Princess Louise Marries a Commoner

c859b2290db4f763cf0476aea9fa2912.jpg In March 1871, Princess Louise Carolina Alberta, fourth daughter and sixth child of Queen Victoria married John Douglas Sutherland Campbell, Marquis of Lorne and heir to the dukedom of Argyll , which created quite a stir. In 1870, Lorne was marked by Queen Victoria as a possible groom for Louise, but at first, the princess was undecided upon Lorne.

Louise knew the difficulty her her eldest sister encountered in the royal courts of Europe, where Vicky’s liberal-minded precepts were met with repression. Louise did not believe she could not live such a life of restriction, especially with her growing interest in philanthropy and the advancement of women. She would be labeled as a troublemaker, just as Vicky was. Therefore, she knew she must seek a British husband, which meant a non-royal and a commoner. Her engagement to the Marquis of Lorne in the autumn of 1870 was supported not only by her mother but also by her mother’s Prime Minister, Benjamin Disraeli. Disraeli knew Lorne, a commoner despite his descent from the Kings of Scotland, for a gentle, good-tempered man of ‘bright cultivated intelligence’ who was just right for the artistic Louise. The match also pleased the British public which had feared yet another of the ‘German marriages’ which, in their view, had already occurred too often in the Royal Family. 

“In March 1870, the Marquess of Lorne was told an engagement was not going to take place; Louise had changed her mind. As the Queen wrote to Lord Granville on 13 March, ‘while the Princess thinks Lord Lorne very clever and agreeable, she does not think she could have that feeling for him which would enable her to wish for any nearer acquaintance with a view to a further result. He is too young for her…’

51bSI++o8YL._SX325_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg “The end of her putative engagement to Lorne does not seem to have caused Louise much heartache. Soon afterwards, she was at a breakfast party hosted by the Gladstone [the queen’s longtime bête noire, Prime Minister William Gladstone] family and Lady Lucy Cavendish noted in her diary, ‘Sat by Princess Louise, who looked very pretty and was charming and well-mannered, as usual.’ Rumours now suggested Lord Cowper as the princess’s intended fiancé. At the start of October, however, all mention of Lord Cowper was at an end, and the newspapers were about to get the story they’d been longing for.” (Hawksley, Lucinda. Queen Victoria’s Mysterious Daughter: A Biography of Princess Louise. ©2013, St Martin’s Press, 119) The princess and Lorne’s chance meeting at the Gladstones’ breakfast party at Carlton House Terrace led them to a better understanding. At the time of their engagement, Lorne’s income was a paltry £4,000, but he was eventually to be 9th Duke of Argyll. Although “romantic love” was purported, it was more likely that the pair thought they could like in harmony. 

article-2508123-006E6CA01000044C-645_306x521.jpgObjections to the marriage were expected from the European states, which did not condone marriages between royalty and commoners; however, the Prince of Wales’s objection was not. As the eldest son and Victoria’s assumed heir, Albert Edward (Bertie) not only objected to his sister marrying a commoner, but he also objected to Lorne for the Campbell family were prominent Liberals. Moreover, Lorne sat in the House of Commons as a supporter of Gladstone. According to Jerrold M. Packard in Victoria’s Daughters (©1998, St. Martin’s, 146), “It is likely, however, that Bertie’s most fundamental objection to his sister’s marriage purely concerned Lorne’s rank, a complaint founded on what were at the time rational grounds. In fact, all sorts of problems would inevitably have to be sorted out: Lorne’s precedence, the unedifying specter of Louise and her spouse being distantly separated at official functions, the Argylls’ deep involvement with banking and commerce (which might generate conflicts of interest, not to mention smacking of actually working for a living), even whether Louise herself might have to give up her own royal status.” 

Princess_Louise_and_Lorne_engagement.jpg The royal family did not expect objections from the public sector. By the time of Louise’s marriage, Victoria’s popularity had dipped considerably for she was sore to make public appearances after Prince Albert’s death. However, in order to force Parliament’s agreement to both Louise’s dowry of £30,000 (+ £6,000 a year for life) and £15,000 for life for Prince Arthur (who had come of age at the same time as the wedding), Victoria agreed to open Parliament (a duty she had forgone since Albert’s death). Louise stood on the steps during this duty. 

Princess Louise and Lorne were married in St. George’s Chapel in Windsor Castle in Berkshire. 

Resources and Other Readings: 

“The Mystery of Princess Louise: Queen Victoria’s Rebellious Daughter by Lucinda Hawksley – Review,” The Guardian 

“Queen Victoria’s ravishing daughter, a secret love and a sex scandal the Royal Family’s STILL trying to cover up,” The Daily Mail 

“Princess Louise,” Britannia 

“Princess Louise, Duchess of Argyll,” Wikipedia 

Posted in British history, family, marriage, Scotland, titles of aristocracy, Victorian era | Tagged , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

A Gest of Robyn Hode, a Robin Hood Folk Ballad

In 1560, William Copeland printed the fragments of the various Robin Hood folk dramas. The “plays” were likely performed by mummers and strolling players for a century or more before Copeland printed them.

A Gest of Robyn Hode

Frontispiece to Wynkyn de Worde's 15th c. or early 16th c. edition of the Gest.A Gest of Roby Hode has been known by a variety of of titles. It is one of the earliest Robin Hood stories, likely written in the late 1400s. It is about 14,000 words in length. 

A “gest,” according to Dictionary.com, means a tale of adventures; especially :  a romance in verse; an adventure, exploit, or knightly gests.

Wikipedia provides us a brief overview of the tale. “A Gest of Robyn Hode” is Child Ballad 117; it is also called A Lyttell Geste of Robyn Hode in one of the two oldest books that contain it. It is one of the oldest surviving tales of Robin Hood [and] shows every sign of having been put together from several already-existing tales. It is a lengthy tale, consisting of eight fyttes, or sections. It is a ballad written in Middle English.”  

250px-Here_begynneth_a_gest_of_Robyn_Hode.png Bold Outlaw breaks down the “fyttes” as follows: “The Gest is divided into eight sections, known as Fyttes. Here’s a breakdown of the main action….

“Fytte 1 — Robin wants to have a guest before they eat. Little John finds a poor knight in threadbare clothing. The knight’s son killed someone in a joust and the knight had to borrow 400 pounds from St. Mary’s Abbey, York to pay the bail. Now, the loan is due, and the knight doesn’t have the money and will lose his lands. Finding him to be honest, Robin loans him the money and gives him fine clothing. He sends Little John along with the knight.

“Fytte 2 — The abbot of St. Mary’s and others are eager to seize the knight’s land. The knight shows up and pretends to be broke. They show no mercy. And therefore, when the knight pays up he doesn’t give them a tip. The knight returns home, collects the money, and makes a gift of fine bows and arrows, to repay Robin. On his way to Barnsdale (Robin’s base), he is delayed to help a yeoman in a wrestling match.

“Fytte 3 — Meanwhile, Little John goes to Nottingham and enters an archery contest. The sheriff is impressed and drafts Little John into his service. After spending some months with the sheriff, Little John causes trouble, fights and recruits the sheriff’s cook and they make off with the sheriff’s treasure. Later, they lure the sheriff into meeting Robin Hood. In exchange for his freedom, the sheriff promises not to harm Robin.

“Fytte 4 — Waiting for the knight to return his loan, Robin and his men intercept the high cellarer of St. Mary’s abbey. The monk is rude and dishonest, and so Robin robs him of 800 pounds, claiming the virgin Mary has sent this payment. When the knight does show up, Robin gives him another 400 pounds.

“Fytte 5 — The Sheriff of Nottingham holds an archery contest for a gold and silver arrow. Robin wins the contest. But his men are ambushed, Little John is wounded, and they take refuge at the castle of the knight (now called Sir Richard at the Lee).

“Fytte 6 — The sheriff goes to the king for help, and returns to capture Sir Richard. Sir Richard’s wife goes to Robin for help. Robin rescues the knight, kills the sheriff and flees to the forest.

“Fytte 7 — Planning to deal with Robin personally, the king goes to the forest disguised as an abbot. He makes friends with Robin. They have an archery contest which Robin loses. The knight discovers the king’s true identity. Robin enters the king’s service.

“Fytte 8 — The king and his men disguise themselves as outlaws and go to Nottingham. Robin serves the king for 15 months. Broke and bored, he returns to Barnsdale, reforms the band, and they stay as outlaws for 22 years. Robin is bled by his cruel cousin, the Prioress of Kirklees, and dies.”

As one can easily assume, latter ballads are based on the Gest

 

Bold Outlaw goes on to say, “Historians, such as John Bellamy, continue to focus on the Gest in their attempts to find an original Robin Hood. The description of Robin’s Yorkshire haunts is unusually specific. (Sherwood Forest is never mentioned in the Gest.) There is much debate about when the story is set. 

