(This post originally appeared on the Austen Authors’ blog on December 30, 2020. Enjoy!)
To the unrefined or underbred, the visiting card is but a trifling and insignificant bit of paper; but to the cultured disciple of social law, it conveys a subtle and unmistakable intelligence. Its texture, style of engraving, and even the hour of leaving it combine to place the stranger, whose name it bears, in a pleasant or a disagreeable attitude, even before his manners, conversation and face have been able to explain his social position. The higher the civilization of a community, the more careful it is to preserve the elegance of its social forms. It is quite as easy to express a perfect breeding in the fashionable formalities of cards, as by any other method, and perhaps, indeed, it is the safest herald of an introduction for a stranger. Its texture should be fine, its engraving a plain script, its size neither too small, so that its recipients shall say to themselves, ‘A whimsical person,’ nor too large to suggest ostentation. Refinement seldom touches extremes in anything.
From “Our Deportment” by John H. Young, 1879 & 1881, p. 76.
Calling cards were a necessary accessory for a gentleman or lady when calling upon friends or acquaintances, or wished to announce their presence in Town. They also were a handy way to recall who had come to visit and which calls needed to be returned – or not. Cards were placed on a silver salver in the entry hall. A lady’s card would have her name, sometimes her address, and the day that she received visitors in the bottom left corner.
A turned down upper right corner indicated the card had been delivered in person, rather than by a servant. More elaborate cards had the words Visite (right upper hand) Felicitation(left upper hand) Condolence(lower left hand) and P.P.C. – pour prendage conde (right lower hand) imprinted on the corresponding corners of the reverse side. That way, whichever corner was turned over, the reason for the visit was readily apparent. P.P.C. meant the family was temporarily leaving the area. Also, Adieucould be used in this instance.
Until a formal acquaintance was recognized, members of the families could not socialize with one another. Which explains Mrs. Bennet’s frustration that her husband has not called upon Mr. Bingley. She has visions of his $5000 a year flying toward another family’s daughter. It was the expected practice of the day for established members of the community to call upon new arrivals. Unlike the social restrictions in Town. There, a socially inferior family was expected to wait for the call from someone of higher social standing. Acceptance by those of higher status was the key to social mobility in Regency society, which explains the reason behind much of Caroline Bingley’s behavior. Mr. Darcy’s friendship with Charles opened doors to places the Bingley siblings would never attain on their own.
Only men called upon men. Women did not initiate the relationship themselves. However, once the man of the house performed introductions, or, in the case of the Meryton Assembly the Master of Ceremony (Sir William Lucas) performed introductions, then the ladies could interact socially with them. Visits were most often made in the afternoon. As a general rule, new acquaintances attended between 3-4 pm, frequent acquaintances between 4-5 pm, and close friends would come after 5 pm, often staying for dinner.
If one has never written an historical book, be it fiction or nonfiction, he/she likely does not quite grasp the idea that having accuracy, even in the smallest of details, is essential.
In my latest release,Captain Stanwick’s Bride: A Tragic Characters in Classic Lit Series Novel, there is a short scene in an operating tent upon a battlefield. The hero, Captain Whittaker Stanwick is a British army prisoner being held with others in tents outside Fort McHenry, near Baltimore, Maryland.
The heroine is the daughter of a Scottish born and trained surgeon and a Powhatan Indian princess. Being an uncouth “Injun,” Beatrice assists her father during the surgery. Whit has been recruited also to assist, but his stomach nearly does him in and provide him shame, when a soldier suffering with dysentery vomits all over the ground, right in front of Whit.
Personally, I understand Whit’s reaction. Even with my own child, I could clean up every mess — and there many such occasions — but I had to find air quickly if my son decided to expel the contents of his stomach into the toilet or on the floor. One thing that always made me feel better was a toothpick, which had been dipped in mint oil, held between my teeth. [As a side note, when I was in junior high school, clove, cinnamon, and mint flavored toothpicks were all the rage. We kept them in our mouths during class until the teachers and administration banned them.] Therefore, I thought to provide Whit a ready solution to his queasy reaction. Unfortunately, in an afterthought, I realized toothpicks were not mass manufactured in America, where the story takes place during the War of 1812, until the 1860s. Even so, the keywords in that sentence were “mass manufactured.” With a twist of the idea and a some research, the scene still worked.
