Elizabeth (baptized  10th December 1780).

10th Dec 1780

Claudina Sophia Ann, (no sign of her baptism, but census returns confirm that she was born c1793) and finally Laura Helen Constantia who was reputed to have been born 1795 (RIP July 11 1876), making Johan quite elderly when she was born (62 or 72).

The strangest thing of all though is, despite his 4 daughters, his marriage to Mary Thomas, didn’t take place until 20th April 1805 making him either 72 or 82 at the time. He was reputed to have married Mary in Florence c1771/72 and it is said that they had a son whilst living there. However, Mary married as a spinster in 1805 so either the Italian wedding was not legal in England, or no marriage had previously taken place.

Zoffany marriage at St Pancras chruch 1805 to Mary Thomas

It begs the question as to why he left it so late. It can’t have been an attempt to legitimize his daughters before they were of an age to marry, as the two eldest, Maria and Cecilia, were married 1801 and 1799 respectively. Perhaps it was to give his wife security for when he died given that she was some considerable years younger than her husband? Mary died in 1832, aged 77.

We end this post with more questions than answers, perhaps someone in the future will be able to solve this mystery, so in the meantime, we will continue to enjoy his works.

The Academicians of the Royal Academy 1771-72
The Academicians of the Royal Academy 1771-72 Courtesy of The Royal Collection
Zoffany,_Johann_-_Portrait_of_Ann_Brown_in_the_Role_of_Miranda_-_c._1770
Portrait of Ann Brown in the Role of Miranda (c. 1770)
Johann_Zoffany_-_'The_Garden_at_Hampton_House,_with_Mr_and_Mrs_David_Garrick_taking_tea'
The Garden at Hampton House, with Mr and Mrs David Garrick taking tea, 1763

 

Featured image – The Tribuna of the Uffizi  1772-77 Courtesy of the Royal Collection

All Things History – Monthly Roundup

During our August break we decided that as well as posting our own blogs, we would add a monthly roundup of blogs written by other bloggers that we’ve enjoyed reading, a sort of  eclectic ‘in case you missed it‘ review.

Our original idea was merely to include Georgian posts given our blog title, but as our new book ventures through the Regency and into the Victorian Era this seems an ideal place for us to include some additional posts that are out of our usual time frame, so we’ve taken a somewhat bolder step of including blog posts from any period that grab our attention and that we think you might enjoy.

We plan to run this post monthly, on the first Sunday of each month.  So why not make yourself a drink,  put your feet up, relax and have a read. We hope you enjoy our choices, do let us know as we’d love to hear from you.

An Exceptional Embroidered Silk Waistcoat Worn by Lt. Gov William Tailer, 1720s-1730s

The German Princess

Have mercy on your dear child

1814 – the Summer of Celebrations

A Victorian Fancy Dress Ball : Popular Costumes of the Late 19th Century

21 Fascinating Facts about France in the 1700s

Wait, that’s not a prayer! When parish records turn raunchy

Anne Bradstreet – Poet and Feminist

The Victorian Workhouse: Relic of the Past?

A monster mortar of 1854 and its link to creation of the science of Seismology

Lord George Murray : Culloden Battlefield

WOW – word of the Week – Caper Merchant

Regency Fashion: The Gentleman’s Fancy Dress 

Understanding Sources: Churchwardens’ Accounts 

The Evolution of the Waistcoat in the 18th Century

Jane Johnson, a ‘disorderly’ woman of Rag Fair

‘Wholly Addicted to His Pleasure’: Lord Cornbury’s Dress

Living with Commercial Distress in 1826

How the 20 Questions game came to America

The ‘Music Scene’ in Georgian Norwich

 

Guest author : Naomi Clifford – The Story of Rebecca Hodges

Today we return from our summer break and are delighted to welcome back to ‘All Things Georgian’ one of our previous guest authors, Naomi Clifford, author of the true life Regency mystery, The Disappearance of Maria Glenn.

616ASr+2WoL._SX346_BO1,204,203,200_Naomi is presently researching women who went to the gallows in the late Georgian period for her next book. During her research she came across the story of Rebecca Hodges, so we will have you over to Naomi to tell more.

The Georgian justice system, inconsistent, brutal and stacked against the defendant as it was, still had room to accommodate those whose actions were beyond their own control. During my research into the women who were hanged in England and Wales in the late Georgian era, I came across a case which would now probably be prosecuted as stalking.

In 1818 Rebecca Hodges was indicted for setting fire to hayricks at Ward End near Aston and appeared before Judge Garrow at the Warwick Shire Hall. It was a notable case, not because rural arson was especially unusual but because of the long and disturbing history between the accused, Rebecca Hodges, a servant, and Samuel Birch, her former employer.

B1975.3.1044
A Farmhouse, by William Henry Hunt, courtesy of Yale Center for British Art

One Saturday in 1802, Rebecca left Birch’s farmhouse to fetch water. On her return on Monday, Birch dismissed her for being absent without permission. She decided that she would exact revenge. Over the next seven years, unrecognised because she dressed in men’s clothes, she followed him. On 27 February 1809, having bought a horse pistol and moulded her own bullets (she pressed lead with her fingers), again dressed as a man, she travelled to Ward End, on the way encountering a young lad at the turnpike house of whom she asked several questions about Birch, including whether he had gone to market and what horse he rode. Then she stalked Birch around his farm, hiding in an outbuilding until the moment was right. At around ten o’clock in the evening, she, peered through the kitchen window to check that Birch’s housekeeper and niece Sarah Bradbury had gone up to bed, lifted the latch of his farmhouse, crept up behind him as he slept in a chair and shot him twice, one of the bullets lodging in his head.

Birch did not at first realise that he had been wounded, but his niece and housekeeper Sarah Bradbury, alerted by the gunshot, came downstairs and saw that his head was ‘all over blood’. Mr Vickers, a surgeon in Birmingham, was fetched. He trepanned Birch’s skull and retrieved the bullet. The patient survived but suffered lifelong effects.

103293
Courtesy of the National Army Museum

Still dressed in male attire and carrying the loaded pistol, Rebecca was arrested in Birmingham, probably for showing some sort of erratic behaviour, and taken to Birmingham Gaol: William Payn, the gaoler, said later that he thought she had ‘broken out of a place of confinement’. He offered to send for her relatives in order to get her properly cared for, but she said it would be no use as she would just be arrested again.

‘For what?’ asked Payn.

‘For shooting a man,’ she replied.

In the courtyard she walked obsessively in a figure of eight and hung her head.

Later, once the connection between her confession and Mr Birch was known, she was brought to the Birmingham police office where she encountered Mr Vickers, the surgeon who had treated Birch. She said, ‘He [Samuel Birch] is not dead, I hope?,’ and when asked whether Birch had ever ill-treated her, replied, ‘No, never.’ She claimed that they had had a romantic relationship and, although she liked Birch very much.

Sir John Bayley, courtesy of the National Portrait Gallery by William Holl Sr, after William Russell, stipple engraving, (circa 1808)

Rebecca was tried in front of Judge Bayley. It was clear that she had committed the deed and that there had been a large degree of planning, but the question was whether she was in her right mind. Francis Woodcock, a magistrate living in Worcestershire, told the court that she had lived in his household for three years and had shown symptoms of insanity, talking to herself, going missing, dancing alone in barns and fields and picking up sticks in one place and laying them down in another. He said she was ‘virtuous but harmless’. Her sister also gave evidence, describing her walking without shoes or wearing only one of them, going out with few clothes on and on one occasion trying to hang herself. Justice Bayley thought that she was not in her right mind and told the jury that if they had any doubt they should acquit her, which they did. She was ordered to be incarcerated in Warwick Gaol as a criminal lunatic. In 1816 she was transferred to Bethlehem Hospital in London, where after fourteen months she was discharged, the doctors there declaring her perfectly healthy.

Bethlem Hosptial at St George's Fields 1828

After Rebecca returned to Birmingham in early 1818 she lived a hand-to-mouth existence of casual employment, possibly combined with part-time prostitution. She often got drunk and was locked out of her lodgings. One constant was her resentment of Birch and after writing letters to him, pleading and threatening by turn, she once more travelled to the farm at Ward End intent on revenge. This time she fire to his haystacks, another capital offence.

Tennant, John F.; Loading the Hay Wagon; Wolverhampton Arts and Heritage; http://www.artuk.org/artworks/loading-the-hay-wagon-18819
Tennant, John F.; Loading the Hay Wagon; Wolverhampton Arts and Heritage

She was soon arrested and the circumstantial evidence against her was overwhelming. Witnesses spoke of a woman wearing a long dark cloak and bonnet; similar clothes were found in her lodgings. A linen draper, called as an expert witness, confirmed that a section of purple spotted scarf found near the fire matched one in her possession. A tinder box that had been discarded on the road contained small pieces of cotton resembling the material of one of her gowns.

Mezzotint of Sir William Garrow, 1810, held in the Harvard Law Library

During the trial Rebecca loudly and repeatedly berated and insulted the witnesses, each time Garrow patiently exhorting her to wait until it was her turn to question them. But despite his instruction to the jury to ‘keep in mind… the dreadful punishment that must necessarily follow a conviction’ they did not even pretend to discuss her possible innocence and within three minutes delivered a guilty verdict. While Rebecca screamed for mercy (‘My Lord, have mercy upon me! … Oh spare my life! Only spare my life, my Lord! I’m innocent! I’m innocent!’) the judge sentenced her to death and warned her not to entertain hopes of a respite.

In law there were four kinds of insanity: perpetual infirmity of mind from birth; the result of sickness, grief or other accident; intermittent (classed as insanity when it manifested and at times of lucidity not so); and a state arising from ‘vicious acts’ such as drunkenness. Rebecca Hodges’ gun attack on Mr Birch may have had been planned well in advance but her erratic behaviour before this  showed that she was not in her right mind and was enough to persuade the judge.

e008299403-v6
Courtesy of the Library and Archives, Canada

Rebecca did not go to the gallows. She was respited and her sentence commuted. In 1819 she was transported for life on board the Lord Wellington in the company of two other Warwickshire women, Elizabeth and Rebecca Bamford, who had themselves narrowly avoided execution. They had been deeply involved in the family business of forgery and uttering and their sixty-year-old mother, Ann Bamford, had been hanged the previous year.

Rebecca Hodges Transportation record
Rebecca’s transportation record

In Australia, Rebecca continued to cause concern. She was first placed in the factory at Parmatta, later sent out to work as a domestic servant. Her propensity to go missing landed her in trouble in 1824 and she was punished with another spell at Parmatta. She was described in 1827 as ‘incompetent to any kind of work’. In 1838 she was granted a conditional pardon. Her date of death is unknown.

Sources:

Bury and Norfolk Post, 8 March 180; Northampton Mercury, 25 April 1818.

Willis, W., An Essay on the Rationale of Circumstantial Evidence (1838). London: Longman, Orme, Brown, Green and Longmans.

On Insanity: Mr Amos’s Lecture on Medical Jurisprudence. London Medical Gazette, 2 July 1831.

Unknown (1818). Trial of Rebecca Hodges. Warwick: S. Sharp.

18th Century Lottery

A Lottery is a taxation Upon all the fools in creation;

And Heav’n be prais’d It is easily rais’d. . . The Lottery

Henry Fielding

We have come across this question in the newspaper, posed to the legal profession on 20th May 1770 about a woman’s right to retain her winning from the state lottery for herself questioning whether her husband had any right to a share of it. So far, we have not found a response to it in the newspapers, so the challenge to our readers is this – does anyone know how such an issue would have been dealt with? any help gratefully received.

john and mary 25 may 1770

John marries Mary, and agrees that part of her fortune, which is in the funds, shall be settled upon her the said Mary, for her own separate use. Mary, from the interest of her money, buys a ticket in the lottery, and gets a ten thousand pound prize. Query, Has John any right, in law, over this ten thousand pounds: or has Mary any obligation, in conscience, to give her it to her husband? A solution of this question will end all disputes, and quiet the much disturbed minds of

John and Mary Somebody

With the question of lotteries in mind we thought we would take a look at 18th century lotteries and see whether it was as popular then as it is today. The answer in short is – yes, very much so.

The lottery ticket, or, The sunshine of hopeThe ticket a blank, or, The clouds of despair 1792

As today, the lottery then had the potential to make massive change to people’s lives. We tend to think that things like the national lottery are very modern, but this is far from the truth.

State lotteries began as early as the 1690s and were established by the Bank of England. In the 1700s, as well as generating money for ‘good causes’ it also generated money which enabled Britain to go to war, for example it was reported that just over a quarter of money raised was used in fighting Napoleon. In the mid-1700s the lottery assured potential punters that they would not lose and that at a minimum they would receive their stake back and potentially win a large life changing amount of money. There was usually one prize winning ticket for every four blanks.