This woodcut has been used to illustrate both the Gest and the yeoman of Chaucer's Canterbury Tales“And there’s much debate over which Edward the king is meant to be. In the early 19th century, Joseph Hunter found the king’s journey in the Gest is similar to that of Edward II’s. There was even a Robyn Hood serving as a porter in this king’s court. However, other details point to the reign of Edward III. Professor Stephen Knight stated in his 1994 study of Robin Hood that the king may have been Edward IV, who was likely the king at the time of composition.

“But Professor Thomas Ohlgren has recently shown that the Gest may be have performed for the cloth guilds that were founded in the reign of Edward III. Ohlgren shows there are a lots of references which make Robin sound like a cloth merchant of Edward III’s day. Even the food Robin serves his guests is taken from the guild menus where this story may have originally been read. At a 2003 conference, Ohlgren revised his opinion and felt that the king in the Gest may have been a combination of Edwards III and IV, as if asking the current king to act like his famous predecessor.”

 

 

“Some of the incidents in Fouke fitz Waryn and A Gest of Robyn Hode are, for example, too close to be accounted for by ‘common tradition’ or coincidence — the game of truth and consequences by which those who lie are robbed, while those who tell the truth keep their money; the trick of enticing the enemy into a forest trap by promising him a long-horned stag; the captured king or sheriff swearing an oath not to harm the outlaw and then breaking it; and the wounded sidekick begging the hero to kill him by cutting off his head.”
A Book of Medieval Outlaws: Ten Tales in Modern English, edited by Thomas H. Ohlgren, p. 111.

Other Resources: 

The Child Ballads: 117

The Earliest Editions of the Gest

“Gest of Robyn Hode,” University of Rochester Middle English Text Series (Introduction)

“Gest of Robyn Hode,” University of Rochester Middle English Text Series (Actual Text of the Tale)

“Gest of Robyn Hode” in Traditional English You Tube 

The Project Gutenberg eBooks of Ballads of Robin Hood and other Outlaws by Frank Sidgwick

 

Posted in ballads, British history, Canterbury tales, drama, literature, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | 1 Comment

Crafting a Thatched Roof

We all admire the idea of a cottage with a thatched roof, but what are the practicalities? 

History: Thatching roofs can be traced to the Bronze Age. In Dorset, one can observe the remains of a round hut that displays signs of thatching at Shearplace Hall. Traditionally, thatched roofs came about because the wattle, daub walls, and cruck beams used in the construction of huts, etc., could not support the weight of anything but the lightest of materials. 

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Daily Mail ~ Expensive: Mr Tasker spent £13,000 replacing his thatched roof in the traditional style

 In an article entitled “The Art of Thatching,” we learn, “Thatched buildings appear in almost every county in the United Kingdom although the West Country – Cornwall, Devon and Dorset have probably the highest number of buildings which still retain a thatched roof. Materials used in thatch buildings were limited to whatever was available locally. Materials such as broom, sedge, sallow, flax, grass, and straw are all used. The most common is wheat straw in the south of England, and reeds in East Anglia. Norfolk reed is especially prized by thatchers, although in northern England and Scotland heather was frequently used. With the large reed beds in East Anglia and it’s longer life, reed has become the more common material for thatch, though long-straw thatching is still done. Rye, Straw or sedge grass is used for capping the ridges of all thatched buildings as it is more flexible than reed. Although thatch was primarily used by the poor, occasionally great houses used this most common of materials. In 1300 the great Norman castle at Pevensey in Sussex bought up 6 acres of rushes to roof the hall and chambers. Much later, in the late 18th century thatched cottages became an extremely popular theme with painters, who tried to portray a romantic view of Britain.”

Thatched roof churches could also be found. According to Britain Express, “In one humorous episode the parish church at Reyden, near Southwold, was roofed in 1880 with thatch on the side of the church hidden from the road, and with tiles on the side facing the road. Presumably the tiles looked more elegant than the more commonplace thatch.” 

  

thatch-roofing-process-600x250

via Commonwealth Roofing

“So how does one thatch a cottage? First the thatch is tied in bundles, then laid in an underlayer on the roof beams and pegged in place with rods made of hazel or withy.
Then an upper layer is laid over the first, and a final reinforcing layer added along the ridgeline. It is at the ridgeline that the individual thatcher leaves his personal “signature”, a decorative feature of some kind that marks the job as his alone.” (Britain Express) 

A 2010 article in The Guardian tells of a man who still thatches roofs. This is his explanation. “We are on site at what’s called a re-thatch, which does what it says on the tin and still makes up the majority of [Glen] Holloway’s work. Thatched roofs last around 30 years. The minute you lay one, it slowly starts to rot. Looking pretty isn’t cheap. ‘I usually tell a customer they should be putting away £1,500 to £2,000 a year to cover it.’

“We climb a ladder to roof level. The old thatch has been stripped down to its underwear – a dry and musty, thin petticoat of thatch. Sometimes Holloway strips the thatch right off and lays new timbers. Then the real work begins. He picks up a spar – a branch of split hazel wood that has been tapered to a point at each end, and twists it in the middle into a V shape. Spars are used to staple the thatch into place.

55843475

http://www.gettyimages.com Cottage with a thatched roof, Cregnesh, Isle of Man, British Isles :

 “The thatch itself is made from bundles of water reed, sent from Hungary. Fuel prices and carbon footprinting mean Holloway is encouraging local suppliers to grow wheatgrass, but it’s a lengthy process and most of the reed comes from abroad.

“Once he’s clipped the binding off a bundle he sits the reeds on the roof, with their flower ends facing up and their “butt” end facing the ground, and holds this temporarily in place with iron thatching pins, rather like a hairdresser pulls hair out of the way and clips it into place while working.

“Now it’s time for a thatcher’s primary tool, the legget. It looks like a spade. It has a flat aluminium head but turn it over and you’ll see a honeycomb effect punched out of the surface. The grooves catch the butt ends of the reeds as Holloway thumps the legget up against them. He does this in order to marshal the sea of butt ends (known as the coatwork) into as smooth a surface of thatch as possible. 

“This is called dressing and a well-dressed thatched coat is the pride of the trade. ‘I was always told it should look like poured-on custard,’ says Holloway, now a master thatcher, no less. After spending a day staring at the coatwork he says he develops “reed blindness”. I can see what he means; after an hour gazing close-up, a sea of thatch dances in front of my eyes.

12997675-man-working-at-covering-the-thatch-roof-of-traditional-house-in-denmark-a-sunny-summer-day-Stock-Photo.jpg“Another particular of a thatcher’s tool box is the shearing hook which looks like a left-handed scythe, except it’s right-handed and is used to shear the ears off the reeds. When Holloway has finally, and painstakingly, worked his way up to the ridge of the roof he has to pin the thatch down tightly with some spars. He creates a double layer of thatching at the ridge and covers this with thatching wire (like chicken wire but with a smaller mesh) to protect it from lumbering crows.

“Unlike the thatched layer underneath, the flowers of the top layer face downwards and are trimmed with the shearing hook to create a pretty, wavy design. Or to put it in thatching lingo, Holloway creates a ‘block pattern ridge’ using ‘cross pattern spar work.'”

Resources: 

“The Art of Thatching,” FatBadgers 

“How to Thatch a Roof,” The Guardian 14 May 2010

“The Inside Story of a Thatched Roof,” The Guardian 20 March 2017

“Master of a Traditional Craft,” The Guardian 26 October 2015 

“Thatching,” Britain Express 

“A Working Life: The Master Thatcher,” The Guardian 27 May 2011

Posted in architecture, British history, buildings and structures, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 5 Comments

The Cancelled Chapters of Jane Austen’s “Persuasion,” a Guest Post from Alexa Adams

The Cancelled Chapters of Persuasion

brock1 I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others. Too good, too excellent creature! You do us justice, indeed. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating, in

F. W.

Captain Frederick Wentworth of Persuasion is not my favorite Austen hero. Though rather more dashing than the others, his behavior towards Anne Elliot is peevish and hurtful. Mr. Darcy, following Elizabeth’s rejection, struggles to impress her. Mr. Knightley, even when he thinks Emma’s heart belongs to another, remains her strongest advocate. Captain Wentworth, on the other hand, distinguishes himself by flirting outrageously where his heart is unengaged, claims Anne to be altered beyond recognition (and says so in the hearing of those who are sure to repeat his hurtful words), abrock3nd when he thinks he has lost Anne forever, he stalks off in a fit of jealousy. For all this I blame him, but then comes that letter …

Captain Wentworth might be unworthy of Anne, but his declaration of love is the most intense and satisfying in all of Austen. I have a hard time maintaining my irritation with him when he expresses himself so passionately, without any reserve, and fully reveals the true extent of his internal struggles. His transgressions are the result of his deep hurt. A better man might have proceeded differently, but there is no doubt of the ferocity of his love. Though I have read this novel countless times, I still feel the intense anticipation and grow week in the knees every time I read chapter twenty: one of the greatest scenes Austen ever wrote! And I ask myself: what if that letter had never been written?