In truth, early Neanderthals used some sort of tool to pick their teeth. We know this because scientists have identified tooth indentations, assumed to be indicative of picking one’s teeth, among Australian Aborigines, prehistoric Native Americans, and even the earliest finds of the Egyptians. “Mesopotamians used instruments to keep dental crevices clear and artifacts such as toothpicks made out of silver, bronze and various other precious metals that date back to antiquity have also been unearthed. By the Medieval period, carrying a gold or silver toothpick in a fancy case became a way for privileged Europeans to distinguish themselves from commoners.” [A Short History of the Toothpick]
It is said that Queen Elizabeth I received six gold toothpicks as a gift from an admirer. She was known to show them off at gatherings at the palace. Supposedly, there is a portrait of an elderly Queen Elizabeth wearing a chain around her neck with a gold toothpick in a case, similar to the one pictured below.
Others made toothpicks from whatever was available. The Romans used bird feathers, chopping off the quill and sharpening the tip. Native Americans carved deer bone to form toothpicks. Eskimos used walrus whiskers. Wooden toothpicks can splinter and cause injuries.
The American Charles Forster had lived and worked in Brazil. It was there that he noticed the excellent condition of the people in the area. The Brazilians credited the imported toothpicks available from Portugal. Inspired, Forster developed a machine that would mass produce toothpicks. Regrettably, Americans were not buying something they could create for themselves with a piece of wood and a whittling knife.
Forster was not abandoning the idea; therefore, he created an unusual marketing campaign. “Some of the unusual marketing tactics he employed included hiring students to pose as store customers seeking toothpicks and instructing Harvard students to ask for them whenever they dined at restaurants. Soon enough, many local eateries would make sure toothpicks were available for patrons who somehow developed a habit of reaching for them as they’re about to leave.”
“In 1869, Alphons Krizek, of Philadelphia, received a patent for an ‘improvement in toothpicks,’ which featured a hooked end with spoon-shaped mechanism designed to clean out hollow and sensitive teeth. Other attempted ‘improvements’ include a case for a retractable toothpick and a scented coating meant to freshen one’s breath. Towards the end of the 19th century, there were literally billions of toothpicks made each year. In 1887, the count got as high as five billion toothpicks, with Forster accounting for more than half of them. And by the end of the century, there was one factory in Maine that was already making that many.”
Enjoy this excerpt from Chapter Three of Captain Stanwick’s Bride.
When he entered the area set aside for the surgical services, Miss Spurlock was separating the injured based on the degree of seriousness of the injuries. Whit had witnessed more than one field hospital and the horrors the surgeons faced, often in a feeble attempt to save the wounded.
She motioned him deeper into the large tented area. Stepping over the legs of a man who had collapsed from exhaustion or injury, Whit was uncertain of which, he turned to haul the fellow up onto a cot. A sourness clung to the soldier, the distinct smell of a man suffering from dysentery.
Whit found himself holding his breath while he assisted in removing the man’s boots. “Someone will be with you soon. Can you tell me if you have an injury?”
The man shook his head in the negative, rolled to his side, and retched. Whit quickly turned away, his stomach churning violently as he heard the man dump the contents of his stomach on the ground. He slapped his hand across his mouth to prevent his own humiliation.
“Are you well, Captain?” Miss Spurlock asked softly. “Should we discover another to assist my father? There is no shame. This work is not for everyone.”
Whit fought hard to swallow a quick intake of fresh air, but the fetid smell was too strong. He rasped, “I can assist with the blood, seen more than my share of blood, but not—”
“I understand.” She turned his shoulders toward where her father examined a man’s bloody wound. “Make yourself useful to my father.”
He forced the lead in his feet into movement, finally claiming a bit of air not laced with miasmic odors, but rather with the metallic scent of blood, something too familiar to every soldier.
“Good to have your strong arm, Captain,” Spurlock said as Whit approached. He had no doubt the surgeon had observed his reaction to the soldier’s vomiting. “I have presented the sergeant, here, laudanum, but, if I can claim any chance to save it, I cannot wait until it completely takes affect to start on the man’s hand. I ask you hold him still so I may begin.”