The Lottery’ by William Hogarth 1721 Courtesy of The Met Museum
‘The Lottery’ by William Hogarth 1721 Courtesy of The Met Museum showing the lottery wheels

Apart from individuals many borough corporations also bought lottery tickets for the benefit of poor children; the church was also involved with many parish clerics gambling. The tickets were quite expensive, but then so were the prizes, this led to people who couldn’t afford to buy a full ticket purchasing a share. People even place advertisements in the newspapers for people to share with –

Daily Advertiser (London, England), Wednesday, September 24, 1777
Daily Advertiser (London, England), Wednesday, September 24, 1777

Below is one of numerous examples of what you could win when buying a share.

Lloyd's Evening Post (London, England), January 31, 1794
Lloyd’s Evening Post (London, England), January 31, 1794

It was reported that in 1798 four low paid workers shared a winning ticket valued at £20,000 (approximately £1.2m in today’s money), a female servant from Holborn, a servant of the Duke of Roxburgh, a keeper of a fruit stall and a vegetable carrier from Covent Garden.

gardener greengrocer
Courtesy of Lewis Walpole Library

It was even possible for gamblers to insure themselves against drawing a blank.

lwlpr04121
To the subscribers to the Lottery Magazine for 1777 : this plate (representing the four favourites of fortune who receiv’d the four hundred guineas for last years Lottery Magazine) is most gratefully inscribed by their obliged humble sert. E. Johnson

Georgian cakes and puddings

Have recently made the most delicious ginger and lemon cake from a modern, detailed, step by step recipe on the internet it seemed an opportune time to see what the recipes for cakes and puddings were like in the early 1800s. The recipe books seem to give ample instruction regarding quantity, but as to what to do with those quantities having weighed them out, is, in some instances sadly lacking; they have the most spectacular ability to go horribly wrong.

A Country Kitchen by William Collins. V&A Collection.
A Country Kitchen by William Collins. V&A Collection.

This first recipe for gingerbread bears little relationship to the one made the other day!

To make gingerbread

Take half a pound of flour dried, and half a pound of brown sugar dried and two ounces of ginger fresh pounded, three pounds of treacle, one pound of orange-peel cut small, two ounces of carvie seeds, if you like it, one pound and a half of butter melted and all well kneaded together, rolled out, cut it into cakes, baked very hard but not turned. It should be a rather quick good oven. A little citron may be added also, if you like it.

Dutch Cake

Two pound of flour, eight eggs, one pint and a half of milk, and one pound and a quarter of butter, half a pound of pounded almonds, half a pound of citron, one pound of currants and some yeast. It is very good for a cake and must stand before the fire to rise.

Dutch Waffles

Take four eggs, beat well with half a pound of flour; melt a quarter of a pound of butter in a pint of milk; let the milk and butter stand till they are almost cold, then mix them with the flour and eggs with one spoonful of yeast and a little salt; be sure to beat them well; let it stand three or four hours to rise before you put it in the waffle iron, and bake them on a quick fire.

almond cheesecake

A custard pudding

Take the yolks and whites of four eggs, well beat up with a spoonful of flour, a little nutmeg, about half a pint of milk and sugar to your taste, boiled in a small china bowl. The sauce – white wine and butter.

To make sponge biscuits

Take the weight of nine eggs in double refined sugar, beat and sifted; break the whites into a pan and beat them up to a froth, then put in the yolks and a little lemon peel, grated; put in the sugar and mix them well together. Then take the weight of five eggs, and mix it with the rest; put them in paper shapes into the oven: let the oven be no hotter than you can bear your hand in it.

And, when you’ve finished all the baking, time to put your feet up and have a well earned rest!

Source:

The new practice of cookery, pastry, baking, and preserving: being the country housewife’s best friend

Feature image – Kitchen Interior, John Cranch, Bristol Museum & Art Gallery

King George II’s Royal Household Running Costs

Today we thought we would take a look at those employed in the Royal household of George II. We had no idea how many people it took to look after George II and his family until we came across a fascinating little book published 1734, that told us not only who was employed in each position but also their salary and duties. We don’t have enough space to cover all the roles (as there were so many!) so we have just included a selection, for more information, as the book itself is available online.

The salary bill for the Royal household must have been enormous, although there was major disparity between the wages of those who received board wages and those who did not and between those who were employed ‘downstairs’ and those ‘upstairs’.

As a guide, £100 in 1730 equates to slightly less than £10,000 in today’s money.

Ramsay, Allan; Philip Dormer Stanhope, 4th Earl of Chesterfield; National Portrait Gallery, London; http://www.artuk.org/artworks/philip-dormer-stanhope-4th-earl-of-chesterfield-157623
Ramsay, Allan; Philip Dormer Stanhope, 4th Earl of Chesterfield; National Portrait Gallery, London

So we begin with Lord Steward, who had overall of control of the King’s household and the servants under his direction ‘below stairs’.  The post was held by The Right Honourable the Earl of Chesterfield for which he received £100 per annum, plus £1360 per annum board wages. Board wages were sums of money given to the holder of the position to resided with their employers rather than in their own home.

van Loo, Jean-Baptiste; Horatio, 1st Baron Walpole of Wolterton, as Envoy and Minister-Plenipotentiary at The Hague; Norfolk Museums Service; http://www.artuk.org/artworks/horatio-1st-baron-walpole-of-wolterton-as-envoy-and-minister-plenipotentiary-at-the-hague-228921
Jean-Baptiste van Loo; Horatio, 1st Baron Walpole of Wolterton, as Envoy and Minister-Plenipotentiary at The Hague; Norfolk Museums Service

Cofferer of the King’s Household, this role was another in the King’s gift and was held by Horatio Walpole Esq whose wages were £100 plus £400 board wages. His duties were, amongst others, to pay the wages of several of the King’s servants above and below stairs.

Bake-House

Here is baked all the King’s bread, and bread for the household etc. which is delivered it the pantry every day.  The clerk, Thomas Holland Esq. is paid £80 per annum, John Clark, Yeoman £50 per annum and 2 grooms who were paid £40 per annum.

Buttery

In the buttery is kept all the liquors, except the wine and delivered out to the Officer in Waiting. This again is managed by 2 Yeomans, Peter Campbell Gent. who received £60 and John Turner, £50.

Spicery

The clerk of the Spicery keeps and delivers our all the spices etc. for the service of the Household which he receives from the tradesmen and keeps account of the same.  Richard D’Avenant Esq.; £100 per annum.

Ewry

Takes care of the linnen for the King’s own table, lays the cloth, and serves up water in the silver ewers after dinner, whence the office has its name.  William Beager, £60 and James Towers £50. 2 Grooms £40 per annum.

Confectionary

Poultry

Are purveyors of butter, eggs, fruit, pulse and all greens etc and deliver them out according to the Bill of Fare which being brought to them, the take care to have provided. John Skinner Esq; Clerk, £80 per annum; George Ackers, Yeoman £50 per annum plus 2 Grooms £40 per annum .

Harbingers

Whenever the King travels, they take lodgings for his Majesty and the household and ride a day before.  Peter La Roche, Gentleman-Harbingers £60 per annum, plus 5 yeomen at £50 per annum.

Carr-Takers

When the court travels, they have charge to provide waggons, carts etc to transport the King’s furniture and baggage. 2 Yeomen at £50 per annum, 3 Grooms at £40 each.

Lawndry

attributed to William Hoare, oil on canvas, circa 1735-1745
Charles, Duke of Grafton, Courtesy of the National Portrait Gallery, attributed to William Hoare, oil on canvas, circa 1735-1745

We now move on to ‘above stairs’ which was the responsibility of the Lord Chamberlain of the King’s household, a post held by Charles, Duke of Grafton, for which he received a salary of £100 plus board wages of £1,100.  The Lord Chamberlain has the principal command of all the King’s servant above stairs (except in the bedchamber, which is wholly under the Groom of the Stole), who are all sworn by him, or by his warrant to the gentlemen ushers. He has also inspection of all the officers of the wardrobe at all the King’s houses, and of the removing wardrobes, beds, tents, revels, musick, comedians, hunting, messengers, trumpeters, drummers, handicrafts, artizans retained by the King’s service; as well as of the serjeant at arms, physicians, surgeons, apothecaries and finally, of his Majesty’s chaplains.

Gentlemen of the King’s Bed-Chamber

These are frequently call’d Lord of the bed-chamber. They were ‘till late years, but eleven in number, whereof the Groom of the Stole, is the first, who, by his office has the honour to put on the King’s firs garment, or shirt, every morning, but it is now alternatively perform’d by the Lord in waiting, which they take in turn weekly, and attend in the King’s bed-chamber, when he eats in private; for then the cup-bearer, carvers and sewers do not wait. They are in the King’s gift.

800px-Francis_Godolphin,_2nd_Earl_of_Godolphin_by_Sir_Godfrey_Kneller,_Bt
Francis Godolphin, 2nd Earl of Godolphin by Sir Godfrey Kneller

Groom of the Stole, Francis, Earl of Godolphin.

Grooms of the King’s Bed-chamber £500 per annum

They wait in the King’s chamber during his Majesty’s dressing and wait at dinner, take wine etc., from the under-servants and give it to the Lords to serve to his majesty. When the gentlemen of the bed-chamber are not there, they perform the office, and have waiting weekly, two and two, by turns. They are in the King’s gift.

Pages of Preference £25 per annum. They are the subordinate also to the gentlemen ushers, wait in the Privy chamber, and take care of fire and candles etc.

Coffer-Bearers £54 per annum. When the court removes, they take care to see the baggage loaded.

Laundress of the Body Linen

Mrs. Margaret Purcell £400 per annum

Necessary Woman

Mrs. Susannah White £121 5 shillings per annum, for cleaning his Majesty’s private lodgings and find necessaries thereto.

We really like this one! Master of the Revels. Francis Henry Lee Esq. £10 per annum.

His office is to order all things which relate to the performance of tragedies, comedies, masques, balls etc. at court. He hath likewise a jurisdiction of granting licences to all who travel, to act plays, puppet shews, or other such like diversions; which is very beneficial to him and increases the smallness of the salary to a very considerable income: neither can of right any new play, at either of the two houses, be acted till it has passed his perusal and licence first, that he may castrate anything which shall be offensive or religion or virtue.

Groom-Porter £550 per annum

Has the inspection of the King’s lodgings, and takes care that they are provided with tables, chairs, firing etc. As also to provide cards, dice etc. when there is playing at court and to decide disputes which arise in gaming.

Messenger of the Avery, Nathaniel Bridgewater, £15 per annum

Thomas Panton Esq., for keeping six race horses at Newmarket, with all necessaries £500 per annum.

Master of the Tennis court

Has the keeping of the king’s tennis court and the profits which arise by playing; he has likewise the apartments belonging to it, which yield considerable perquisites. Charles Fitzroy Esq. £130 per annum.

perhaps from the workshop of Sir Henry Cheere, 1st Bt, painted plaster bust, circa 1740
Colley Cibber Courtesy of the National Portrait Gallery, perhaps from the workshop of Sir Henry Cheere, 1st Bt, painted plaster bust, circa 1740

Poet Laureat, Colley Cibber Esq. £60 per annum

There we other listed for whom there was no salary mentioned.

Embroiderer – Mr Thomas Haywood

Operator of the teeth – Mr. Peter Hemet

Chocolate 1
Courtesy of History Extra Magazine

Chocolate maker – Mr Alphonse. Now that’s a job we would have enjoyed!

One we wouldn’t have been so keen on – Rat Killer, Mrs Elizabeth Stubbs.

And we finish with one close to our hearts, that of Historiographer, Rob Stephens, Esq. £200 per annum.

 

Feature image – The Family of George II c. 1731-2, William Hogarth, RCIN 401358.  Courtesy of the Royal Collection

Legends of the sea

There have always been rumours of mermaids and mermen in the seas, and these appear to have been seen on a fairly regular basis during the eighteenth-century with the newspapers so helpfully providing us with detailed descriptions of such creatures. We will leave our readers to judge for themselves whether any of these accounts could have even a grain of truth.

The Mermaid of Galloway by William Hilton II (1786–1839) Tabley House Collection; http://www.artuk.org/artworks/the-mermaid-of-galloway-103846
The Mermaid of Galloway by William Hilton II (1786–1839)
Tabley House Collection

Weekly Journal or Saturday’s Post, Saturday, August 31, 1717

Letters from Leghorn of the 15th tell us that there has been seen in those seas a terrible mermaid or rather merman; that it shows itself at least 13 or 14-foot-high above the water; but if any boat or vessel makes towards it, then it makes a strange frightful noise and plunges into the sea. Several that have been it represent it as the most hideous monster that has ever been seen in the world.

Dublin Journal, Tuesday, October 12, 1725

Some particular advices from Brest, in France say that on that coast has lately appeared a strange sort of sea monster, in the form of a man, eight-foot-high call’d a merman; his teeth are white as ivory, he hath black curl’d hair, flat nose and in other members proportionable to his stature without deformity.

Weekly Journal or British Gazetteer (London, England), Saturday, December 11, 1725 provides a somewhat lengthy and detailed description of the merman, sadly there seems to be no evidence of any of the people named actually existing – unless you know otherwise, if so, we would love to hear from you.