It almost wasn’t. One of the greatest insights we have into Austen’s writing process are the so-called “Cancelled Chapters” of Persuasion.

One of the most common criticisms I receive on my books is that they end too quickly. I know a lot of authors hear this. It is wonderful to know that my readers want more, and with each new book I try harder and harder to deliberately slow down, but it is a constant struggle. In editing, it is inevitably the last chapter or two that I change the most. I completely rewrote the ending to my second book, Second Glances, only a month before publishing. I was nervous about the change, but knowing what Austen did to Persuasion gave me courage to proceed.

Austen not only changed the sequence of events leading to her story’s conclusion, she also added an entire additional chapter, considerably slowing down the rush towards happily ever after. In the cancelled chapters, Anne meets Admiral Croft on her return from Mrs. Smith’s house, having just learned of Mr. Elliot’s perfidy. The scene does not paint the Admiral in the best light, as he bullies Anne into intruding upon his wife, abandons her to the awkward company of Captain Wentworth, and, heeding the rumors of her forthcoming engagement to Mr. Elliot, forces the love sick man to ask her if the Crofts should give up their lease on Kellynch Hall, in order to make room for the supposedly engaged couple to move in. To a woman of Anne’s sensibilities and discretion, the moment is horrifyingly awkward. Fortunately, she readily dismisses the rumors in their entirety, and the lovers are able to swiftly find themselves reunited.

brock2So much more satisfying is the final version! Our old friends from Uppercross arrive in Bath, bringing with them their own value and regard for Anne, as well as the impetus for throwing her and Wentworth back into the same society. We have that wonderful moment when Sir Walter and Elizabeth arrive at the Musgrove’s lodgings, making a big display of condescension by including the Captain in their card party invitation. We also have the supreme satisfaction of Charles Musgrove dismissing the Elliots’ mincing superiority. But most importantly we have that amazing moment when Anne and Captain Harville discuss the lasting affections of men and women while Wentworth listens, writes, and responds. The second version of the ending is immensely more sophisticated than the first. As a true fan, I still wish the story was yet longer, but thank goodness Austen made the changes she did. The letter, the stroll down the gravel walk, the shared confessions and reminiscences at the card party – the book would be a shadow of itself without all of it.

In all of Austen’s novels, the last chapter provides a rather rapid conclusion. The very first lines of these chapters often reveal her conscious haste. In Mansfield Park:

                     Let other pens dwell on guilt and misery. I quit such odious subjects as soon as I can, impatient to restore everybody,    not greatly in fault themselves, to tolerable comfort, and to have done with all the rest.

And in Persuasion:

Who can be in doubt of what followed? 

As readers, we wish she had lingered longer on the happily ever afters. I even wrote a short story collection drawing out these endings, following Austen’s hints about what happened, dwelling on the “guilt and misery” as well as the romance (the Persuasion tale is now available at Austen Author’s The Writer’s Block, if you are curious). Yet if Austen had given us everything we want and answered all of our questions, where would the Austenesque genre be? I will continue to strive to slow myself down and take the time to tell the story to completion, but I also feel pretty comfortable leaving my readers to dream up their own conclusions. As readers and writers, what do you think? Do you struggle with endings?

The entire text of Persuasion as well as the cancelled chapters are available at Molland’s Circulating Library, one of my very favorite websites and an excellent tool for the Austenesque author. It is also the source for the fabulous C.E. Brock illustrations featured above.

Posted in Austen Authors, book excerpts, book release, British Navy, excerpt, Guest Post, Jane Austen, Persuasion, publishing, writing | Tagged , , , , | Comments Off on The Cancelled Chapters of Jane Austen’s “Persuasion,” a Guest Post from Alexa Adams

The Forest of Dean

In west Gloucestershire, marked by the rivers Severn and Wye, we find the Forest of Dean, a large tract of woodland and waste land reserved for royal hunting before 1066. It remains the second largest of the principal Crown forests in England. (List of Royal Forests can be found HERE.) The forest likely got its name from a manor called “Dean,” found in the northeast corner of the forest. It is where the Forest’s administrative centre was located in the late 11th Century. The name Forest of Dean was recorded circa 1080. 

In the 13th Century, the Forest of Dean extended northwards as far as Ross-on-Wye in Herefordshire, Newent, and Gloucester. From that time, the forest encompassed 33 Gloucestershire and Herefordshire parishes. It contained a central, uncultivated area retained for the Crown. “Revised bounds, perambulated in 1300 and accepted by the Crown in 1327, reduced the extent of the Forest to the royal demesne and 14 parishes or parts of parishes, most of them, like the demesne itself, in St. Briavels hundred. After 1668 in practice, and after 1833 officially, the Forest comprised the royal demesne only. The changes in the bounds over the centuries are described below. The royal demesne remained extraparochial until the 1840s when, villages and hamlets having grown up within it, it was formed into the civil townships (later parishes) of East Dean and West Dean and into ecclesiastical districts. After mid 20th-century changes the bulk of the former demesne land belonged in 1994 to the civil parishes of West Dean, Lydbrook, Cinderford, Ruspidge, and Drybrook.” (Forest of Dean: Introduction)

 

The Forest of Dean was a significant producer of oak timber, especially important to the British Royal Navy.

Lord Nelson wrote of the forest:

“The Forest of Dean contains about 23,000 acres of the finest Land in the Kingdom, which I am informed, if in high cultivation of Oak, would produce about 9200 loads of timber fit for building Ships of the Line every year; that is, the Forest would grow in full vigour 920,000 trees.

“The State of the Forest at this moment is deplorable, for if my information is true there is not 3500 Load of Timber in the whole forest fit for building and now coming forward. It is useless, I admit, to state the causes of such a want of Timber where so much could be produced, except that by knowing the faults we may be better enabled to amend ourselves.

“First, the generality of trees for these last fifty years have been allowed to stand too long. They are passed by instead of removed and thus occupy a space, which ought to have been replanted with young trees.”

2006-p18-01.jpg (To read the entire letter, visit Woodland Heritage, which reproduced the letter. Reproduced with the kind permission of “The Mariner’s Mirror” – Journal of the Society for Nautical Research. Go HERE.)

The forests also contained beech and chestnut trees, especially near Flaxley, providing the name for the woods called the “Chestnuts.” Hazel, birch, sallow, holly, and alder could also be found. ” In 1282 various ‘lands’, or forest glades, maintained by the Crown presumably as grazing for the deer, included several with names later familiar in the Forest’s history, Kensley, Moseley, Cannop, Crump meadow, and Whitemead (later a part of Newland parish). Numerous smaller clearings called ‘trenches’ had also been made as corridors alongside roads for securing travellers against ambush or for the grazing and passage of the deer. Larger areas of waste, or ‘meends’, such as Clearwell Meend and Mitcheldean Meend, lay on the borders adjoining the manorial lands, whose inhabitants used them for commoning their animals.

“Much ancient woodland was destroyed to make charcoal for the iron industry in the 16th and 17th centuries, but the re-establishment of the woods was encouraged by a policy of inclosure begun in the 1660s and designed to produce shipbuilding timber. The policy faltered during the 18th century but in the early 19th century large new inclosures were again formed and planted almost entirely with oak. A few Weymouth pines planted before 1787 were apparently the first conifers introduced to the Forest, and conifers were widely planted in the 19th century to shelter the young oak plantations. Large plantations of pure conifer were made during the 20th century and threatened to dominate the woodlands before 1971 when a policy of keeping equal proportions of coniferous and broadleaved trees was adopted. In 1994, when the Forest was more thickly planted than for several centuries, it included isolated late 17th-century oaks, park-like areas of early 19th-century oak preserved mainly as an amenity, and large plantations of oak, beech, fir, and spruce managed for commercial purposes.” (Forest of Dean: Introduction)

According to History of the Royal Forest of Dean tells us, “The 19th century saw the major development of industry. Enterprise and innovation combined with rich natural resources brought inventions, investors and workers to the Forest from many parts of Britain. Industrialisation demanded improved communications and better transport links. In the late 19th century original tram roads were converted to railways with all the Forest towns connected to the main lines bordering the area and linking with the docks at Lydney. Lydney Harbour has recently been restored to preserve its historical importance as a key player in the industrial development of the Forest of Dean.