“Just position me where you think best.”
Spurlock maneuvered Whit to lie across the man’s chest and down on the shoulder to hold the arm in place. The injured man’s shoulders flexed, but quickly slumped back against the wood table, covered with a sheet. Whit was beginning to understand that Spurlock was one who believed in cleanliness.
“Water, Beatrice,” Spurlock ordered as he unwrapped a cloth holding several sharp instruments.
In less than a minute, Miss Spurlock brought over a bowl of water, a bar of soap, and a clean rag. She positioned a small metal tray on the table’s edge and filled it with some sort of alcohol. Then she circled to where Whit laid across the injured man. “Open your mouth,” she ordered.
“Pardon?” he asked.
“Open your mouth,” she repeated. When he did as she asked, she popped a toothpick in between his teeth. “Bite down.” She tapped his cheek, and he closed his lips around the toothpick, using his tongue to position it in the corner of his mouth. Before he could ask, she explained. “Made of wood, not like the deer bone ones my Indian relations would use, and dipped in oil of mint. The scent shall assist in disguising the more disgusting odors, and the taste will assist in settling your stomach.” She wicked at him. “Just do not permit the sergeant to punch you in the mouth while you hold him down. I understand passing a toothpick in your stool can be quite painful.”
A chuckle escaped his lips as she walked away. “Your daughter possesses an unusual sense of humor, sir.”
Spurlock glanced to where Miss Spurlock had returned to the other side of the tent. “My Beatrice be of her mother’s temperament.” The doctor sighed in what appeared to be melancholy. “There are so many nuisances of a woman’s nature a man must learn to appreciate. I miss Elizabeth’s sharp wit.” Spurlock smiled knowingly. “Among many of her other finer qualities. You are married, Stanwick. Surely you know what I mean.”
Whit fought the blush of embarrassment rushing up his chest to his cheeks. “I am no longer married. Mrs. Stanwick passed some sixteen months prior.” He nodded to the faint line where his ring had been, surprised how quickly both the line and his memories of Ruth had faded. “I traded my wedding ring for blankets and food for my men on our journey from Buffalo.”
“Then President Madison’s declaration of war precipitated your arrival in America,” Spurlock observed as he arranged his tools upon the cloth before him.
“I had been presented leave from my time upon the Continent, for I had been with Wellington for some two years upon the Spanish Peninsula. I had been in England, perhaps, two months, when I received orders to the Canadian front. At the time, I did not expect to be doing more than attempting to keep the Indian fears over American encroachment at a minimum. I was not expecting how deep the resentment between the competing parties was until I arrived in Upper Canada.”
Ready to begin the operation, Spurlock, lost in his duties, simply presented Whit a curt nod: Whit was uncertain the man had heard anything of his response, but it did not matter. Whit looked on as Spurlock unwrapped the sergeant’s hand to expose the torn flesh hanging on the white bone, which was covered in dried blood and mud. Spurlock grumbled, “I wish the army would ban muskets. Damn gun explodes nearly as often as it fires.”
Whit glanced to the wound while he sucked on the mint toothpick. He could learn to enjoy the flavor. “Can you save the fingers?”
“Probably not the small one or the ring finger, but the rest.” Spurlock began to clean away the blood and dirt from the wound. “I must remove the bone fragments. Keep him still. This can be time consuming, but necessary. If I do not remove all the fragments, infection will set in.”
“I have nothing on my social calendar,” Whit said with a grin.
“Excellent news,” Spurlock murmured with an answering smile. “You do realize the man beneath you is an American soldier.”
“The war is between our countries,” Whit responded with a shrug.
On Friday, I welcomed another Book Baby. Captain Stanwick’s Bride: A Tragic Characters in Classic Lit Series Novel is a Regency romance that is set against the fiercest battles of the War of 1812 between England and the United States. My hero, Captain Whittaker Stanwick, is a captain in the British army. My heroine, Miss Beatrice Spurlock, is half Native American and half Scottish. Her father is a Scot practicing medicine in America. Her mother is modeled on my sixth great-grandmother, a Powhatan Indian “princess” named Elizabeth by her white father.