The wind being easterly, we had thirty fathoms of water, when at ten o’clock in the morning a sea-monster like a man appeared near our ship; first on the larboard where the mate was, whose name is William Lomone, who took a grappling iron to pull him up: but our captain named Oliver Morin, hindered him, being afraid that the monster would drag him away into the sea. They said Lomone struck him only on the back to make him turnabout, that he might view him the better. The monster being struck, showed his face, having his two hands closed, as if he had expressed some anger. Afterwards he went round the ship. When he was at the stern he took hold of the helm with both hands and we were obliged to make it last, lest he should damage it. From thence he proceeded to the starboard, swimming still as men do. When he came to the forepart of the ship he viewed for some time the figure that was in our prow, which represented a beautiful woman; and then he rose out of the water, as if he had been willing to catch that figure. All this happened in sight of the whole crew. Afterwards he came again to the larboard, where they presented to him a codfish banging down with a rope. He handled it without spoiling it and then remove the length of cable and came again to the stern where he took hold of the helm a second time.

At that very moment, Captain Morin got a harping iron ready and took it himself to strike him with it, but the cordage being entangled he missed his aim and the harping iron touched only the monster, who turned about sowing his face as he had done before. Afterwards he came again to the fore part and viewed again the figure. The mate called for the harping iron but he was frightened fancying that this monster was one La Commune, who had killed himself in the ship the year before and had been thrown into the sea in the same passage. He was contented to push his back against the harping iron and the monster showed his face as he had done at other times.

Afterwards he came along the board so that one might have given him the hand. He had the boldness to take a rope held up by John Mazier and John Dessiere who being willing to pluck it out of his hands, drew him to our board and rising out of the water to the navel we observed that his breast was as large as that of a woman of the best plight. He turned upon his back and appeared to be a male. Afterwards he swam again round the ship and then went away; we have never seen him since.

I believe that from 10 o’clock till 12 that this monster was along our board, if the crew had not been frightened he might have been taken many times with the hand being only two feet distant.

The monster is about eight-foot-long: his skin is brown and tawny without any scales. All his motions are like those of men; the eyes of a proportionate size, a little mouth, a large and flat nose, very white teeth, black hair, the chin covered with a mossy beard, a sort of whiskers under the nose, the ears like those of men, fins between the fingers and toes of his hands and feet, like those of ducks. Which is certified to be true by Captain Oliver Morin, John Martin, pilot and the whole crew consisting of two and thirty men.

Figure of a man with the tail of a fish, large prominent ears and four talons to each hand and foot, standing on a beach clutching a fish; said to be a life-drawing of a merman captured near Exeter, 1737. © The Trustees of the British Museum
Figure of a man with the tail of a fish, large prominent ears and four talons to each hand and foot, standing on a beach clutching a fish; said to be a life-drawing of a merman captured near Exeter, 1737.
© The Trustees of the British Museum

Common Sense or The Englishman’s Journal, Saturday, July 29, 1738 (we’re loving the title of the publication in light of the subject matter!). It provides us with a completely different description of a merman.

4 feet and a half in length, having a body much resembling that of a man, with a genital member of considerable size; together with jointed legs and feet extending from his belly 12 or 13 inches, with fins at this thighs and larger ones, like wings in the form of which those angels are often painted, at his shoulders, with a broad head of very uncommon form, a mouth 6 inches wide, smellers, or kind of whiskers at his nostrils, and two spout holes behind his eyes through which he ejected water when take 30 or 40 feet high.

And for our final offering we have, from the Universal Spectator and Weekly Journal), Saturday, May 5, 1739 the following:

They write from Vigo in Spain that some fishermen took on that coast a sort of monster, or merman, 5 feet and a half from its foot to its head, which is like that of a goat. It has a long beard and mustachoes, a back skin somewhat hairy; a very long neck, short arms and hands longer and bigger than they ought to be in proportion to the rest of the body; long fingers, like those of a man with nail like claws; very long toes join’d like the feet of a duck and the heels furnish’d with fins resembling the winged feet with which the painters represent Mercury. It has also a fin at the lower end of its back, which is 12 inches long and 15 or 16 broad.

Header image: The Carta Marina, a map of the Nordic countries showing various sea monsters (via Wikimedia).

18th century crime and punishment

For what were regarded as the most heinous crimes the penalty was death, in some case this was commuted to transportation. Prison was another option, in the case of some women, the ‘shrew’s fiddle’ was used as a way of punishing women who were caught fighting in public.

Today however, we thought we would take a look at what in modern society could possibly be regarded as ‘naming and shaming’ – the public use of either the stocks or the pillory.

Eyam Stocks Britiain express
The stocks in the village of Eyam, Derbyshire, courtesy of Britain Express

Stocks and pillory’s date back centuries, but even as late on as the Georgian era their use was still extremely evident as at least several days a week there was mention of them being used in the newspapers.The stocks were mainly a mechanism used to confine the prisoner by their ankles and usually accommodated two people at once. The pillory was a similar mechanism however, it had three holes, one for the neck and two smaller ones either side to secure the wrists. Again these were often designed to take two prisoners at once.

Here in Britain the use of the pillory as a method of punishment was not abolished until 1837 despite several attempts to have it scrapped much earlier in the 1780’s, but the stocks remained for a few more decades.

We’ll leave you to decide whether the punishment fitted the crime.

London Evening Post, June 9, 1750 – June 12, 1750

On Saturday last two women stood on the pillory at St Margaret’s Hill, Southwark, for keeping a bawdy house and being instrumental in debauching several young girls.

The pillory at Charing Cross This engraving was published as Plate 62 of Microcosm of London 1809
The pillory at Charing Cross This engraving was published as Plate 62 of Microcosm of London 1809

Gazetteer and London Daily Advertiser, Tuesday, March 9, 1756

Yesterday two of the thief-takers stood in the pillory in Smithfield, and as soon as they were fixed the mob began to use them very severely, which usage continued near 40 minutes during which time Eagan, otherwise Gahagan was killed, and then the mob desisted from throwing anything at them for the remaining part of the hour. They were both carried back in the cart to Newgate, but as Eagan was dead, his body was put into a place called the Pump room and the Coroner has issued

Gazetteer and London Daily Advertiser, Thursday, May 6, 1756

Gloucester, May 1

This week was held here the general quarter sessions of the peace for this country, when John James, for felony was ordered to be transported for seven years and Mary Morris for keeping a bawdy house, was ordered to stand in the pillory at Cirencester, fined 5l. and to be imprisoned till the same be paid, and then to give security for her good behaviour for three years, and also to remain in goal till such security be found.

Strutt, William; Stocks Closed Firmly with an Upward Tendency; Kirklees Museums and Galleries; http://www.artuk.org/artworks/stocks-closed-firmly-with-an-upward-tendency-21598
Strutt, William; Stocks Closed Firmly with an Upward Tendency; Kirklees Museums and Galleries;

London Evening Post, April 1, 1760 – April 3, 1760

Francis Hayes was tried on two indictments, the first for violently assaulting Anne Lemman, an infant aged seven years with an intent to commit rape and thereby giving her the foul disease; and the second indictment was for violently assaulting and abusing Mary Swan, an infant aged eight years, with an intent also to commit rape, and thereby giving her the foul disease. On the first, he was sentenced to imprisonment for six months, to stand in the pillory and to give 100l security for his good behaviour for three years; and on the second he was sentenced to six months imprisonment after the former time was expired, to stand once in the pillory and to give 100l security for his good behaviour for three years.

Public Ledger or The Daily Register of Commerce and Intelligence, Thursday, January 8, 1761

Yesterday a man and a woman stood on the pillory on the south side of St Paul’s, opposite the Sun tavern, for keeping a disorderly house, notwithstanding, they behaved with the utmost assurance, they met with no ill treatment from the populace.

Cocking the Greeks courtesy of Lewis Walpole Library
‘Cocking the Greeks’ courtesy of Lewis Walpole Library

Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser, Wednesday, October 23, 1765

Worcester, Oct 17

On Saturday last, one Elizabeth Hollington stood in the pillory in our corn market being convicted at the quarter sessions last week, of being a cheat and imposter and endevouring to extort money from a gentleman of the parish on pretence of being with child by him.

Public Advertiser, Monday, August 16, 1790

Saturday two footmen for an unnatural crime underwent their sentence by standing in the pillory at Hay-Hill, Mayfair, for one hour, between one and two. Their reception was extremely warm, by a very numerous, but we cannot add a brilliant spectatory; the women especially treated them with an abundance of eggs, apples and turnips.

Forgotten Connections and Divided Loyalties

We would very much like to welcome a new guest to our blog, Avellina Balestri (alias Rosaria Marie), she is a Catholic freelance writer who resides in the scenic and historic Penn-Mar borderlands. She is a founding member and Editor-in-Chief of The Fellowship of the King (www.thefellowshipoftheking.net), an online magazine dedicated to merging spirituality and creativity. She is a long-time Britophile and historical enthusiast, taking a special interest in the Age of Horse and Musket. She hopes that her writings help to put a human face to history, keeping alive the unique legacies of those who have gone before us. For more information on her writings, visit Avellina’s Facebook Page: www.facebook.com/avellinambalestri

We will now hand you over to Avellina:

The ‘rebels’ and ‘redcoats’ of the American Revolution are often portrayed as having been completely disassociated. However, the colonial relationship with the mother country linked many through ties of blood and affection. The following illustrates some of these forgotten connections.

Mrs. Thomas Gage, 1771. John Singleton Copley, 1738-1815. Courtesy of Timken Museum
Mrs. Thomas Gage, 1771. John Singleton Copley, 1738-1815.
Courtesy of Timken Museum

In 1757, Margaret Kemble of New Jersey was introduced to British Colonel Thomas Gage who was serving in America during The French and Indian War. He was attracted by her beauty and intellect, and she by his gentle manner. After their courtship, they were married and began to raise a family.

Appointed royal governor of New York in 1763, he and his wife hosted lavish galas at their mansion. Colonel George Washington, a fellow veteran from Virginia, was their frequent guest. But dark clouds looming on the horizon would put friendships to the test.

After the Boston Tea Party in 1773, General Gage was sent to Massachusetts to quell the upheaval. There he was visited by another colonial comrade, Major Israel Putnam, who Gage invited to rejoin the British service. The offer was courteously declined.

Margaret began to feel emotionally torn about her husband’s role in opposition to her fellow Americans. Quoting Shakespeare in a letter to a friend, she wrote: “Husband, I cannot pray that thou mayst win…Whoever wins, on that side shall I lose…”

 Taking for granted her allegiance to the king, he failed to assess how divided her loyalties were and continued to confide in her, personally and militarily.

B1977.14.45
B1977.14.45

On April 18, 1775, the general ordered rebel ammunition seized, but Paul Revere roused the minute men with the cry “The regulars are coming!” Both sides would make their stand at Lexington.

Major John Pitcairn, who was quartered next door to Revere and known to socialize with prominent patriots, was the leader of the British advance guard. Now, all conviviality aside, he confronted the militia with a stern countenance and threatened, “Disperse, ye rebels, or you’re all dead men!”

Then a succession of shots rang out, sparking the inevitable conflict. Later that day, snipers ambushed the redcoats and wounded Pitcairn, who was thrown from his horse as his men retreated in chaos. His mount and prized pistols in his saddlebag were captured.

Reports informed Gage of the bloodshed and that the high ground had been taken by a new rebel general, none other than his old friend, Israel Putnam. But there was worse to come. Circumstantial evidence indicated that Margaret had divulged British troop movements to the Patriots and was, at heart, a ‘Daughter of Liberty.’ Although unprepared for a coordinated attack, the distraught general impulsively commanded Breeds Hill to be taken by storm on June 17, 1775.

Dug in to face the onslaught, Putnam rallied his men. Armed with Pitcairn’s silver pistols, taken as trophies of war, the rugged New Englander gave the famous order: “Don’t fire until you see the whites of their eyes! Shoot for the reddest coats!”

The first and second British assaults were repulsed with horrendous casualties. In a twist of  irony, the third and final charge was spear-headed by Major Pitcairn, brandishing his sword and shouting in his Scottish burr, “Now, for the glory of the marines!”

He was struck by a barrage of bullets and collapsed into the arms of his lieutenant son, dying a casualty of Gage’s folly. He was buried at Old North Church where the signal lanterns had been hung. Paul Revere would later be interred nearby him, neighbors in life and death.

John_Pitcairn

His ranks decimated and Boston surrounded, a despairing Gage took to drink and exclaimed bitterly: “I wish this cursed place would burn.”

General George Washington, the commander-in-chief of the Continental Army, strongly protested the ill treatment of American prisoners-of-war. But Gage refused to recognize his military authority and right to negotiate. Washington’s response to his long-time acquaintance was forthright: “Sir, having been chosen by a free people in the cause of liberty, I can claim the most worthy authority.”

As starvation gripped the besieged city, General Putnam, in a gesture of mercy towards Gage’s large family, sent a cut of beef to alleviate their hunger. A ray of light had penetrated the darkness of war.

Recalled to England, Gage was stripped of his titles and disgraced. Margaret would never see her beloved homeland again. Nevertheless, through love, forgiveness, and mutual devotion to their eleven children, they weathered the storm of divided loyalties.