“As a woodland, the Forest of Dean has played an important part in the heritage of Britain especially from the 17th century when the oak timber, and indeed iron, became important for the expanding shipbuilding industry. The exploitation of the area’s timber and iron ore resources continued throughout the Civil War but in 1649 recommendations were made for the conservation and management of the Forest. This was pursued by a Commission whose long-term work was scuppered by growing demand from the Navy. It was not until the Dean Forest (Reforestation) Act 1668 that effective management commenced, albeit dogged with trouble for another 120 years. During a visit to the Forest in 1802, Lord Nelson highlighted that the ‘finest timber in the kingdom’ was in a deplorable state. Consequently 30 million acorns were planted across 11,000 acres, but the oak was redundant before half grown thanks to its rapid replacement in shipbuilding by iron and steel!

“Despite further demands during the war years, the Forest, due to careful planting and felling programme’s, has maintained much of its traditional appearance. In addition, much of the war-time felling was replanted with oak and other broad leaved mixtures. The National Forest policy of 1958 emphasised the need for timber production but highlighted the need for due regard to amenity and recreation.”

royal_forest_of_dean.jpg

Resources and Additional Reading: 

Forest of Dean History Society

Forest of Dean: Introduction ~ pages 285 – 294 A History of the County of Gloucester: Volume 5, Bledisloe Hundred, St. Briavels Hundred, the Forest of Dean. Originally published by Victoria County History, London, 1996. ~ Read Online at http://www.british-history.ac.uk/vch/glos/vol5/pp285-294

History of the Forest of Dean by Stephen Baker

History of the Royal Forest of Dean 

Nelson and the Forest of Dean 

 

Posted in estates, history, Industrial Revolution, kings and queens, legacy, royalty | Tagged , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Do You Know These Words and Phrases?

Go Through Fire and Water ~ English for Students tells us, “Go through fire and water means to face any peril. This phrase originally referred to the medieval practice of trial by ordeal which could take the form of making an accused person hold or walk on red-hot iron or of throwing them into water.”

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Blackguard ~ World Wide Words tells us, “It’s sad that this contemptuous term for a scoundrel, a man who behaves in a dishonourable or contemptible way, has fallen out of use, since it carries a big punch. Our usual pronunciation as “blaggard” obscures its curious composition. Who or what was the black guard that got itself such a dreadful reputation? If I had a time machine handy, I’d go back to about 1500 and ask some pointed questions of Londoners. Failing this device, matters have to remain somewhat obscure.

“The earliest recorded use, by a few years, was in 1535. Then it referred to low menials in a royal or noble household. They were the ones who looked after the pots and pans and other kitchen utensils: the scullions or kitchen-knaves. Nobody knows for sure why they were said to be black — perhaps the colour of the pots literally or figuratively rubbed off on them. A slightly later sense is of the rabble that followed an army about: the servants, camp-followers and general hangers-on (here black presumably has its common derogatory sense). There seems to be a third sense, which refers to a guard of attendants or soldiers who were dressed in black; it’s possible that there really was a Black Guard — so called — at Westminster about this time (there are account records that refer to them, but nobody has any idea who they actually were).

“By the eighteenth century, the term was applied to children and young people who made a living any way they could, either as boot blacks or general assistants to soldiers (presumably this was a joke on the literal form of the word). Our modern sense appeared about 1730, and was a highly offensive term for a scoundrel or villain, or any low worthless minor criminal.”

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Paint the Town Red ~ Phrase Finder tells us the the phrase means to “engage in a riotous spree” and gives us a long explanation, of which I am sharing only part of it. “The allusion is to the kind of unruly behaviour that results in much blood being spilt. There are several suggestions as to the origin of the phrase. The one most often repeated, especially within the walls of the Melton Mowbray Tourist Office, is a tale dating from 1837. It is said that year is when the Marquis of Waterford and a group of friends ran riot in the Leicestershire town of Melton Mowbray, painting the town’s toll-bar and several buildings red.

 

melton

Further evidence for the event, but against it being the phrase’s origin, comes from a text below a picture of the revellers, dated 1837. The picture is labelled A Spree at Melton Mowbray and subtitled Or doing the Thing in a Sporting-like manner.

220px-Marquess_of_Waterford” That event is well documented, and is certainly in the style of the Marquis, who was a notorious hooligan. To his friends he was Henry de la Poer Beresford; to the public he was known as ‘the Mad Marquis’. In the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography he is described as ‘reprobate and landowner’. His misdeeds include fighting, stealing, being ‘invited to leave’ Oxford University, breaking windows, upsetting (literally) apple-carts, fighting duels and, last but not least, painting the heels of a parson’s horse with aniseed and hunting him with bloodhounds. He was notorious enough to have been suspected by some of being ‘Spring Heeled Jack’, the strange, semi-mythical figure of English folklore. The phrase isn’t recorded in print until fifty years after the nefarious Earl’s night out.

“The picture portrays actual streets in Melton and it is very likely that it was a representation of a real event. The newspaper report describes the red paint in Ackermann’s picture, although that is difficult to discern in later prints. Neither the text of the picture nor later reports mention the Marquis of Waterford or, more importantly, the phrase ‘paint the town red’. Actually, as pointed out above, the first use of the phrase in print is quite a lot later – not until 1883 in fact, and in New York, not Leicestershire. The New York Times, July 1883 has:

“Mr. James Hennessy offered a resolution that the entire body proceed forthwith to Newark and get drunk… Then the Democrats charged upon the street cars, and being wafted into Newark proceeded, to use their own metaphor, to ‘paint the town red’.”

“The other early references to the phrase also relate to America rather than England. The November 1884 edition of the Boston [Mass.] Journal has:

 

“Whenever there was any excitement or anybody got particularly loud, they always said somebody was ‘painting the town red’.”

“The next is Rudyard Kipling. That’s as English as you can get one would have thought. In this case though he too is referring to America – in his book Abaft Funnel, 1889:

“They would do their best towards painting that town [Chicago] in purest vermilion.”

There are other theories too:

“Jaipur (The Pink City) is the capital of the Indian state of Rajasthan. The old buildings of the city are constructed from pink sandstone. In 1853 it was painted pink in honour of a visit from Prince Albert. If that were the origin though, why don’t we paint the town pink?

“William and Mary Morris in their Morris Dictionary of Word and Phrase Origins say it probably originated on the American frontier. They link it to ‘red light district’ and suggest that people out for a night ‘on the town’ might very well take it into their heads to make the whole town red. Well, they might, then again they might not.

“It is sometimes said to come from the US slang use of “paint” to mean “drink”, When someone’s drunk their face and nose are flushed red, hence the analogy.”

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Broom-Squire ~ Again I return to World Wide Words. They explain: “A house recently advertised for sale near the Devil’s Punchbowl in Surrey mentioned that it had once been used by broom-squires. These weren’t the minor aristocracy of rural places that the second half of their title suggests but poor rural artisans.

“They were famously evoked by Sabine Baring-Gould — Anglican priest, antiquarian and novelist — in his 1896 novel The Broom-Squire, set near the house:

“At some unknown date squatters settled in the Punch-Bowl, at a period when it was in as wild and solitary a region as any in England. They enclosed portions of the slopes. They built themselves hovels; they pastured their sheep, goats, cattle on the sides of the Punch-Bowl, and they added to their earnings the profits of a trade they monopolized — that of making and selling brooms. On the lower slopes of the range grew coppices of Spanish chestnut, and rods of this wood served admirably for broom-handles. The heather when long and wiry and strong, covered with its harsh leafage and myriad hard knobs, that were to burst into flower, answered for the brush. On account of this manufacture, the squatters in the Punch-Bowl went by the designation of Broom-Squires. They provided with brooms every farm and gentleman’s house, nay, every cottage for miles around. A wagon-load of these besoms was often purchased, and the supply lasted some years.

A broom-squire’s cottage, c 1900.
“A hand-coloured postcard of about 1900. The broom-squire’s cottage is presumably the brick-and-tile one in the background, a great step up from the hovels of earlier descriptions.

“Broom-squires were necessarily restricted to the heathlands of England, such as the Surrey Heaths of the story and the New Forest further south, though at times the brush of the broom wasn’t heather but birch twigs, strictly speaking turning their makers into besom-squires, a term that appears only rarely.

“Squire is not a term of respect here. Alongside its sense of a country gentleman was a contemptuous one that evolved from its oldest meaning of an attendant on a knight, hence later merely a servant, and a lowly one at that. A close relative is the long obsolete apple-squire, which may be politely defined as a male companion of a woman of ill-repute, more accurately a pimp (we may guess the apple was a sly reference to the biblical Eve, though the Oxford English Dictionary suggests a woman’s breasts were meant). Broom-squires, often itinerant and always poor, had an unsavoury reputation not so far removed from the then conventional view of gypsies.

“A footnote in The Sporting Review in December 1840 to an article about hunting over yet another heath, in Somerset, described broom-squires negatively as ‘A variety of the genus homo found on Quantock, living on whortleberries, dwarf-birch, &c, &c. Towards winter they frequent the lower grounds, and prey on game of all sorts, preferring that of their own killing.'”