It was not uncommon during the War of 1812 for British citizens in America to be held by the U.S. government. They were not “exactly” prisoners, but many were forced to abandon their homes and places of business, especially if they were not naturalized citizens, and move into an area where they could be “watched,” so to speak. Therefore, in my story, Beatrice’s father has been “encouraged” to abandon his surgery practice in Richmond, Virginia, and serve as the physician/surgeon for the American forces at Fort McHenry and Fort Babcock.
Whittaker and Beatrice meet at the fort when he arrives in a wagon filled with prisoners from a battle along the Canadian front. Whit is only at the fort for a matter of weeks before he is traded for an American captain and sent back to England. [Because neither country could withstand the cost of feeding and clothing prisoners, during the War of 1812, the Americans and the British made “equal” trades: an American captain for a British captain, etc.] Those weeks were enough to convince Whit that Beatrice held his heart. Once Whit learns of the British turning their full force on the United States, he races against time and circumstances to reach Beatrice before she is killed at Fort McHenry, a prime target for the British forces in its quest to squash the Americans.
Map of the bombardment on September 13-14, 1814 at Fort McHenry, Maryland. The American forces withstood the British bombardment on Fort McHenry, forcing the British to abandon their land assault on the crucial port city of Baltimore and inspiring the lyrics to the Star Spangled Banner. ~ https://www.battlefields.org/learn/maps/fort-mchenry-september-13-14-1814
What of Fort McHenry’s significance in turning the war?
“And the rockets red glare, the bombs bursting in air” are part of the lyrics of the “Star-Spangled Banner,” the national anthem of the United States. “These few words . . . are some of the most recognizable in American history. . .. Nearly every [American] school child in America knows that Francis Scott Key wrote the anthem as a poem after observing the British bombardment of Fort McHenry in Baltimore Harbor throughout the night of 13 September and into the morning of 14 September 1814. From his vantage point on a British ship, he watched through the rainy night as British guns pummeled the fort. As dawn broke, Key saw a massive American flag defiantly flying over the fort signaling that the British attack had failed. Had the British captured and burned Baltimore, as they had Washington the month before, Philadelphia and New York City would have been the next likely targets.” [Battles that Saved America]
Unbeknown to the British, Baltimore had been preparing for an attack by the British for more than a year. Ordered by the Maryland governor at the time, Levin Winder, the commander of the state militia, Major General Samuel Smith he built a line of defense of the city. Using what funds the federal government provided, along with donations from the local citizenry, Smith managed to place 56 long-range cannons at Fort McHenry. He also ordered the installing of several other lesser-sized forts, Fort Babcock, Fort Covington, and Fort Lookout around the Baltimore Harbor. Fort McHenry also sported a 32-pound cannon battery along the water’s edge, as well as fortifications at Lazaretto Point and other points along the Patapsco Rivers. The Americans had lined up barges across the approach on the Fort Babcock and Fort Covington side. They left the channels open to lure the British fleet into the “kill zone.”