The Gages, Washington, Putnam, Revere, and Pitcairn were all vital threads woven through the tapestry of the American Revolution. As we remember their forgotten connections and pray for their immortal souls, we can learn a deeper sense of compassion for what both sides endured, as well as an appreciation for their nobility of spirit. Inspired by the Christian principles of our ancestors, we must strive to be the patriots of today by upholding their legacy of courage, perseverance, and reconciliation.

Gruesome Murder at the Grey Coat School in 1773

As is often the way we were researching something completely different when we came across the story of a gruesome murder which we thought we would share with you that took place at the Grey Coat School (the one attended today by David Cameron’s daughter).

Grey Coat School

Henry Lockington, a young man aged about twenty years, was examined on suspicion of having willfully murdered Alice Martin, a nurse at the Grey Coat school (commonly known as the Grey Coat hospital) in Tothill Fields, Westminster.

Greycoat school
Courtesy of British History Online

The newspaper, The Morning Chronicle and London Advertiser dated  Thursday, March 11, 1773 provides the details:

It appeared by the evidence of Mr. Boorten, master of the school and four of the charity children, that the prisoner came to the hospital on Saturday evening, Monday noon and Monday evening, that he always asked to speak with Mrs. Martin and that after being let in he was not so keen to go out the gate.

Miss Berry proved that Mrs. Martin, after letting him out, told her on the Sunday that he was the son of an acquaintance, that he came to borrow money, that she had lent him a guinea, that his mother owed her four guineas, and that he then wanted more than a guinea, and offered her his note; but being an apprentice, she did not choose to lend her money on such security.

A hat and a bloody knife found in the apartment of the deceased were produced, when Mr. Walker of James Street, Covent Garden (the master of the prisoner), after being sworn in the manner an oath is usually administered to a member of the Kirk of Scotland, declared he believed the hat to be the property of the prisoner, and one of his journeymen swore to having seen the knife in the possession of Lockington.

The lad appeared to be exceedingly penitent and confessed that he had committed the murder, he could give no account of why he did it, but a motive of covetousness.  Twenty-two guineas and some other matters the property of the deceased were produced by Mr. Bond who found them on the prisoner when he apprehended him.

The death wound was a cut four inches across the throat, where the incision was so deep that the wind pipe was nearly parted.  The deceased also received a cut on the head and another in the side of her face; it appeared that she did not fall till she quitted the room in which the wounds were given by the prisoner.

Murder is one of those horrid crimes at which nature revolts; and it rarely happens that the wretch who wars against humanity, and assumes the dreadful power of depriving a fellow creature of existence, escapes the merited punishment.

Alice Martin was buried Thursday 11th March 1773 at St John the Evangelist, Smith Square, Westminster.

We tried to find out what became of Henry, expecting a sentence to be handed down, but instead we found his death in the newspaper, but no explanation as to how he died. From the Old Bailey Session Papers is seems likely that he was due to be transported as his name was amongst a list of felons for whom their sentence was transportation.

died in gaol

He was buried as a dissenter on 10th April 1773 at Bunhill Fields burial ground. no explanation was offered as to the cause of his demise.

Henry Lockington

 

l66-a096t

Header Image

Westminster Abbey from Tothill Fields [where the Grey Coat School was situated] by John Varley, Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

Other Sources

The Ipswich Journal 13 March 1773

Bath Chronicle and Weekly Gazette 18 March 1773

Middlesex Journal or Universal Evening Post , April 6, 1773 – April 8, 1773

London Lives 

Image of Grey Coat School was courtesy of  Ash Rare Books

18th Century Stomachers

Like everything in fashion, stomachers came in and out of vogue, but during the 18th century they were very much statement pieces especially those made for the wealthier members of society and the newspapers always deemed elaborate stomachers worthy of mention when describing the outfits worn by the nobility.

A stomacher is a triangular shaped panel that fills the front of a woman’s gown and was worn from around the 15th century, but of course today we’re going to take a look at some of the ones worn in the 18th century.

004
c1750. Courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum.

By the end of the 18th-century stomachers could be as deep as 10 inches below the waist which would have made them very uncomfortable for a woman to sit down.

In this painting, we can clearly see the beautiful stomacher worn by Madame de Pompadour, renown for her love of fashion.

1759. Madame De Pompadour courtesy of the Wallace Collection 1
1759. Madame De Pompadour courtesy of the Wallace Collection

They were often embroidered or covered with jewels, none more so than those designed for royalty as shown in this newspaper article.

St. James’s Chronicle or the British Evening Post, August 13, 1761

The rich diamond stomacher for our intended Queen is quite finished, and is the richest thing of the kind ever seen; the capital stone of which is worth about fifteen thousand pounds and the whole piece is valued at one hundred thousand pounds.

Charlotte
Allan Ramsay (1713-84) Queen Charlotte (1744-1818) c.1760-61 Oil on canvas | RCIN 405308 Courtesy of the Royal Collection

Morning Post and Gazetteer, Thursday, March 13, 1800

Fashions vary here as often as the wind; Negligés are now worn, the stomacher of which falls lower than the girdle. The robes are very open at the bosom. The girdles are tied either before or behind.

Boston Museum of fine Art
1730-1740. White cotton embroidered with polychrome silk and gilt-silver yarns in vining floral motif. Two side panels lace with gilt-silver lacing over center panel; four flaring tabs at base; gilt-silver galloon trim. 6 linen tabs and 2 linen ties at sides. Linen lining. The Elizabeth Day McCormick Collection Courtesy of the Boston Museum of Fine Art

General Evening Post, October 8, 1778

On Thursday evening about seven o’clock their majesties set out from St James’s to stand sponsors for the newborn daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Chandos: her majesty was magnificently dressed in white, flounced with silver and a superb stomacher; the Countess of Hertford, as Lady of the Bedchamber and Miss Vernon and Jefferys, all dress in white, attended on the occasion. His majesty was dressed in a French grey with silver trimming.

Alexander_Roslin_031
1753. Portrait of an unknown Lady by Alexander Roslin. Courtesy of the National Museum, Stockholm

Morning Post and Daily Advertiser, Wednesday, January 18, 1792

The stomacher to be worn today by the Duchess of York is valued at twenty-two thousand pounds – it consists entirely of diamonds; the centre stone alone is supposed to be worth £10,000. The top is festooned, and the centre diamond is set brilliant fashion, as are all the others, pendant in rows from the festoon, in the most elegant manner that can be imagined.

Working Title/Artist: Robe a la Francaise, French or Austrian, ca. 1765, silk Department: Costume Institute Culture/Period/Location: HB/TOA Date Code: Working Date: photographed by mma in 2001, transparency 3a scanned by film & media 7/23/03 (phc)
Working Title/Artist: Robe a la Francaise, French or Austrian, ca. 1765, silk
Department: Costume Institute

And finally, we came across this sad story in World and Fashionable Advertiser, Monday, July 16, 1787.

The following are the particulars of the unfortunate girl who hung herself last Wednesday week in South Moulton Street: She had been to the Haymarket Theatre with her friend and constant companion Miss Edwards; upon the latter intimating a wish to retire, Miss Charlotte Wood requested she would, and said she should follow shortly. Upon her friend retiring, she sent the maid to bed, and bolted the dining room door. Nothing was heard that night; the next morning she was found hanging in her garters from a peg in a closet with a paper pinned to her stomacher, expressing she had committed this rash act from the love she bore to a Mr A____r, who, we understand is a musician in this town.

William Goodwin, haberdasher, at the Sun & Falcon, facing Leather Lane in Holbourn, from the late Mr. Walkwoods LWL
William Goodwin, haberdasher, at the Sun & Falcon, facing Leather Lane in Holbourn, from the late Mr. Walkwoods Courtesy of Lewis Walpole Library

18th Century Female Bruisers

We have previously written about women fighting whether it be ‘Lady Barrymore, the Boxing Baroness’, ‘The Petticoat Duellists’ or the 18th Century boxing match for the hand of a farm lad. We know that pugilism was not totally a male domain and that women fought for money including the likes of Hannah Hyfield and Elizabeth Wilkinson.

Star (London, England), Thursday, January 2, 1800

Today however, we’re going to take a closer look at a superb painting by John Collet which depicts two female bruisers. It is difficult to tell whether these two women were a couple of the regular fighters who appear to have existed. The picture is incredibly detailed and Collet gives us some clues.

Collet, John; The Female Bruisers; Museum of London; http://www.artuk.org/artworks/the-female-bruisers-50752
Collet, John; The Female Bruisers; Museum of London

At the window above the poster are two lovers – or could it be a nod to the building actually being a brothel?

Female Bruisers - lovers at the windowLooking at the woman on the left she appears to be quite well dressed with a pocket watch on a chatelaine hanging down from her waist and a bracelet on her wrist. Her bonnet and cloak on the floor and the three children to her left closely examining her fur muff. At the bottom left hand corner we can see the start of a cock-fight. The man just behind her is having his pock picked – so perhaps indicative of the type of neighbourhood she’s in. The butcher has come out of his shop which is in the background; is he offering her some smelling salts or similar?

Female Bruisers - central scene

If we look to the top of the picture we can just about make the wording of a poster advertising a play The Rival Queens which was being performed at the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden in 1771.

The Rvial Queens

The Rival Queens - Public Advertiser, Saturday, March 30, 1771
Public Advertiser, Saturday, March 30, 1771

On the right of the picture we can see that the other woman appears far less well dressed, as you can tell she isn’t wearing stays, and the man who appears to be trying to help her up from the ground has his hand rather too close to a place it probably shouldn’t have been!

Female Bruisers

We also took a quick look in the newspapers of the day for any other examples and found a couple more to share with you.
Gazetteer and New Daily Advertiser, Friday, December 27, 1765

Yesterday afternoon a severe battle was fought in the ruins of St. Giles, for five guineas a side, between two noted female bruisers, the one from Brick-Lane, Spital-fields, and the other of Buckrage Street; when the championess of Buckrage Street after a contest of 25 minutes came off victorious, with loud huzzas from at least 3000 spectators.

London Evening Post, September 3, 1767

Wednesday a bloody bruising match was fought in the ruins of St. Giles, between two noted bruisers, the one from Newtoner’s Lane, the other from Brown’s Gardens, when the former, after a contest of 20 minutes was crown’d with victory, amidst the plaudits of a vast crowd of spectators.

UPDATE

Since writing this blog we have found an interesting one in the Weekly Journal, Oct 1, 1726 that we had to share with you as it provides us with a snippet of information at the end, almost as an afterthought about their wearing apparel

They fight in close jackets, short petticoats coming just below the knee, Holland drawers, white stockings and pumps.

Weekly Journal or British Gazetteer), Saturday, October 1, 1726

The Sense of Hearing, Philippe Mercier.

Women in Music and Art in the Georgian Era

Needless to say in the 18th century women were regarded as being of lower status than their male counterparts, this was especially noticeable in music. How many well-known female composers of the 18th century have you heard of – not many, if any for a guess! Many women were however expected to study music and to be accomplished at playing an instrument or singing, merely as a form of entertainment for their family and friends. This went hand in hand with being the perfect hostess.

Adolphe, Joseph Anton; Caroline D'Arcy (d.1778), 4th Marchioness of Lothian; National Galleries of Scotland; http://www.artuk.org/artworks/caroline-darcy-d-1778-4th-marchioness-of-lothian-209742
Adolphe, Joseph Anton; Caroline D’Arcy (d.1778), 4th Marchioness of Lothian; National Galleries of Scotland

In this post we thought we would take a look at how art captured women playing a musical instrument, whether these women were actually able to play theses instruments we have no idea, maybe they were simply used as props in the paintings.  One of the most popular instruments for a woman to become accomplished at playing was the harpsichord and so we begin with Anastasia Robinson, mistress of the 3rd Earl of Peterborough followed by A Girl at a Harpsichord 1782 attributed to Mather Brown.

Anastasia Robinson c.1727 via Wikimedia
Anastasia Robinson c.1727 via Wikimedia
A Girl at a Harpsichord by Mather Brown (attributed to), 1782 (c) Glasgow Museums; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation
A Girl at a Harpsichord by Mather Brown (attributed to), 1782
(c) Glasgow Museums; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation

The harp was also immensely popular as we can see here in the painting by Joshua Reynolds, who captured  the Countess of Eglinton playing it, then we have  A Young Lady Playing the Harp  by James Northcote.

The Countess of Eglinton, 1777 by Reynolds, Sir Joshua (1723-92) Private Collection © Agnew's, London English, out of copyright
The Countess of Eglinton, 1777 by Reynolds, Sir Joshua (1723-92)
Private Collection © Agnew’s, London
English, out of copyright
A Young Lady Playing the Harp by James Northcote, exhibited 1814 (c) Tate; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation
A Young Lady Playing the Harp by James Northcote, exhibited 1814
(c) Tate; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation
Lady Frances Seymour Conway (1751–1820), Countess of Lincoln by William Hoare (c) The University of Nottingham; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation
Lady Frances Seymour Conway (1751–1820), Countess of Lincoln by William Hoare
(c) The University of Nottingham; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation
Sarah Curran (1782–1808), Playing the Harp by William Beechey (c) Calderdale Metropolitan Borough Council; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation
Sarah Curran (1782–1808), Playing the Harp by William Beechey
(c) Calderdale Metropolitan Borough Council; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation

The guitar was also a popular instrument for women to play as we can see in these next paintings.