Other reports mention the rude huts they inhabited. The thatched sixteenth-century former gamekeeper’s cottage mentioned in the property advert was unlikely ever to have been the home of broom-squires. However, it makes a good story for the sales brochures.

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Have you watched the popular British-American drama television series, Penny Dreadful? Ever wonder the source of the title? 

Phrase Finder tells us, “Penny Dreadful is a cheap publication, containing melodramas written in a colourful and down-market style.

Penny dreadful magazine cover Penny dreadful is a rather dated expression, for no one can purchase a magazine for a penny these days.

“The expression is American and came into use in the late 19th century as a pejorative term for the numerous cheap crime magazines that purveyed poorly written and hackneyed storylines. The establishment were critical of the time spent on such by the working classes, as this comment in the North American Review, 1861 indicates: ‘They can read the ‘penny dreadful,’ but they cannot darn their stockings or mend their shoes.'”

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Arenaceous ~ World Wide Words tells us, “It means to have the appearance or consistency of sand. Unlike sabulous and its close relative arenose, both of which also refer to something sandlike and which rarely appear outside lists of rare words, arenaceous is still very much with us.

“But it’s a term you’re most likely to find in a deeply technical article that discusses matters such as “the influence of matrix conduction upon hydrogeophysical relationships in arenaceous aquifers” or refers to the ‘squamulose lichen of both calcareous and arenaceous soils.’ The rest of us can make do with sandy.

“If its spelling reminds you of arena, a public entertainment space, that is no accident. Both derive from arena or harena, the Latin word for sand. The English word arena comes from the name for the central part of a Roman amphitheatre in which gladiatorial fights and the like took place and which was strewn with sand to absorb the blood.

“Very rarely you may find arenaceous used figuratively. James Russell Lowell did so in Among My Books in 1876 when writing of William Wordsworth: ‘He seems striving to bind the wizard Imagination with the sand-ropes of dry disquisition, and to have forgotten the potent spell-word which would make the particles cohere. There is an arenaceous quality in the style which makes progress wearisome.'”

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Congé ~ Merriam Webster Dictionary gives us the origin of the word: alteration of earlier congee, congie, from Middle English conge, from Anglo-French cungé, from Latin commeatus going back and forth, leave, from commeare to go back and forth, from com- + meare to go. It means: a formal permission to depart;  a ceremonious bow; farewell; an architectural molding of concave profile. Meanwhile, Dictionary.com gives us these historical examples: 

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John S. Farmer in Slang and Its Analougues: Past and Present (Volume 1, page 130 – 134) gives us this definition of Barrack-Hack: “1. In an inoffensive sense applied to young women who attend garrison balls year after year. So used, there is no such imputation of lax morals as occurred in sense 2. 2. A soldier’s prostitute. “

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Farmer (page 135) also gives us these slang words: Barres, which means “(gaming) Money lost at play, but not paid. The term is an old one, and has long been obsolete. A corrupt form of ‘barrace,’ an obsolete plural of ‘bar.’ (and) Barrikin “(common) Gibberish; jargon; a jumble of words. see quote: 1851-1861 H. Mayhew, London Lab. and Lon. Poor, vol. 1, p. 15. ‘The high words in a tragedy we call jaw-breakers, and say we can’t tumble to that barrikin. Ibid. p. 25, Can’t tumble to your BARRIKIN. [i.e., can’t understand you]. Ibid., p. 27, The rich has all that BARRIKIN to themselves.” 

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Posted in etymology, word origins, word play | Tagged , , , , | 3 Comments

A Bit About Horses, Guest Blog from Jude Knight + Release of “A Raging Madness” + a Giveaway

Today, I welcome my internet friend, Jude Knight, with a bit about her research on horses and the latest release in The Golden Redepennings series, plus a GIVEAWAY. 

My qualifications for writing about horses are ten years as a Riding for the Disabled mum, five as a Pony Club mum, and seven as the reluctant care-taker of one or more obstreporous ponies.

racing horseYet I write Regencies, and in Regency times, gentlemen were as obsessed with their horses as today’s men are with their cars or motorbikes. In fact, in two of my books, including the latest release, the hero breeds horses for sale.

Which meant I had a lot to learn. I knew the smell of wet pony, and the tricks it can get up to when it doesn’t want the bridle and saddle. That was a start. Many blog posts, library books, video clips, websites, and questions to friends later, I still think that one end bites and the other kicks. But I’m slightly more confident about sending my horse-mad heroes out into the wide world.

In The Bluestocking and the Barbarian, Lord Sutton breeds Turkmen horses he and his family have brought from their home in the Kopet Dag mountains. Lord Sutton’s Turkmens, a predecessor of today’s Ahkal Teke, arrived in England well after the heyday of what they then called the orientals, or hot bloods. Finer boned, thinner skinned, faster, and more spirited than the European horses (known as cold bloods), the imports from Turkey, Persia, and middle Asia fascinated the English of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.

From the two lines came the warm bloods, direct ancestors of today’s thoroughbreds. Indeed, the thoroughbred stud book was founded in the late eighteenth century (for horses intended for racing) and records all English Thoroughbred breeding even today. A thoroughbred was a horse whose birth and lineage was recorded in the book. Other horses with the same breeding not intended for racing were known simply as ‘bloods’.

unnamedIf you wanted to sell, or to buy, a horse, you might go to a local horse fair. Or, if you lived in London, you’d drop down to Tattersall’s on Hyde Park Corner. It had been founded in 1766 by a former groom of the Duke of Kingston, and held auctions every Monday and on Thursdays during the Season. Tatersall’s charged a small commission on each sale, but also charged both buyers and sellers for stabling.

You could buy horses, carriages, hounds, harnesses — whatever a gentleman (or his lady, but ladies did NOT go to Tattersall’s) needed. And in Regency times, gentlemen visited on other days to place a bet on an upcoming race, or just to meet and chat. The Jockey Club met there, and moved with it to a later London location and then to Newmarket. Tattersall’s is still a leading bloodstock auctioneer, and still in Newmarket.

Alex Redepenning My hero in A Raging Madness had been a cavalry officer. Britain had no formal studs for breeding war horses. Instead, they bought their horses from civilian breeders. This meant the British cavalry rode horses bred to be hunters, race horses, and carriage horses—usually thoroughbreds or thoroughbred crosses. Each colonel bought the horses for his own regiment. In 1795, the regulations established a budget of thirty pounds for a light mount and forty for a heavy mount. This budget didn’t change for the rest of the war with France, despite wartime shortages.cavalry charge

Here Alex is telling his brother his plan:

“Father says you are planning to breed horses. For the army, Alex? Racing? What’s your plan?”

“Carriage and riding horses, we thought. I know more about training war horses, of course, but to breed them to be torn apart for the sins of men? I don’t have the heart for it. And there’s always a market for a good horse.”

****

More about horses

Geri Walton tells us about work horses, especially the heavy breeds. https://www.geriwalton.com/work-horses-in-the-regency-era/

Regency Redingote explains the origins of the term ‘blood horse’, and the pedigree of the General Stud Book. https://regencyredingote.wordpress.com/2010/11/05/the-english-blood-horse/

Regency Writing has a useful article on housing horses, and the work of a stable. http://regencywriter-hking.blogspot.co.nz/2013/07/eighteenth-and-nineteenth-century-horse.html

Shannon Donnelly’s Fresh Ink explains the many different uses of the horse in Regency England. https://shannondonnelly.com/2011/07/28/the-regency-horse-world/ This article also describes common carriage types, side saddles and riding habits.

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a raging madness new style small A Raging Madness: Book 2 of The Golden Redepennings

Their marriage is a fiction. Their enemies are all too real.

Ella survived an abusive and philandering husband, in-laws who hate her, and public scorn. But she’s not sure she will survive love. It is too late to guard her heart from the man forced to pretend he has married such a disreputable widow, but at least she will not burden him with feelings he can never return.

Alex understands his supposed wife never wishes to remarry. And if she had chosen to wed, it would not have been to him. He should have wooed her when he was whole, when he could have had her love, not her pity. But it is too late now. She looks at him and sees a broken man. Perhaps she will learn to bear him. 

In their masquerade of a marriage, Ella and Alex soon discover they are more well-matched than they expected. But then the couple’s blossoming trust is ripped apart by a malicious enemy. Two lost souls must together face the demons of their past to save their lives and give their love a future.

Jude KnightMeet the Author Jude Knight

Jude Knight’s writing goal is to transport readers to another time, another place, where they can enjoy adventure and romance, thrill to trials and challenges, uncover secrets and solve mysteries, delight in a happy ending, and return from their virtual holiday refreshed and ready for anything.

She writes historical novels, novellas, and short stories, mostly set in the early 19th Century. She writes strong determined heroines, heroes who can appreciate a clever capable woman, villains you’ll love to loathe, and all with a leavening of humour.

Website: http://judeknightauthor.com/

Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/JudeKnightAuthor/

Twitter:  https://twitter.com/JudeKnightBooks

Pinterest:  https://nz.pinterest.com/jknight1033/

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/JudeKnight

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8603586.Jude_Knight

Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/Jude-Knight/e/B00RG3SG7I

NOW FOR THE GIVEAWAY:  Comment below to be part of the giveaway. Ms. Knight will give one lucky winner a choice of Candle’s Christmas Chair, Gingerbread Bride, or Farewell to Kindness, all part of The Golden Redepennings series. The Giveaway ends at midnight EDST, Monday, May 22. 

51uLDhETl4L When Viscount Avery comes to see an invalid chair maker, he does not expect to find Min Bradshaw, the woman who rejected him 3 years earlier. Or did she? He wonders if there is more to the story. For 3 years, Min Bradshaw has remembered the handsome guardsman who courted her for her fortune. She didn’t expect to see him in her workshop, and she certainly doesn’t intend to let him fool her again.

51D8YtgryjL Lieutenant Rick Redepenning has been saving his admiral’s intrepid daughter from danger since their formative years, but today, he faces the gravest of threats–the damage she might do to his heart. How can he convince her to see him as a suitor, not just a childhood friend?

Travelling with her father’s fleet has left Mary Pritchard ill-prepared for London Society, and prey to the machinations of false friends. When she strikes out on her own to find a more suitable locale to take up her solitary spinsterhood, she finds adventure, trouble, and her girlhood hero, riding once more to her rescue.

This novella first appeared in the Bluestocking Belles box set Mistletoe, Marriage, and Mayhem.

61xqy6MCs1L._SY346_ Rede, the Earl of Chirbury wants the beautiful widow, Anne Forsythe, from the moment he first sees her. Not that he has time for dalliance, or that the virtuous widow would be available if he did. Or perhaps not so virtuous? She lives rent-free in a cottage belonging to the estate, courtesy of his predecessor and cousin, George. And her daughter’s distinctive eyes mark the little girl as George’s child. But it isn’t just the mystery that surrounds her that keeps drawing him to her side.

Anne Forsythe has good cause to be wary of men, peers and members of the Redepenning family. The Earl of Chirbury is all three, and a distraction she does not need. If she can hide her sisters until the youngest turns 21, they will be safe from her uncle’s sinister plans. And she is a virtuous woman, her reputation in the village built through years of impeccable behaviour. The Earl of Chirbury is not for her, and she will not fall to his fascinating smile, gentle teasing, and tragic past. Let him continue to pursue the villains who ordered the deaths of his family three years ago, and leave her and her family alone.

But good intentions fly in the face of their strong attraction, until several accidents make Rede believe his enemies are determined to kill him, and Anne wonder whether her uncle has found her. To build a future together, they must be prepared to face their pasts—something their deadly enemies have no intention of allowing.

Posted in book excerpts, book release, British history, eBooks, excerpt, family, Georgian England, Guest Blog, Guest Post, historical fiction, Living in the Regency, marriage, Napoleonic Wars, Regency era, Regency romance, romance, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

Georgian Commerce: The London Docks, Part V

In Roman and medieval times, ships tended to dock at small quays in the present-day  city of London or Southwark an area known as the Pool of London. However, this gave no protection against the elements, was vulnerable to thieves and suffered from a lack of space at the quayside. The Howland Great Dock in Rotherhithe in (built 1696 and later forming the core of the Surrey Commercial Docks) was designed to address these problems, providing a large, secure and sheltered anchorage with room for 120 large vessels. It was a major commercial success and provided for two phases of expansion during the Georgian and Victorian eras. The first of the Georgian docks was the West India (opened 1802), followed by the London (1805), the East India (also 1805), the Surrey (1807), the Regent’s Canal Dock (1820),  St Katharine (1828) and the West India South (1829). The Victorian docks were mostly further east, comprising the Royal Victoria (1855), Millwall (1868) and Royal Albert (1880). The King George V Dock was a late addition in 1921. (London Docklands)

1280px-thames_river_1882

Edward Weller (d. 1884) – A Dictionary Practical, Theoretical, and Historical of Commerce and Commercial Navigation by J.R. M’Culloch – Longmans, Green and Co. London, 1882 “River Thames with the Docks from Woolwich to the Tower” from This map shows all of the main upstream London docks except the King George V Dock, which had not been built. It was to be located to the south of the Royal Albert Dock, which is the large dock at the far right. Public Domain. Wikipedia

800px-London_Dock_Custom_and_Excise_1820.jpg The London Docks, located at Wapping, were the second dock system to be built in London. A large range of items were traded at the London Docks, including: tobacco, marble, bark, rubber, whalebones, iodine, mercury, wool, wax, paper, hemp, coir yarn, rattans, jute, skins, coconuts, sausage skins, rice, fruit, olive oil, fish oil, nuts, sugar, coffee, cocoa, spices, chutney, brandy, wine, rum, and sherry. 

Early on, the London Docks dealt with the tobacco and wool trade. The ‘Tobacco Warehouse’ covered five acres of land and was rented by the government for around £15,600 per year. Making £2.6 million per annum, the ‘Great Wool-Floor’ at the London Dock was famous for its weekly public sales of wool, with some 25,000 bales sold every week. It employed 200 men. The London Dock was granted a monopoly for 21 years that declared that vessels entering the Port of London with cargoes of tobacco, rice, wine and brandy (except vessels from the East and West Indies) were required to unload at London Docks. The vaults at the London Docks held liquor, tobacco and other precious goods in bond. Police guarded the merchandise, which was often opened for inspection. Customs and Excise and merchants held ‘tasting permits.’

Initially, sailing vessels were brought into the London Docks. Fortunately, as the ships changed from sails to steam the docks required little rebuilding to accommodate the ships of the 19th century.  However, as vessels increased in size into the 20th century, the docks struggled to cope. As container ships became more popular, the London Docks became unable to cope with their size.

800px-plan_of_london_docks_by_henry_palmer_1831

A map of the London Docks in 1831 Henry Robinson Palmer – This file comes from the Bodleian Libraries, a group of research libraries in Oxford University. Public Domain. Wikipedia

Port Cities London provides us these facts regarding the London Docks: 

  • The site covered 20 acres of land. A further 12 acres was developed to create a second dock.
  • The head engineer for the project was John Rennie.
  • The cost of the project was £4 million.
  • Rubble and soil was shipped up the river in barges and laid as the foundations for Pimlico.
  • The dock system consisted of two main basins, the Western Dock and the Eastern Dock, with a small basin known as the Tobacco Dock linking the two.
  • The docks were accessed from the river by three small basins, the Wapping Basin (12.19 metres in width) and the Hermitage Basin (12.19 metres in width) linking the Western Dock and the Shadwell Basin (13.72 metres in width) linking the Eastern Dock.
  • There were 6 quays in the docks, able to berth 302 sailing vessels.
  • There was 50 acres of warehouse space, containing 20 warehouses, 18 sheds and 17 vaults. The vaults covered around 20 acres of cellarage, built with ventilated vaulting.
  • A small permanent workforce was formed within 3 months of opening, including a Superintendent of the Dock and a Dockmaster. However, this was supplemented by a large casual workforce, which could number as many as 3000 labourers.
Posted in British currency, British history, buildings and structures, business, commerce, Georgian England | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

The Bow Street Runners and The Prosecution of Mr. Darcy’s Cousin, a 2016 Finalist for the Chanticleer International Book Awards

Jeffers-TMDOMD.jpg In my newest cozy mystery, The Prosecution of Mr. Darcy’s Cousin, the character of Thomas Cowan makes a repeat performance. Readers met Cowan as a friend of and former sergeant serving under Colonel Fitzwilliam during the Spanish campaign of the Napoleonic Wars in The Mysterious Death of Mr. Darcy.

Cowan, a former Bow Street Runner and a man of great intelligence,  is essential to solving the mystery plaguing the Darcy family. But what exactly was a “Runner”?

The Bow Street Runners are often referred to as London’s first professional police force. Originally numbering just eight, Henry Fielding founded the group in 1749. Unlike the “thief takers” of earlier days, the Runners followed strict guidelines and regulations. They were attached to the Bow Street magistrate’s office, hence their name. (“Bow Street Runners and the Maritime Police” JaneAusten.co.uk)

From Old Bailey Online, we learn that the Runners were part of Fielding’s innovations in crime fighting. In the 1730s, magistrates in London and Middlesex set up “rotation offices” where the citizens could find a magistrate available at certain hours each day. One such office was Bow Street, near Covent Gardens. Sir Thomas De Veil set up the magistrate’s office in 1739, but the Fielding brothers (Henry and John) took it over after De Veil’s death in 1749. The original men involved with the office were thief takers sent out on retainers. “Runners” was not a name readily accepted by the men. They preferred “Principal Officer” of Bow Street. The most famous of the time were John Sayer and John Townsend, who amassed a small fortune in their service.