(c) The Ashmolean Museum of Art and Archaeology; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation
A young Woman playing the Guitar with a Songbird on her Hand by Louis-Léopold Boilly
(c) The Ashmolean Museum of Art and Archaeology; Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation
Artist-Painting-a-Portrait-of-a-Musician
Artist Painting a Portrait of a Musician, Marguerite Gerard, Before 1803 courtesy of the State Hermitage Museum

And finally, an all female quartet.

The Sense of Hearing, Philippe Mercier.
The Sense of Hearing, Philippe Mercier. Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

But the post would not be complete without Gillray’s take on an old woman playing the harpsichord now would it!

The Coroner’s Verdict is final

Life expectancy was much lower in the Georgian era mainly due to lack of medicine, poor diet, hygiene and sanitation but, looking back through the newspapers of the day, Health & Safety and personal injury/accident lawyers would have had a high old time with many accidents and deaths resulting from guns accidentally discharging and killing people, fires in the home, deaths as a result of falling off horses and accidental drownings due to due to excessive alcohol intake appears to have been a common cause, as does being run over by a waggon … the list goes on. The eighteenth-century was clearly a dangerous time to live in, as demonstrated by this example

Whitehall Evening Post or London Intelligencer, December 14, 1754 – December 17, 1754

Reading, Dec 14. On Monday last an Inquisition was taken at Beaconsfield in Bucks, on the body of a woman, well known in that part of the county to be a common prostitute, who meeting with one William Clarke, at the Hare and Hounds at Red Hill in the said county, who was driving a cart, she got into the cart and calling at several places to drink gin, they were both intoxicated, and about half a mile from Beaconsfield the woman fell out of the cart when the man was asleep, and about two in the morning she was found dead on the road, several carriages having run over her head and body, but unknown to anyone who they belonged to. The jury brought in their verdict of accidental death.

The remainder of our post looks at some more unusual instances of death which were recorded by the Coroner as ‘accidental’.  There are certainly some verdicts which, if viewed today, could quite easily be regarded as murder or at least manslaughter, but the Coroner’s Verdict was recorded as accidental and his decision was final.

Coroners inquest Courtesy of Lewis Walpole Library Banner

We begin with the Daily Advertiser, Friday, November 7, 1777

On Tuesday a pack of goods, weighing about three hundred and a half, fell from the Bengal India Warehouse, in New Street, Bishopsgate upon Mr. Netherhood, belonging to the above house, by which accident his back, thigh and both legs were broke and he died on the spot. On Wednesday the Coroner’s Inquest sat on the body of Mr. Netherhood, at the Magpye, a public house in the above street, and brought in their verdict – Accidental Death.

Lloyd’s Evening Post, November 21, 1798

Wednesday evening, a Coroner’s Inquest sat at the parish church of St. Laurence, Cateaton Street on the body of Norman, a private in the West Yorkshire Militia, who was unfortunately killed by a fall from the roof of the Manchester Coach the preceding day.

The 'King's Harms', British (English) School (a painting of the 'King’s Arms' inn in Manchester. As the sign on the façade shows, the artist misspelt the name of the establishment, hence the title of the picture). Compton Verney http://www.artuk.org/artworks/the-kings-harms-54665
The ‘King’s Harms’, British (English) School c.1800 (a painting of the ‘King’s Arms’ inn in Manchester. As the sign on the façade shows, the artist misspelt the name of the establishment, hence the title of the picture).
Compton Verney

Whitehall Evening Post, September 1, 1798

On Friday morning last Mr. Benjamin Hale, a soap-boiler in Goswell Street, having been up all night at work, unfortunately lost his light, and, shocking to relate he fell into a pan of lees then boiling, by which he was so much scalded and mortification coming immediately on, that he died in the afternoon of the same day. The coroner’s Inquest was held on the body on Monday.

Bone House - Courtesy of Lewis Walpole Library
Bone House – Courtesy of Lewis Walpole Library

Star, Friday, September 7, 1798

On Tuesday an Inquisition was taken at Stone, Bucks, before Mr. Burnham, his majesty’s Coroner, on view of the body of Edwin Smith, a boy about eight years old, who, as he was climbing upon the spokes of the wheel of a harvest cart, with an intent to get up and ride in the same, in consequence of the horses suddenly moving forward, he fell to the ground, the wheel passed over his boy and killed him on the spot.

The Harvest Wagon by Francis Wheatley, 1774. Nottingham Castle Museum and Art Gallery http://www.artuk.org/artworks/the-harvest-wagon-46836
The Harvest Wagon by Francis Wheatley, 1774.
Nottingham Castle Museum and Art Gallery

St. James’s Chronicle or the British Evening Post, August 4, 1774 – August 6, 1774

On Wednesday night died, of a mortification in this thigh, Mr. Edward Paget, many years Master of the Queen’s Head Alehouse in Marsham Street, Westminster. His death was occasioned by being shot in the back part of his thigh, by standing too near one of the cannons going off on Millbank at the time of the boats passing by for the rowing match on Monday for Doggett’s Coat and Badge, which immediately mortified. The Coroner’s Inquest on Thursday morning brought in their verdict – Accidental Death.

The Race for Doggett's Coat and Badge by Thomas Rowlandson. © The Trustees of the British Museum
The Race for Doggett’s Coat and Badge by Thomas Rowlandson.
© The Trustees of the British Museum

True Briton, Thursday, October 4, 1798

On Thursday se’nnight, Joseph Beight, a well-cleaner of Damerham, undertook to clean a well in Mr. Coomb’s yard at Milford, near Salisbury, and when about to descend, a rope was procured, which Mr.  Coombs wished him to fasten round his body, that me might be pulled up in case of accident, which was rather to be apprehended, as the well was about 30 feet deep, narrow and very foul; he, however, unfortunately rejected this advice and was let down in the bucket, holding the rope in his hand only.

When about half way down, he called to the people above to let him go faster; but when they had turned three rounds more, he called ‘stop!’ and presently after, ‘pull up’, it was immediately discovered that he had let go the rope, and, overcome by the foul air, his body sunk by the side of the bucket, and obstructed its passage as it was drawing up. More assistance was then called, but from the exertion that was used, a link of the chain gave way and the man’s body sunk precipitately to the bottom of the well. Another man was let down, with the rope fastened round him, but he felt himself so strongly affected by the noxious effluvia, that he was obliged to be drawn up when he had reached half way.

Grappling irons were then resorted to and near an hour was spent in their efforts to draw the body up. No hope could be entertained of restoring animation and account of the time that had elapsed and the sad bruises the body had received. Mr. Whitmarsh held an Inquest on the body the next day, Verdict – Accidental Death. The unfortunate man was 54 years of age and has left a widow and eight children to lament the loss of an industrious husband an affectionate father.

Middlesex Journal and Evening Advertiser September 6, 1774 – September 8, 1774

On Saturday a chimney-sweeper went up a baker’s chimney, near the Maze Pond, Southwark, when the chimney was so hot that he had not the power to get down again, but was suffocated in a few minutes. The Coroner’s Inquest brought in their verdict – accidental death.

Taxed from head to toe

We have previously looked at hair powder tax, glove tax and now for the next installment we have, drum roll please –  you’ve guessed it – shoe and boot tax. So far as finding ways to generate much needed revenue the government of the day were completely unstoppable.

John Sawbridge, Alderman of London. © The Trustees of the British Museum
John Sawbridge, Alderman of London.
© The Trustees of the British Museum

We came across an article in the General Advertiser May of 1785 in which Alderman Sawbridge put to William Pitt the Younger another possible tax that had been bought to his attention, the idea of taxing shoes as an alternative to the planned shop tax.

‘a paper had been put into his hands and he had been desired to ask the question; and, with leave of the House he would state the particulars of the proposed tax. It was made on a supposition of there being eight millions of persons in this country, and that four millions of them were either children or poor persons, whose shoes were under the prices meant to be taxed; then, the remaining four millions were calculated as follows: –

Two millions of persons, who wear two pair of shoes per annum of between four and five shillings value, on each paid a stamp duty of two-pence was to be paid which would produce £33,333, 6 shilling and 8 pence.

One million, who wear three pair of between five and six shillings value, on them four-pence each £50,000

One million, who wear three pair, value six shillings and upwards, on them six pence per pair £75,000.

One million pair of boots at 1 shilling per pair £50,000

The whole tax to produce £208,333 6 shilling and 8 pence’.

lwlpr20791
Courtesy of Lewis Walpole Library

A week later it appears that this proposal had initially been suggested to Mr Pitt by a Dr Jones, who made it quite clear at the time to Pitt that he wished to

‘have himself concealed as the projector; at the same time, he avows that he shall be the Minister’s friend to the last’.

Well, that went well, as his name was plastered across the newspapers as the potential instigator of yet another levy on the public who were already struggling with all the other taxes that had been imposed.

For some reason it took a further 18 months before implementation but sure enough on 26th January 1787 the shoe tax was implemented courtesy of Dr Jones (how popular must he have been with the average person, one wonders?) and by this time the tax was expected to generate around £400,000, quite an increase in predicted revenue. It was at the time reported as being ‘neither obnoxious, nor unproductive’.

shoe tax

Quite how much it raised in reality or how long it existed for we’ve no idea, so far we can find no evidence of it being repealed unless over time it was amended and became known as the leather tax. If anyone can shed any light on this we would be most interested in hearing from you.

We finish with an observation made in 1790 which just about sums up the taxation that was taking place at that time:

In everybody’s mouth, in and out of doors, the conversation is tax dogs, tax shoes, tax boots, tax heads, tax everything eatable, drinkable, wearable or moveable; in short, the curse of Ernulphus is nothing in comparison of the calamities which a set of Gentlemen are ready to impose on their country.

 

Sources

General Advertiser (1784), Tuesday, May 31, 1785

Morning Herald and Daily Advertiser, Tuesday, June 7, 1785

World and Fashionable Advertiser, Friday, January 26, 1787

Morning Chronicle, Saturday, December 18, 1790

18th Century Tax on Gloves

18th c gloves MFA Boston
Courtesy of MFA Boston

Britain was struggling financially and so, needless to say, the government looked for ways to raise much needed revenue to balance the books. If it could be taxed, it probably was! In a previous post we looked at the various taxes that existed around this time so for this blog we thought we would take a closer look at the tax placed on gloves.

William Pitt the Younger (1759-1806), after 1806. Via Wikimedia.
William Pitt the Younger (1759-1806), after 1806.
Via Wikimedia.

In 1784 a tax on hats had apparently proved lucrative so in the budget the following year William Pitt the Younger decided to add a tax to gloves, much to the mild amusement of the committee apparently.

lwlpr07169
Billy’s Babel. Courtesy of Lewis Walpole Library

He felt that it would be difficult to lay the burden of the tax on the consumer so Pitt proposed that a mark should be put on the gloves and that the duty should be paid by the retail trader. In his opinion the sale of gloves would be extremely high and that one pair of gloves would be sold to every individual, and therefore 9,000,000 pairs would be purchased each year. As such he proposed a tiered system of taxation:

One penny duty should be added to all gloves up to the value of ten pence

Two pence to gloves costing between ten pence and fifteen pence

Three pence for all gloves costing over fifteen pence

He estimated that this would raise a revenue of some £50,000.  Mr Fox held no strong objection to this tax, but felt that Pitt was over estimating the amount of revenue it would generate as there were ‘children, labourers and other inferior classes of mankind who never consumed this article’, but nevertheless he sincerely hoped that this tax might be as productive as the minister wished.

lwlpr21002
Courtesy of Lewis Walpole Library

26th July 1785, The Stamp Office declared that:

Anyone selling gloves without this tax would be liable for a fine of £20.

Every licensed retailer selling gloves and mittens without the words ‘Dealer in Gloves’ painted or written in the front of his shop shall be forfeits for each pair of gloves or mittens sold £5.

A stamp ticket denoting the particular rate of duty to be paid on every pair of gloves or mittens is to be affixed upon the right hand of each and every person (except those dealing with each other) who shall sell, buy or exchange any gloves or mittens without having such a stamp affixed as foresaid, forfeits for every pair sold, bought or exchanged £20.

In less than one year the newspapers began to report that the glove tax was not proving to be the great success it was expected to be, but that there was no good reason as yet to conclude that it should be repealed, despite many people trying to evade it. So it remained in place.

By the September however it was becoming clear that it was generating nowhere near the revenue expected, in fact it was achieving less than one eighth of anticipated revenue.

Despite its poor income generation, the tax was to remain in place for several years, generating only a fraction of its expected revenue.

A letter in the St James’s Chronicle, 1790, addressed to Mr Pitt read as follows.