The Runners were certainly the first group to  follow a method of investigation. First, the Fieldings considered the thief takers as essential in fighting the crime found in London’s streets. They investigated crimes for the government, protected the royal family, and traveled about the country to examine crimes. A series of mounted and foot patrols covered the London streets on a regular basis, as well as organizing part-time constables to patrol the major roads leading in and out of London to deter robberies, etc. The Fieldings kept meticulous records of criminals and disseminated the information to decrease the chance of repeated crimes.

The Middlesex Justices Act of 1792 founded seven policing offices in the borough, each with stipendiary magistrates and six constables to investigate crimes in the area. The Thames River Police Office at Wapping (the setting for much of the action of The Prosecution of Mr. Darcy’s Cousin) opened in 1800. One hundred officers patrolled the docks and ship yards from this office. 

9780199695164.jpg Unfortunately, by the 1820s their reputation stood in disarray. Many individuals within the organization associated with common thief takers and were known to look the other way when a crime was not of notice. The government disbanded them in 1839. [J.M. Beattie, The First English Detectives: The Bow Street Runners and the Policing of London, 1750-1840 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012)

By the beginning of the 1800s, many defendants who appeared at Old Bailey were appended by salaried officers, who testified at the trials. 

Another book I particularly like on the subject is this one: David J. Cox, A Certain Share of Low Cunning: A History of the Bow Street Runners, 1792-1839 (Portland: Willan Publishing, 2010).

 

PoMDC Cover-3 copyThe Prosecution of Mr. Darcy’s Cousin: A Pride and Prejudice Mystery

Fitzwilliam Darcy is enjoying his marital bliss. His wife, the former Elizabeth Bennet, presented him two sons and a world of contentment. All is well until “aggravation” rears its head when Darcy receives a note of urgency from his sister Georgiana. In truth, Darcy never fully approved of Georgiana’s joining with their cousin, Major General Edward Fitzwilliam, for Darcy assumed the major general held Georgiana at arm’s length, dooming Darcy’s sister to a life of unhappiness.

Dutifully, Darcy and Elizabeth rush to Georgiana’s side when the major general leaves his wife and daughter behind, with no word of his whereabouts and no hopes of Edward’s return. Forced to seek his cousin in the slews of London’s underbelly, at length, Darcy discovers the major general and returns Fitzwilliam to his family.

Even so, the Darcys’ troubles are far from over. During the major general’s absence from home, witnesses note Fitzwilliam’s presence in the area of two horrific murders. When Edward Fitzwilliam is arrested for the crimes, Darcy must discover the real culprit before the authorities hanged his cousin and the Fitzwilliam name knew a lifetime of shame.

Excerpt from Chapter 2 of The Prosecution of Mr. Darcy’s Cousin: A Pride and Prejudice Mystery

“Yes, Sir.”

A young clerk rushed forward to greet Darcy, whose arrival set his London household on its ear. After his marriage to Elizabeth Bennet, Darcy sold the smaller bachelor Town house he purchased after reaching his majority and acquired the larger one to accommodate what he hoped would be extended family. Yet, until Elizabeth turned his world on its head, Darcy did not realize how much he would enjoy having a loud, noisy family under his roof.

“How may I serve you, Sir?”

Darcy ran his gloved fingers over his lapel.

“Mr. Darcy to speak to Mr. Cowan.”

The clerk presented a proper obeisance. The man glanced at an appointment log lying open upon the desk.

“Was Mr. Cowan expecting you, Sir?” the clerk asked as he ran his finger down the page, searching for Darcy’s name.

Any other time, Darcy would consider the young man’s loyalty admirable, but this matter with Edward wore Darcy’s patience thin.

“Simply inform Mr. Cowan of my desire to speak to him,” he said with practiced authority.

The clerk glanced over his shoulder as if considering a denial.

“Certainly, Mr. Darcy… if you would care to wait.”

The man motioned to a cluster of straight-backed chairs lining a far wall.

Darcy offered a crisp nod of his head. He did not observe the clerk’s retreat; yet, he knew the clever fellow would inform Cowan of Darcy’s presence.

Instead, Darcy assumed a position by the window to look out upon the busy London street. Cowan chose well for his offices, near enough to Mayfair to be accessible to the haut ton, but equally accessible to London’s swelling middle class.

Quick footsteps upon the polished wood floor announced Cowan’s approach.

“Darcy,” the man called with a ready smile, extending his hand in welcome. “What brings you to London? And how is Mrs. Darcy? I pray your lady is well.”

Darcy accepted Cowan’s hand.

“Mrs. Darcy remains her spectacular self. She is in Oxfordshire with my sister. Elizabeth sends her regards.”

Darcy eyed the lingering clerk.

“If you have a few minutes to spare, I have a need of your services.”

Cowan frowned his curiosity.

“For you I will make time.”

He turned toward his clerk.

“When Mr. Leighton arrives, apologize for the delay, and ask the gentleman to wait. Be certain to provide him a cup of tea.”

The clerk blushed.

“Yes, Sir. Would Mr. Darcy also care for tea?”

Darcy shook off the offer.

“I will be quick, Cowan. I realize you are engaged.”

“Never too occupied for you, Darcy.”

His friend directed Darcy’s steps to a small, but comfortable, office at the rear of the building. The room reflected the former Bow Street Runner’s simple, classic tastes. After they settled, Cowan leaned forward.

“What is so pressing, Darcy?”

Darcy removed his gloves and placed them, along with his hat, on the desk’s corner.

“I have a matter of a personal nature.”

After the Runner’s assistance with his family’s debacle in Dorset, Darcy knew he could trust Thomas Cowan.

“Without warning, the major general abandoned his wife and daughter in Oxfordshire. My sister received but one brief note declaring her husband’s desire to return to his military service and instructing Georgiana to seek a homecoming with me.”

Cowan’s scowl deepened.

“I feared for some time that Edward Fitzwilliam would not willingly encounter his ghosts before they came to claim him.”

Cowan retrieved a small journal from his desk. Opening it, he prepared to write.

“I require all the details you possess. After I determine Mr. Leighton’s issues, I will set my resources into action to learn more of the major general’s trail.”

Despite Darcy’s initial anger with the major general for running off to what was a probable drunken pity-laced birl, Darcy experienced a shiver of dread run down his spine. Perhaps something more sinister occurred: Cowan’s remark emphasized Darcy and Elizabeth’s private concerns.

With anxiety lacing his explanation, Darcy summarized what he knew of Edward’s recent activities, belatedly realizing he lacked the details of what occurred between his sister and his cousin.

“Perhaps I should send to Witney for Elizabeth and Georgiana to join us,” he suggested. “My sister could better address your questions.”

In silence, Cowan studied his notes.

“I think it best we leave the ladies in the country for now. I suspect the major general sought solace in London’s pitch, for it reflects his opinion of his worth.”

Although he would not own it, the investigator’s words reinforced Darcy’s notion of the sword of Damocles above their heads.

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Posted in British history, Great Britain, Jane Austen, Living in the Regency, Regency era | Tagged , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

What Is Not in Jane Austen’s Tales, a Guest Post from Jennifer Petkus

What’s Not in Jane Austen

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It can be hard to find the duel in Sense and Sensibility

After reading and watching countless Jane Austen adaptations, it can sometimes be difficult to separate what Austen actually wrote in those six published novels with what we think she wrote. (Full disclosure: I once embarrassed myself by conflating the events of Pride and Prejudice and Zombies with the original.)

We’ve populated, expanded and explored the world of those novels so thoroughly that our confusion is understandable. Because of Austen, I’ve read many histories of the period. I know the Industrial Revolution was beginning to transform Britain, but unless you’re a knowledgeable reader and paid attention to John Dashwood enclosing the commons, you’d think it largely absent. I know the Napoleonic Wars were ongoing, but unless you asked yourself why there were all those red coats in Meryton, you’d think Austen had ignored it. Sometimes, though, I could swear there are more explicit references in Austen to these events and I’ve wasted a lot of time looking for what isn’t there. (Yes, there are some references to ship actions in Persuasion and Mansfield Park, but mostly in the context of gentlemanly bragging.)

Let’s look at some specific and then some general examples of what we think is in Austen’s novels, but isn’t.

Caricature_gillray_plumpudding
In the words of Basil Fawlty, “Don’t mention the war!” You can find the Napoleonic War in Austen’s novels, but you have to look.