My purpose is not to censure your system of taxation, to inveigh against you on the extension of the Excise, or to express my displeasure at the means you have pursued, to prevent our snuffing up the coffins and dried juices of our ancestors … I turn your attention to the Glove tax, which is generally hated. The gloves and stamp are tendered to the customer in such a manner, that he can purchase the one without the other, and in nine instances out of ten the stamp is left unpaid for. If you wish to make this tax productive, you must stamp the gloves, and contrive so to unite the tax with the price, such that the commodity cannot be purchased without paying it. At present none but the conscientious submit to it.

An article in the Public Advertiser, Wednesday, September 14, 1791, on the subject of the glove tax reported on an accident which they directly attributed to it.

Friday afternoon, a melancholy accident happened in St James’s Street; a modern young man, whose pockets were his gloves and his hands in them, coming briskly up the street, trod on the peeling of an apple which tripped up his heels, threw him against a lady following him, knocked her down, by which she was much bruised and he broke both his elbows – Wearing hands in pockets, says our correspondent is to subvert Mr. Pitt’s Glove Tax, but a penalty should be inflicted on any person or persons throwing parings of apples or oranges on the footpath, or his Majesty may lose some of his most valuable subjects.

By this time, it was reported that the tax was generating a maximum of just over £6,000 per annum rather than the anticipated £50,000 and so in March 1794 the government finally conceded that the glove tax was not workable and was not generating anything like the amount anticipated and the act was repealed – common sense finally prevailed.

We will leave The Right Honourable Richard Brinsley Sheridan to have the final words on the subject of the glove tax. Speeches of the Right Honourable RB Sheridan Volume 1

Sources:

St. James’s Chronicle or the British Evening Post, July 30, 1785

Public Advertiser, Saturday, May 20, 1786

General Advertiser, Saturday, September 30, 1786

St. James’s Chronicle or the British Evening Post (London, England), April 1, 1790

Speeches of  The Right Honourable Richard Brinsley Sheridan, Volume 1, 1842

18th Century ‘flower power’ to aid beauty

We have taken a look at cosmetics previously in a series of blogs, but we couldn’t resist sharing some of these beauty recipes with you that we came across in ‘The Toilet of Flora’, although its title is not strictly accurate, as it contains far more than just flora.

A beauty regime was just as important in the 18th century as it is today, so we’ll start at the head and work downwards, although we’re not quite sure if the first two were meant specifically for women or not, although arguably they would work for either sex.

spring
Courtesy of Lewis Walpole Library

Receipt to thicken the hair and make it grow on a bald part

Take the roots of maiden vine, roots of hemp and cores of soft cabbages, of each two handfuls’ dry and burn them; afterward make a lye with the ashes. The head is to be washed with this lye three days successively, the part having been previously well rubbed with honey.

A powder to prevent baldness

Powder your head with powdered parsley seeds at night, once in three or four months, and the hair will never fall off.

Next, for those ladies of ‘a certain age’ who want to turn back time without the aid of cosmetic procedures! We haven’t tried them … yet … but if they work we’ll be sure to let you know.

winter
Courtesy of Lewis Walpole Library

A Pomatum for Wrinkles

Take juice of white lily roots and fine honey, of each two ounces; melted white wax, an ounce; incorporate the whole together, and make a pomatum. It should be applied every night, and not be wiped off till the next morning.

A secret to take away wrinkles

Heat an iron shovel red hot, throw on it some Powder of Myrrh and receive the smoke on your face, covering the head with a napkin to prevent its being dissipated. Repeat this operation three times, then heat the shovel again, and when fiery hot pour on it a mouthful of white wine. Receive the vapours of the wine also on your face, and repeat it three times. Continue this method every night and morning as long as you find occasion.

Good luck with this next one! We won’t be testing it out it for you!

A pomatum to remove redness or pimples in the face

Steep in clear water a pound of boar’s cheek till it becomes tolerably white. Drain it quite dry and put it into a new-glazed earthen pan with two or three Pippins, quartered. An ounce and a half of the four cold seeds bruised and a slice of veal about the size of the palm of one’s hand. Boil the whole together in a vapour-bath for four hours, then with a strong cloth squeeze out your pomatum into an earthen dish placed upon hot ashes: adding to it an ounce of white wax and an ounce of Oil of Sweet Almonds. Stir the pomatum well with a spatula till it becomes cold.

lwlpr09770
Courtesy of Lewis Walpole Library

Why pay for those expensive teeth whitening kits when you could use this method? Sadly, this recipe fails to explain how you actually use the product.

A method to make the teeth beautifully white

Take gum tragacanth, one ounce; pumice stone two drachms; Gum Arabic, half an ounce; and Crystals of Tartar, finely powdered, and adding to it the powder, form the whole into little sticks, which are to be dried slowly in the shade, and afterwards kept for use.

summer
Courtesy of Lewis Walpole Library

We are always being advised to protect our skin from the harmful rays of the sun, clearly those Georgians were ahead of us with this idea and to assist they devised this product.

A preservative from tanning

Infuse in clean water for three days, a pound of Lupines, then take them out and boil them in a copper vessel with five quarts of fresh water. When the Lupines are boiled tender and the water grows rather ‘sopy’, press out the liquor and keep it for use. Whenever you are under a necessity of exposing yourself to the sun wash the face and neck with this preparation.

So, if you’ve exposed yourself to too much sun and wish to get rid of the tan you could try this method –

An excellent receipt to clear a tanned complexion

At night going to rest, bathe the face with the juice of strawberries and let it lie on the part all night and in the morning wash yourself with chervil water. The skin will soon become fair and smooth.

A liniment to promote the growth and regeneration of the nails, given that this recipe contains arsenic we would strongly advise against it.

Take two drachms of Orpiment, a drachm of Manna, the same quantity of Aloes and Frankincense and six drachms of white wax. Make them into a liniment and apply to the part with a thumb stall.

Next we move to the feet for  a cure for sweaty feet, but it does seem like a waste of good wine and finally a corn treatment.

A remedy for moist feet

Take twenty pounds of Lee made of the ashes of the Bay tree, three handfuls of Bay leaves, a handful of Sweet Flag, with the same quantity of Calamus Aromaticus and Dittany of Crete; boil the whole together for some time, then strain off the liquor and add two quarts of wine. Steep your feet in this bath an hour every day, and in a short time they will no longer exhale a disagreeable smell.

lwlpr12448 - corns
Courtesy of Lewis Walpole Library

Why pay for corn removal treatments when you could try this method – onions/garlic – who knew?

A remedy for corns on the feet

Roast a clove of garlic or an onion, on a live coal or in hot ashes; apply it to the corn and fasten it on with a piece of cloth. This softens the corn to such a degree as to loosen and wholly remove it in two or three days. Foment the corn every other night in warm water, after which renew the application.

autumn
Courtesy of Lewis Walpole Library

Source

The Toilet of Flora

 

What can the reader expect from An Infamous Mistress?

An Infamous Mistress: The Life, Loves and Family of the Celebrated Grace Dalrymple Elliott by Joanne Major and Sarah Murden. https://www.amazon.co.uk/Infamous-Mistress-Celebrated-Dalrymple-Elliott/dp/1473844835

Today’s blog is a little different. Our biography An Infamous Mistress: The Life, Loves and Family of the Celebrated Grace Dalrymple Elliott has now been released worldwide, so we thought it might interest our readers if we wrote a little Q&A style piece for anyone who may be thinking about buying our book, to tell you a little more about it.

What made us decide to write about Grace and her family?

Grace simply landed in our lap, we didn’t go out looking for her. The reality was that we were actually researching someone else who turned out to have a familial connection to her and so up she popped. For someone so well known in her day, there still seemed to be huge gaps in what was known of her life and, ever ones to enjoy a challenge, we set out with the intention of merely filling in these gaps and were astounded by how much new information we eventually uncovered.

Being genealogists, we also looked at her wider family and ancestry, particularly her maternal family who had lain undiscovered until now. The only information which was already known was some scant information about her father, and of course her sister Jacintha who married into the Hesketh family, but that was about it.

Her Journal is there in the public domain for all to read, so why write about it again?

The deeper we dug, the more we realized that research into her life has long been muddied by the misinformed biographical information given in the preface to her own Journal of My Life during the French Revolution, which was published posthumously.

Frontspiece of Journal of My Life

Replete with mistakes and half-remembered anecdotes, it was supplied more than two decades after Grace’s death by her granddaughter and a friend. Despite two former biographies on this fascinating woman, the elements which were actually truthful in her Journal were still disputed. For instance, it mentioned a brother, but no brother had ever been identified before (in fact Grace had two brothers which we are able to introduce to her story!).

We have been able to correct this mishmash of information but, more than that, we located previously unconsulted documents, including family ones, which shed new light on the areas of Grace’s life which had formerly lain in the shadows, enabling us to tell her story more completely, and more accurately, than it has ever been told.

Her Journal as it relates to her experiences during the French Revolution is another area we have attempted to illuminate more fully than it has been before. Glaring errors contained within its pages have discredited what ought to have been a superb first-hand account of that period. Grace is placed in confinement in French prisons awaiting the guillotine with notable personalities, when it can be proved that the people so named were not there at that time. Added to the biographical inaccuracies, it has led to people washing their hands of the whole Journal. We set to with a fine tooth comb, to try to establish fact from fiction (a task not helped by Grace habitually misspelling names, either she had a terrible memory for them or the person who transcribed the pages she had written could not read her handwriting).

Slowly but surely we were able to verify much of it, even down to a plausible account of her acting as a courier for the French queen, Marie Antoinette (rumours have ever swirled that Grace courageously worked as a spy). The errors all come in towards the end of the Journal, put there (we strongly suspect) by the over-enthusiastic publisher who wished to have a more dramatic finale to it. The ending we discovered was perhaps a little more mundane, but it is truthful and perhaps, we hope, gives back some credence to Grace’s Journal as an excellent source for those researching the French Revolution, especially as it is an invaluable first-hand account written by a woman.

marie-1783

Why didn’t we simply write about Grace’s life alone?

That would, of course, have been the easy option and for those who regularly read our blog, we rarely take the easy option! We are both genealogists as well as historians and love nothing more than seeking out new pieces of information about the Georgian period. It may be a slightly contentious decision on our part, but the more we discovered, the more fascinated we became by the people we uncovered, especially her siblings and maternal family, and we hoped that the reader would be too for they each had a story to tell, especially one of her brothers!

Were any of Grace’s relatives famous?

 None remain well-known today, although we’d contend that Grace’s eldest brother deserves as much renown as his ‘celebrated’ sister, but some were certainly among the ‘great and the good’ of the day. They made their way around the globe, made the acquaintance of several personalities of the day (George Washington and Thomas Jefferson to name but two) and their lives exhibit a snapshot of a strata of Georgian society and offer an invaluable insight into the social history of the period. The fact that they are all but forgotten now does not make their lives any the less interesting and we relished the chance to rescue them from the obscurity they have long languished in.

We also realized that Grace’s actions and decisions became much clearer when viewed in the context of her wider family. For instance, knowing that two of her aunts made their fortunes and gained their social standing by first being mistresses to wealthy and titled men, that one of these aunts was mistress to an earl and ultimately became his countess, what light does this then shed on Grace herself following their path and becoming a courtesan? What counsel did these two worldly-wise women give to their wayward niece? Grace was well-born too, when most courtesans had been plucked from the stage or the London bawdy houses by their ‘keepers’. Only a few, notably Grace, the scandalous Lady Worsley and Gertrude Mahon (aka the Bird of Paradise) were of good birth. But to know that Grace was from a once landed and noble family, you need to understand and be conversant with her ancestry.

Lastly, we believe that charting the lives of her wider family gives a contrast to Grace’s own life. Although she hated her husband, would she have been better, in that day and age, to have survived a few more years of marriage to arrive at a titled and wealthy widowhood whilst still young enough to contemplate a good marriage to a man of her choosing? Grace could have ended her days like her cousin, mistress of both a country pile and a smart London townhouse and entertaining royalty at her dinner table, rather than in her bed.

What have other readers said?

We’re delighted to say that we have received some excellent reviews for our book. You can read more on our Press page.

Where can I buy An Infamous Mistress?

Our book is available in hardback and as an ebook direct from our publisher, Pen and Sword Books, or from Book Depository, Amazon UK, Amazon US and all good bookshops.

 

The Battle of Culloden; Peel Ross; Highland Council

Jacobites: A New History of the ’45 Rebellion

Today we are honoured to be handing the reins over to a very special guest, the esteemed Dr Jacqueline Riding, art historian.  Amongst her many credits she was the research consultant for Mike Leigh’s award-winning film Mr. Turner (2014) and is now working on his next feature film Peterloo. 

Her book Jacobites: A New History of the ’45 Rebellion has just been released by Bloomsbury Publishing. As a bonus, at the end of her article there is a competition to win a personally signed copy of her beautiful new book. So, without further ado, we’ll leave Jacqueline to tell you more. Fig.1

The recent commemorations for the 270th Anniversary of the Battle of Culloden (16th April 1746), the last battle fought on the British mainland, and the phenomenal success of the TV series Outlander, have certainly brought the 1745 Jacobite Rebellion back into the news, as well as the broader public consciousness. This, in turn, has generated an interest in discovering the history behind Diana Gabaldon’s popular novels (the inspiration for the TV drama).

Fig.2
Thomas Sandby, A Sketch of the field at the Battle of Culloden, 1746, Royal Collection Trust/ © Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II 2016

Over the centuries, many books have been written on the ’45 that could be described, broadly speaking, as either pro-Jacobite or pro-Hanoverian: the former vastly outnumbering the latter. But in recent years there has been a desire among established and emerging scholars alike, to present this extraordinary moment in British history in all its complexity, and to place it, correctly, in an international, as well as national and local context. In this spirit, my book, Jacobites, straddles different disciplines, blending military, social, political, court, cultural and art history, and shifts, chapter by chapter, between an international setting, to the national, regional and local: from the battlefields of Flanders and the Palace of Versailles, to the Wynds of Auld Reekie and the taverns of Derby.

Fig.3
Paul Sandby, Horse Fair on Bruntsfield Links, Edinburgh, 1750 © National Galleries of Scotland

I also based the narrative, as far as possible, on first person or primary accounts – letters, journals, diaries and newspapers – through which the reader discovers what was known, or believed, by individuals or groups, at the moment the action or event is occurring. Vital to this was the year and a half I spent working on the Stuart and Cumberland Papers, the private papers of the exiled Stuarts and William Augustus, Duke of Cumberland (commander-in-chief of the British army at Culloden), both in the Royal Archives at Windsor Castle. The book’s style is often, therefore, closer to reportage and current affairs, than a retrospective history. In this way I aimed to avoid the overwhelming sense of romantic doom that tends to envelop ‘Bonnie Prince Charlie’ and the ’45, while, hopefully, keeping the reader in the moment: after all, in the years 1745-6, nothing was certain.

Fig. 4
Nicolas de Largillière, James VII and II, c.1686 © Royal Museums Greenwich

To whet your appetite, here is a quick introduction to the ’45.

In 1745 Charles Edward Stuart (b.1720) had one key aim: regaining the thrones his grandfather, the Roman Catholic convert James VII of Scotland and II of England and Ireland, had lost in 1688-90 to his protestant nephew and son-in-law William of Orange, who reigned as William III with James’ eldest daughter, Mary II. This ‘Glorious’ Revolution confirmed a Protestant succession in a predominantly protestant Great Britain, which, from 1714, was embodied in the Hanoverian dynasty.

Following George I’s accession, several armed risings in support of the exiled Stuarts occurred, most notably in the years 1715 and 1719, and Jacobite (from the Latin for James ‘Jacobus’) plots continued to plague the new Royal Dynasty. By this stage, on the death of James VII and II in 1701, the chief claimant, the ‘Old Pretender’ (from the French for claimant ‘prétendant’) was his only legitimate son, and father of Charles, James Francis Edward (b.1688). A major French invasion of Britain in support of the Stuarts in early 1744 had been abandoned, mainly due to severe weather, leaving Charles, who had arrived in France to lead the invasion, kicking his heels in Paris.

Fig.5
Allan Ramsay, Prince Charles Edward Stuart, 1746 © National Galleries of Scotland

A year on, having understandably lost patience with his chief supporter and cousin, Louis XV, and with the greater part of the British army fighting in Flanders against the French, leaving Great Britain largely undefended, Charles secretly gathered together arms and a modest war chest, and set sail from Brittany, landing a small party at Eriskay in the Outer Hebrides on 23rd July 1745. His audacious – or reckless – plan was to gain a foothold in the Western Highlands, rally support en route south via Edinburgh, meet up with a French invasion force at London, remove the Hanoverian ‘usurper’ George II (r.1727), and then settle in at St. James’s Palace, while awaiting the arrival of his father, King James VIII and III. And while luck and the element of surprise were on his side, for a time it proved almost as straightforward as that…

To find out more you will of course need to read the book, but in the meantime here is a chance to win your very own copy.

The question Jacqueline has devised is for you is to tell us

Who is your favourite rebel and why?

There is no right or wrong answer and you don’t need to provide your address as we’ll email the lucky winner. The rebel can be from any period of history.

How to enter

Please reply to this post using the ‘Leave a Comment’ at the end of the post.

The Rules

All entries must be received by midnight on Tuesday 17th May 2016.  The competition is open to readers in the UK only (prize courtesy of the publisher).

Good luck!

THE COMPETITION IS NOW CLOSED.

THE WINNER HAS BEEN NOTIFIED AND WE WOULD LIKE TO THANK EVERYONE WHO ENTERED.

If you’re not our lucky winner but would like to buy a copy of Jacqueline’s book, it can be purchased from Bloomsbury PublishingWaterstonesAmazon plus many other leading book sellers.
Featured image: The Battle of Culloden; Peel Ross; Highland Council.

Reports of seismic activity in 18th century England

As our regular readers will, by now be aware, we blog about everything and anything from Georgian times so, with that in mind, we have ventured, somewhat bizarrely, into the realms of seismology (the study of earthquakes) and thought we would take a look at some we came across in the newspapers of the day.  There appear to have been quite a few major earthquakes around the world during that time, the largest taking place in Lisbon in 1755, but we’re going to take a look at a few closer to home in the United Kingdom.

Aertbeevinge tot Jedo (Earthquake at Jedo). © The Trustees of the British Museum
Aertbeevinge tot Jedo (Earthquake at Jedo).
© The Trustees of the British Museum

Oct 10, 1731. At Aynhoe, Northamptonshire.

Oct 25, 1734. At Arundel and Shoreham

Dec 10, 1738. At Hallifax [sic] and Huddersfield, Yorkshire

June 15, 1745. In Somersetshire

Feb 14, 1749. At Leadhills in Scotland when the people were so frightened that they left their houses.

Aug 23, 1750. A smart shock in Nottinghamshire.

Sept 30, 1750. In Northamptonshire, Lincolnshire, Leicester and Derby. At Kelmarsh an old woman was thrown out of her chair and people ran out of the church. At Barton Overy, a child was shaken out of a chair into the fire. According to the General Advertiser:

The letters which give accounts of the late earthquakes felt in Lincolnshire in the latter end of last month seem to confirm the notion advanced of rains falling after very hot weather being the nearest cause of them and that they are immediately occasioned a real ‘convulsion in the bowels of the earth‘.

Feb 8, 1750.

In London and Westminster and many of the adjacent towns and villages. The gentlemen of the long robe in Westminster Hall were so alarmed, that they expected the building to fall, several chimnies and part of a house were thrown down.

March 8, 1750.

Another quake, still more violent than the former, was felt in London and its environs. The people ran from their houses and beds almost naked. A maid servant in Charter-House square was thrown out of bed by the shock and broke her arm. A lady in Piccadilly, a curios collector of old china which she piled in stands, had it thrown down and broken.

So strong an impression did the two shocks of the earthquake that they were felt at London on the 8th of February and 8th of March, 1750, make on the credulous in that populous city, that a life-guardsman having predicted another and more fatal one on the 5th of April, an incredible number of people left their houses and walked in the fields or lay in boats that night. Many people of fashion sat in their coaches in the neighbouring villages till day break. Others went to a greater distance, so that the roads were never more thronged and lodgings were hardly to be procured at Windsor.

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Courtesy of Lewis Walpole Library

April 2, 1750. At Liverpool and the country adjacent, for about 40 miles N. and S. and thirty leagues E. and W.

Gazetteer and London Daily Advertiser, Tuesday, January 13, 1756:

On Wednesday, December 31, 1755 betwixt one and two o’clock in the morning, a small shock of an earthquake was felt at Greenock and several places in that neighbourhood, as well as at Dumbarton, Inchinnan and Glasgow; the truth of this, as it seems confirmed by the concurring reports of numbers of people in all those places, we cannot doubt of.

Extract of a letter from the parish of Kilmacolm (about ten miles west of Glasgow), dated Jan 1.

Yesterday about one o’clock in the morning, being awake in bed, I felt about seven or eight shocks of an earthquake, all succeeding one another. The whole shocks were over in the space of half a minute. The second shock was the greatest and so violent, that it fairly lifted me off the bed, jolted me to the head of it, and in a moment down again to where I lay before. I believe three or four such shocks would have laid this house (tho’ a very strong one) in ruins. The second shock jostled a large chest with such violent along the side of the wall in another room, that it wakened a gentleman who was sleeping there.

Extract from a letter by someone living at Sandwich, Kent, February 18 1756, was reported in the Public Advertiser of February 27, 1756 which stated that:

… a shock of an earthquake was perceived in this town about a quarter before eight this morning it was just heard, that it was slightly felt by two or three persons at Margate. Its direction seem’d to be East or West.

June 8, 1753. At Manchester, and several other places in the North West of England.

April 19, 1754. In several parts of Yorkshire.

July 31, 1755. In Northamptonshire and Lincolnshire. At Frodingham it shook the walls of several houses so much, that most of them fell.

Copper engraving showing the 1755 Lisbon earthquake. Via Wikimedia.
Copper engraving showing the 1755 Lisbon earthquake and ensuing tsunami.
Via Wikimedia.

Nov 1, 1755.

The dreadful earthquake at Lisbon happened, by which above 70,000 persons lost their lives. On the 3rd of this month a violent agitation was perceived on the sea shore in many parts of England. And on the 5th of the month the tide was so high in the river Carron, in Scotland, that it overflowed its banks and broke down a dam-head which had never before given way in the memory of man.

June 24, 1756. At Ashford in Kent and neighbouring villages.

Nov 18, 1756. in Argyleshire and Rothesay.

Jan 11 1757. At Norwich and Yarmouth.

June 9, 1761. In Somersetshire and Dorsetshire

According to a letter dated May 21, 1768 from Newcastle sent to Lloyd’s Evening Post:

On Sunday afternoon last, a little after four o’clock, two slight shocks of an earthquake at about half a minute’s distance of time from each other, were felt in this town, and we have accounts of their being felt, at the same time, in different parts of the country; particular at Kendal, where they had one shock which lasted nearly two seconds and happened during the time of a divine service, which greatly terrified the people in church. At Middleton, near Lancaster it was also felt at the same time.

And finally,  this would have been quite a shocker!!

The Middlesex Journal or Chronicle of Liberty, January 9, 1772

A Welsh lady, not far from Abingdon Buildings, on Monday morning was so much alarmed at what she thought an earthquake, that she jumped out of bed, flew downstairs, ran across the street and knocked at a neighbour’s door, with her shirt on only, which she tacked around her waist in fright.

Header image: Vue de la Ville de Regio dil Messinae et ces alentour detruite par le terrible tremblement de Terre arrivée le Cinq Fevrier de l’annee 1783, Gallica – Bibliothèque nationale de France

Grace Dalrymple Elliott and a Fateful Trip

Our book An Infamous Mistress: The Life, Loves and Family of the Celebrated Grace Dalrymple Elliott is now available in the US and to mark this we are delighted to have been invited back by the wonderful Geri Walton to write another guest blog on her fascinating website.

We thought it might be interesting to tell you more about the events that led to Grace becoming a courtesan, so without further ado we will hand you over to Geri to tell more over on her blog ‘Unique histories from the 18th and 19th centuries‘. Please click on the following link  HERE to find out more.

An Infamous Mistress: The Life, Loves and Family of the Celebrated Grace Dalrymple Elliott by Joanne Major and Sarah Murden. https://www.amazon.co.uk/Infamous-Mistress-Celebrated-Dalrymple-Elliott/dp/1473844835

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Castle Bow, Taunton. Somerset Museums

George Lowman Tuckett

Today, we would like to welcome a return visitor to our blog – Naomi Clifford whose book The Disappearance of Maria Glenn: A True Life Regency Mystery has just been published by Pen and Sword, and we can’t wait to read it.

We will now hand you over to Naomi to introduce you to an intriguing character, George Lowman Tuckett.

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In the middle of a September night in 1817 Maria Glenn, aged 16, vanished from her uncle’s house in Taunton, Somerset. She had been taken by the Bowditches, a local yeoman farming family who wanted to marry her off to the second son. George Lowman Tuckett, Maria’s uncle, immediately suspected that the Bowditches knew that she was the probable future heiress of her grandfather’s valuable sugar plantations in St Vincent.

Maria had spent the summer at their farm just outside Taunton where she and two of her young cousins had been sent to recover from whooping cough. There was ample opportunity for the family to find out what she was worth. Of course, in 1817, once a girl was married, all her possessions, now and in the future, would belong to her husband.

When I was writing the book, I had to build a picture of Tuckett from the bare bones of his biography and from glimpses of him in the lives of other people. Apart from two publications about his niece’s case and one letter in the county archives at Dorchester, he left a surprisingly small footprint. There are no surviving images of him, which is surprising given that he went on to be, if only for a short time, a Lord Chief Justice of Jamaica (but we’ll come to that later).