The atlas
One of the easily understandable misconceptions, especially if you’re as fond of the Ang Lee/Emma Thompson adaptation of Sense and Sensibility as I am, is the atlas business with Edward Ferrars and Margaret Dashwood. It’s such a charming scene and does so much to make us like Edward, that’s it’s hard to remember it’s not in Austen’s story. This, of course, goes back to Dr. Joan Ray’s talk about Sense and Sensibility as the problem novel, inasmuch as Edward as hero doesn’t quite fit the bill. After all, the poor man hardly has a line of dialog in the first 15 chapters of the book, and yet because of various adaptations, we can conjure in our imagination all the conversations that attracted Elinor Dashwood to him. Unfortunately none of those conversations were written down.

The duel
Another thing that’s not in the book is the duel between Colonel Brandon and Willoughby. Sure there’s that line Brandon speaks: “…we met by appointment, he to defend, I to punish his conduct. We returned unwounded, and the meeting, therefore, never got abroad.” We can infer they met for the purpose of a duel, but it’s hardly clear that it was actually fought. I read Sense and Sensibility the first two times and somehow overlooked the duel and it wasn’t until I read an annotated edition that I recognized the five paragraphs that describe it. If you remember reading about the duel in any depth, I’m afraid you’re wrong.

Conversations between men
Most Janeites know that Austen never wrote conservations that happened solely among men. But we can take that further and say that even though Austen wrote in the third person, she rarely wrote of things outside the immediate experience of her protagonist, once that protagonist has been introduced. The conversation between Fanny and John Dashwood, when Fanny shortchanges her poor relations, happens before we meet Elinor. From that point on, we learn things at the same time as Elinor (although Austen often does draw back from the characters in the final chapter).

I’m pretty sure this is why the duel never gets written down in any detail. It would have happened outside the experience of Elinor and would have involved actions solely among men.

Kissing
There’s no kissing in baseball or Jane Austen, which goes against the expectations of those familiar with filmed adaptations (witness the recent poll in Austen Authors). Most of us feel rewarded when at the end of an Austen adaptation Elizabeth or Anne or Elinor have that one kiss that reminds us of William Goldman’s line from The Princess Bride: “Since the invention of the kiss, there have only been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind.” Good luck finding that in Austen. Kisses are for babies or locks of hair; they’re not the stuff of passion. (By the way, I think Sharon Lathan will have a more in-depth exploration of kissing in Austen in an upcoming post.)

Church service
For all the clergymen in Austen’s life and all the clergymen in the novels, I cannot recall any church service that occurs in the novels and the only services that I can recall from any filmed adaptation would be the marriage service. Yes, there are conversations in Mansfield Park about Edmund Bertram’s first sermon, but we don’t get to hear it. I swear I’ve seen or read of shy glances exchanged as the congregation turns to the Book of Common Prayer or sings praise to God, but it’s all in my imagination. Touring the chapel at Sotherton is the only time I can recall her characters being in a place of worship.

Death
Although so much of Austen’s novels are propelled by death and inheritance, there are no examples of major characters dying “on screen.” Despite all the speculation of Mr. Bennet’s impending death, he survives hale and hearty in Pride and Prejudice. A Mr. Dashwood dies at the beginning of Sense and Sensibility, and his death puts in motion the entire story, but we are not invested in him. Similarly, the death of Mrs. Churchill in Emma saddens no one (her husband finally gets to visit a friend!) and certainly not the reader. Mr. Woodhouse, who we do care about, also makes it to the end, despite his fear of chills and cake. Consider what the body count would be had Elizabeth Gaskell written Pride and Prejudice (although again my perceptions are colored by filmed adaptations of Gaskell’s novels).

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Fanny Price’s Portsmouth family provides a rare glimpse of children

Children
Children don’t play much of a role in the novels. Margaret Dashwood only has a few lines of dialog in Sense and Sensibility. She does propel the plot, however, when she mentions the lock of hair. Most children are stage props, something for Emma to dandle on her knee.

The Price children in Mansfield Park do have important roles in making Fanny realize just how different she is from her Portsmouth relatives, but except for Susan, I put them on a par with the unnamed Cratchit children. Considering the large number of children in Austen’s life, this is pretty odd and perhaps may be a reaction to the large number of children in her life. Austen may have practiced family planning in her novels, with the Bennets and the Prices being the only sizable families I can recall. None of these families come close to the progeny of the Austen clan.

Tropes
There are few plot tropes in Austen as we modern-day readers might define them. In Northanger Abbey, you will recall, she makes fun of tropes like ruined castles and the mysterious death of the first Mrs. De Winter, I mean Tilney. There are no McGuffins, like letters of transit, a second will or missing family jewels.

There are a number of misconceptions and some false accusations, but I never get the sense that Austen is trying to put something over on the reader. Austen’s plots are not complicated. Only Emma, I think, is somewhat complicated, which is why it is sometimes compared to mysteries or detective fiction.

Character generally rise above, ignore or flout the few tropes that do exist. Henry Tilney ignores his father’s wishes. Edward Ferrars forgoes his status as first born son. The Bennet entail still looms and seems regarded as moot by the end of the book.

Comeuppance
There’s little consequence to being evil (or just plain mean) in Austen’s novels. Her, in my opinion, worst villain, Fanny Dashwood, is untouched by the events of Sense and Sensibility, except perhaps in her disappointment that she has Elinor Dashwood as a sister-in-law — again. Lucy Steele makes out like a bandit. General Tilney is not harmed when he casts Catherine Morland from Northanger Abbey. Lady Catherine de Bourgh is definitely pissed off not to marry her daughter to her nephew, but let’s face it, that’s probably a good thing for the gene pool and it puts her daughter into play for so many adaptations. William Elliot in Persuasion is thwarted when Anne reunites with Captain Wentworth, but we suspect he has a backup scheme.

The one exception to this might be John Willoughby, who seems to genuinely pine for Marianne Dashwood — just before he returns to his rich wife and no doubt current mistress. Compare this to Charles Dickens, who often gives his villains their just deserts. Austen is amazingly non judgmental.

Do these omissions matter to the story?
No, of course not. Austen’s genius is that she gives us so much, without having to hit the reader over the head. We don’t care that she really gives only the barest description of any character. Somehow, “fine eyes” is all we need to recognize Elizabeth Bennet.

Recognizing these omissions, however, does give us an idea what is important to her. As much as the church was part of the warp and woof of her life, she was no moralizer. As much as her fortunes were affected by her father’s death, she doesn’t really employ it as plot device. (Yes, Dickens, I’m looking at you.) As much as she must have feared for her nautical brothers and would have prayed for her safety, she doesn’t dwell on the war with France. Fanny Price, after all, is most worried about her brother William’s prospects, even though I’m sure Austen knew her heroine would also have prayed for brother’s safety.

She was a remarkably canny author. She knew her limitations and she knew what she was good at. She knew to reveal Edward Ferrars to the reader only through the conversations between Elinor and Margaret.And that’s why what’s not there is sometimes as important as what is.

61gaooT+TnL._UX250_.jpg Meet Jennifer Petkus: Jennifer Petkus divides her time creating websites for the dead, writing Jane Austen-themed mysteries, woodworking, aikido and building model starships. She has few credentials, having failed to graduate from the University of Texas with a journalism degree, but did manage to find employment at the Colorado Springs Sun newspaper as a cop reporter, copy editor and night city editor before the paper died in 1986. She lives in fear of getting a phone call from her dead Japanese mother. Her husband is the night editor at The Denver Post. Her best friend is a cop. She watched Neil Armstrong walk on the Moon live.

51JSUSe7vQL._SX322_BO1,204,203,200_.jpg  Jane Actually, or Jane Austen’s Book Tour

With the invention of the AfterNet, death isn’t quite the end to a literary career it once was, and Jane Austen, the grande dame of English literature, is poised for a comeback with the publication of Sanditon, the book she was writing upon her death in 1817. But how does a disembodied author sign autographs and appear on talk shows? With the aid of Mary Crawford, a struggling acting student who plays the role of the Regency author who wrote Pride and Prejudice and Emma and Sense and Sensibility. But Austen discovers her second chance at a literary career also gives her a second chance at happiness and possibly even … love.

51e1IHOdkWL.jpg My Particular Friend : A Charlotte House Affair

Miss Charlotte House will not admit impediments to marriage, not even when those impediments include scandal, blackmail and a duel to the death. With the help of her particular friend Miss Jane Woodsen, she deduces all that happens in Bath—both good and ill—and together they ensure that true love’s course runs smooth, even though both friends have suffered tragedies that prevent their own happiness. These six affairs, set in Bath, England, during the Napoleonic War, are inspired by the creations of both Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Jane Austen.

Posted in Austen Authors, Georgian Era, Guest Post, Jane Austen, Living in the Regency, Pride and Prejudice, Regency era, Regency romance, Tudors | Tagged , , , , , | 9 Comments