George Lowman Tuckett was born in 1771 at Bridgwater in Somerset, the second of his father William’s sons by his first wife Martha Lowman. William was appointed Stamp Act distributor on St Kitts in the West Indies but by 1770 he was back in England, living in Bridgwater, where he was at various times a solicitor, Recorder of the Corporation, Stamp Duty Distributor for Somerset and mayor of Bridgwater.

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Copyright Ken Grainger

In 1789, after boarding at Exeter School George went up to St John’s College, Cambridge. He followed his father into the law, taking his pupillage with the brilliant but notoriously grumpy Vicary Gibbs, who specialised in the laws of evidence.

Vicary Gibbs
Vicary Gibbs

It is not known how Tuckett made the acquaintance of the poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge, who lived at Ottery St Mary in Devon, but the two young men were close enough for Tuckett to take action when Coleridge, impoverished and suffering from depression, disappeared from Cambridge University in late 1793. While Coleridge’s family anxiously tried to track him down, it was Tuckett who guessed that he would have told his old Christ’s Hospital school friends where he was. He persuaded them to break their confidence, after which Coleridge, who had joined the Royal Dragoons under the name Silas Tomkyn Comberbache, wrote Tuckett an angry letter criticising his love for truth-telling. It is not known whether they communicated again. Truth-telling was important to Tuckett.

coleridge
Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Tuckett was admitted to the Middle Temple in London in 1796, after which he completed two years’ practice in England. Two years after that, he sailed to Grenada in the West Indies. On 11 July 1800, aged 30, he married his 17-year-old first cousin, Martha Lowman, daughter of his mother’s brother George Lowman, on St Vincent. The following year he was appointed Solicitor-General of Grenada but his career was seriously affected when Martha became ill and they were forced to come to England. With the exception of a couple of years in Jamaica, where Tuckett practised at the bar, they stayed in England for the next two decades, settling initially in Taunton.

While they were living in Taunton, 11-year-old Maria Glenn, Tuckett’s wife’s sister’s daughter (and his own his second cousin – they intermarried quite a lot) joined them. By now George and Martha had five children (they went on to have another), a remarkable achievement given that Martha had an unknown but debilitating illness. Tuckett and Martha adored Maria – she was everything a genteel Regency girl was meant to be. Shy, bashful, obedient and, above all, innocent about men.

St Mary, Taunton
St Mary Magdalen, Taunton

After Maria’s disappearance, in order to build evidence against the family he believed abducted her, Tuckett became a detective. There was no police force to do this work, of course, and although he could have hired an investigator, the work required sensitivity and attention to detail. Also, Tuckett has time on his hands: from what I can tell, his career as a jobbing barrister on the Western circuit was not very taxing.

He travelled extensively around Dorset and to London to interview witnesses and sometimes to conduct an impromptu identity parade. It was his practice to ask someone to describe the person they had seen at a particular time. Then he would present Maria and ask if this was who they meant. When they failed to recognise her, he concluded that Maria had been deliberately impersonated by her enemies. Of course, it’s not a technique that would be acceptable in a court of law now. What happened when the case came to court, and subsequently when the Bowditches sought revenge, is detailed in my book.

He was thorough and determined. He sometimes presented as severe and cold-hearted but underneath he was loving, generous and loyal, with a fundamental commitment to Maria and an acute sense that it was his Christian duty to tell the truth.

Many years later, when Tuckett had managed to resume his West Indian career, he showed the same compassion and adherence to the truth. By 1827, he was appointed Judge of the Vice-Admiralty Court of Jamaica and then in October 1831, with the death of William Anglin Scarlett, the acting Lord Chief Justice of Jamaica. Earl Belmore, the Governor of Jamaica, told Tuckett that it was his intention to appoint him to the post, but after the Christmas rebellion of 1831 (the Baptist War) he was ejected from office and forced to return to London. Although his actions had been approved by the Jamaican Privy Council, Sir Joshua Rowe was given the post of Lord Chief Justice. Tuckett’s brief period of service has all been but forgotten. The Jamaican historical archives have no portrait of him and no information about his role.

It was the end of Tuckett’s legal career and afterwards, he lived in retirement, supporting his four surviving children, none of whom married. Martha died in 1837. On 4 November 1851, he died from heart disease, aged 80, at his home in Ilfracombe, Devon.

If you want to read more, The Disappearance of Maria Glenn: A True Life Regency Mystery is available now from Pen and Sword Books and all good bookshops.

You can also visit Naomi’s excellent website by clicking here.

 

Top Tips for Cleaning Clothes – Georgian style

So, just how did those Georgians cope with  cleaning delicate fabrics? They couldn’t simply nip along to a dry cleaners to have them chemically cleaned. Well, we came across this wonderful little book from 1753, packed with all types of useful information including top tips for cleaning clothes, ‘Madam Johnson’s Present: Or, Every Young Woman’s Companion in Useful and Universal Knowledge’ so we thought we would share some of them with you. We have no idea as to how effective some of these methods are so ‘approach with caution’. Some of them sound very dubious, so please do be careful if you try them one at home as we acceptable no responsibility!

unknown artist; Portrait of a Lady in a Floral Dress Washing Clothes; National Museums Northern Ireland; http://www.artuk.org/artworks/portrait-of-a-lady-in-a-floral-dress-washing-clothes-123098
unknown artist; Portrait of a Lady in a Floral Dress Washing Clothes; National Museums Northern Ireland

To take iron mould and all sorts of spots and stains out of linen

These are removed by holding the linen, where they are, round a silver or stone mug containing boiling water, and by rubbing them with a slice of lemon. In the middle of summer, when the sun is very hot, the soaping them on both side will take them out; and if the linen be soaped all over it will be very white. Rubbing the stained places with juice of sorrel, or dipping them in the hot juice will take out the spots. The same may be done by rubbing them with salt and vinegar and squeezing; or by dipping them a few times in sharp vinegar boiling in an earthern, tin or silver pipkin over the fire; after which they should be well rubbed with soap, dried before the sun or fire and washed. Boiling milk will take the stains of fruit out of linen.

Morland, Henry Robert; Domestic Employment: Ironing; Lady Lever Art Gallery; http://www.artuk.org/artworks/domestic-employment-ironing-102602
Morland, Henry Robert; Domestic Employment: Ironing; Lady Lever Art Gallery

To take paint out of linen

Stains of that kind are extracted by rubbing them over with butter, hanging them in the sun, or before some heat to dry and then washing them.

To wash thread and cotton stockings

Let them have two lathers and a boil, having blued the water well. Wash them out of the boil, but don’t rinse them. Turn the wrong sides outwards and fold them very smooth and even, laying them one upon another and a board over them, with a weight of press them smooth. Let them lie thus about a quarter of an hour, after which hang them up to dry and when thoroughly so, roll them up tight without ironing by which means they will look as new.

2010EE8115_jpg_ds- pink stocking V and A

To clean gold and silver lace

This is performed by taking some Talk, finely pounded and moistened with the spirit of wine, and then rubbing it with a brush over the lace every way. The same will do also for gold and silver stuffs highly raised, but lace turns black, if rubbed with Talk by itself.

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Courtesy of Cooper Hewitt, Smithsonian Design Museum

How to make starch for small linen

Having wetted a quarter of a pound of starch, mixed with a little Powder Blue, so as it will bruise, add it to half a pint of water, and then pour them into a quart of water boiling on the fire. Stir well, and let the starch boil at least quarter of an hour, for it cannot be boiled too well, neither will the linen iron or look well, unless the starch be thoroughly boiled. After the starch is strained, dip the linen into it and then squeeze it out. Dip first those things you would have stiffest, but do not rub them in the starch; and as you want the starch stiff or thin, add or diminish. Some put Gum Arabic, Allum and Candle into the starch as it boils, but these are prejudicial; and if anything be added let it be Isinglass, about an ounce to  quarter of a pound of starch, for that will help to stiffen and make them clear, but not to be used for laces. A kettle of Bell-Mettle is the properest vessel to boil starch in.

Mercier, Philippe; Lady Mary Fairfax; Fairfax House; http://www.artuk.org/artworks/lady-mary-fairfax-9884
Mercier, Philippe; Lady Mary Fairfax; Fairfax House

To take dirt from any silk

This is done by wetting it with a cloth dipped in clear water, and then wiping it, till the stain is out; then rubbing it first with a wet cloth, and next with a dry one and afterwards rolling it up dry in another clean cloth; but no air must come to it, for it would change the colour or crumple it. If the pieces of dirt be thick, they should be let dry and then shaken off; after which the silk should be rubbed with crumbs of bread and then with a clean cloth. If it be stained with coffee, rubbing with milk and then with fair water and a cloth will clean it.

How to take out spots of oil or any grease spots in silk

Let the spot be covered with French chalk, scraped and then rubbed well with a clean cloth. Pure spirit of lemon, without the essence, will extract any stain; but spirit of Sal Ammoniac is though preferable; for although the silk be all over stained with oil, it will take it out, at least on the second application if the silk be dry.

Silk, linen, silk thread; hand-woven damask, hand-sewn. c1743. Courtesy of V&A Musuem
Silk, linen, silk thread; hand-woven damask, hand-sewn. c1743. Courtesy of V&A Museum

To take spots out of thin silk

Dip a piece of black cloth in a pint of white wine vinegar, pretty well heated and rub it over the stain; after which scrape Fuller’s Earth on the stain and putting dry woollen cloths above and below, place and iron, moderately hot on the upper part and the spot will vanish.

The Camp Laundry, 1782, British Museum
The Camp Laundry, 1782, British Museum

To clean satins and Damasks

A suit of these may be cleaned by rubbing them with the crumb of a three-penny loaf, two days old, mixed with a quarter of an ounce of Powder-Blue.

And, to finish, we couldn’t resist a Thomas Rowlandson caricature, courtesy of the Lewis Walpole Library.

lwlpr11413

Source:

Madam Johnson’s Present: Or, Every Young Woman’s Companion in Useful and Universal Knowledge

The French Lesson: Henrietta Lightfoot’s exploits in Revolutionary France

“I have often wished to enquire, my dear Mrs Lightfoot, how it was you came to make the acquaintance of Grace Dalrymple Elliot.”

Hallie RubenholdWe’ve been lucky enough to receive a preview copy of the respected author and historian Hallie Rubenhold’s new novel, The French Lesson which is launched in the UK on 21st April 2016. It’s a book we’ve been waiting with baited breath to read as it has our leading lady Grace Dalrymple Elliott as one of the main characters.

As Hallie’s work is fictional she had free rein with Grace and we were keen to see how Hallie’s Grace measured up to the Grace we had come to know and love during our many years of research into her life and family. We had high hopes as Hallie’s expertise in the eighteenth-century is outstanding (she also wrote the biography of Grace’s boon companion Lady Worsley which was turned into a BBC drama last year, The Scandalous Lady W, as well as works on the notorious Harris’s List) and we’re glad to say we were not let down. By the end of the first chapter we knew Hallie had nailed Grace.

This is the second book in a trilogy. In the first, Mistress of My Fate, young Henrietta (Hetty) Lightfoot fled from her home and was faced with the ugly realities of the Georgian world but found love in the arms of the handsome Lord Allenham. In The French Lesson, our heroine’s adventures begin in Brussels, with Allenham missing, forcing Henrietta to venture to Paris in search of him where Grace takes Miss Lightfoot under her wing, and further educates her in the ways a woman can survive on her own wits and using her own body.

You must not feel shame for your deeds, but enjoy the liberties that have been bestowed upon you.”

This advice is not welcome to Henrietta but Grace, as she would have been in real life, is worldly wise; she knows that to live in any kind of style as an unmarried woman, Henrietta must rely on the patronage of wealthy men. This was Grace’s course in life, and Henrietta would do well to take Grace’s counsel, for Grace had chosen wisely with her protectors.

Thomas_Gainsborough_-_Portrait_of_Grace_Dalrymple_Elliott_-_Frick_Collection

Grace’s old lover, Louis Philippe Joseph, Duc d’Orléans is portrayed with a wickedly vivid perspective, and his lover (and Grace’s rival) Madame de Buffon is brought wonderfully to life, as is Paris and its environs.

We don’t want to give away too much of the plot and spoil the story, which will keep you guessing until the end; suffice to say that the tale romps, twists and turns marvellously while Henrietta does her best to survive and work out just who she can and can’t trust as the shadow of the guillotine grows ever darker.

The French Lesson

We loved The French Lesson. Hallie fully transported us into the streets of revolutionary Paris and the intrigues of Henrietta’s life. Her portrayal of Grace Dalrymple Elliott is real, gritty and uncompromising but a version we could clearly recognise and believe in.

The French Lesson is available from Amazon and other leading bookshops.

 

‘Compelling and operatic…Reads like a modern thriller’ SIMON SEBAG MONTEFIORE, author of The Romanovs

‘A dark and irresistible historical novel’ LUCY WORSLEY

‘Fast, funny, excoriating, scary, sexy… and such a *very* satisfying ending. The power is in the voice: I’ve rarely read such a powerful voice in fiction’ MANDA SCOTT

Visit Hallie’s website by clicking here for more information.