The Americans knew the British were better armed force. Therefore, volunteers dug large trenches east of Baltimore itself. The Baltimore militia drilled regularly and, in many ways, were better prepared than the British. As expected, the British began their attack by land at the North Point Peninsula. The Americans were prepared for the onslaught—squeezing Baltimore between a land and sea advancement. 5,000 infantry troops landed at North Point and marched in an arc toward the city from the east. The British had won an easy battle when they overran Washington City weeks prior. They expected the same at Baltimore. The Battle of North Point began at predawn on September 12, 1814. Major General Robert Ross had three brigades of infantry, plus a company of Royal Sappers and a contingent of Royal Marines at his command, but the battle was not to turn in the favor of the British. [Battle of North Point]
Expecting success from their ground troops, the British Royal Navy moved into place at 0630 on September 13, 1814. The British had 5 bomb ships, a rocket ship, and 10 other war ships in place. “British troops outside Baltimore were probably heartened by the sound, but what they saw must have shocked them. They believed that the day before they had defeated the entirety of the American defenders and expected to march easily into the city. The rising sun revealed the spectacle of 12,000 soldiers facing them. Among the defenders were militia units from the city and surrounding counties; some units came from as far away as Pennsylvania. Furthermore, the Americans possessed 100 cannon, giving the Americans a three-to-one advantage over their British foes. The land between the American and British lines had been largely cleared, offering little in the way of cover of concealment, and the heavy rains from the night before turned much of it into a quagmire. [British] Colonel Brooke sent patrols out to probe for weaknesses in the American lines, but none were discovered. All Brooke could do was wait for support from the heavy naval guns of the British fleet. Before it could get within supporting range of the troops in Baltimore, however, it would have to reduce Fort McHenry.” [Battles that Saved America]
Major George Armistead was the commander at Fort McHenry. He had only a few days’ notice to prepare for the British attack. He had 527 men from the 12th, 36th, and 38th, U. S. Infantry Regiments, along with a contingent of regular and militia artillery units at his disposal. McHenry’s major weakness was its massive munitions structure. It was a brick structure and vulnerable if it took a direct hit from the British. One bomb actually struck the ammunition magazine, but, fortunately, for the Americans, it did not explode. Armistead ordered the 300 barrels of powder redistributed throughout the fort so it would not explode and cause massive destruction to the fort or the loss of lives.
The British began their assault with Congreve rockets, mortars and cannon balls. This went on for hours. Surprisingly though, at the end only 4 men had lost their lives and 24 had been wounded. Few guns were put out of action by the engagement. After some six hours of constant bombing of the fort, Rear Admiral Cockburn, moved his ships closer, thinking they would do better with a close range. However, the 32-pound cannon battery, a French style cannon, forced them to retreat. The French battery was smaller and could not reach the British when so far removed, but up close, they were “deadly,” for they were more accurate than the larger cannons.
“After dark, with the rain falling and their army still menacing the outskirts of Baltimore, the British attempted to bypass the guns of Fort McHenry. Just before midnight on 13 September, boats carrying 1,200 soldiers slid under the guns of Fort McHenry making their way into the middle branch of the Patapsco River. The British obviously intended to mount a ground attack on the rear of the fort. Thinking that they were out of danger from the fort’s guns, they sent up rockets. Perhaps the firing of the rockets was an ill-advised celebration of their having bypassed Fort McHenry, or perhaps it was meant as a signal. In either case, it gave away their position and pinpointed them as targets for the guns at Forts Babcock and Covington. Many of the 1,200 unfortunate British troops were killed or drowned in the ensuing crossfire. Most of those who survived were taken prisoner.” [Battles that Saved America]
Despite having filled the air with close to 1700 rounds of mortar and bombs, on the morning of September 14, 1814, Fort McHenry still stood and was very much intact. Major Armistead ordered the raising of a special American flag over the fort as a signal they would continue to fight. Reportedly, the fort’s musicians played “Yankee Doodle” [“Yankee Doodle”is a well-known American song“, the early versions of which date to before the Revolutionary War. It was sung by British military officers to mock the disheveled, disorganized colonial “Yankees” with whom they served in the French and Indian War. It was also popular among the Americans as a song of defiance, and it mocked the British, who could not defeat George Washington. By 1781, instead of an insult, it became a song of pride.] as the flag was raised. The flag was 42 ft x 30 ft and could be seen easily. The fact the British had thrown all they had at Fort McHenry and it still stood convinced them to withdraw. The war was not to end until December 24, 1814, but, for a moment in time, the Americans could celebrate.
Captain Stanwick’s Bride: Tragic Characters in Classic Lit Series Novel
[Released February 19, 2021]
“Happiness consists more in conveniences of pleasure that occur everyday than in great pieces of good fortune that happen but seldom.” – Benjamin Franklin
Captain Whittaker Stanwick has a successful military career and a respectable home farm in Lancashire. What he does not have in his life is felicity. Therefore, when the opportunity arrives, following his wife’s death, Stanwick sets out to know a bit of happiness, at last—finally to claim a woman who stirs his soul. Yet, he foolishly commits himself to one woman only weeks before he has found a woman, though shunned by her people and his, who touches his heart. Will he deny the strictures placed upon him by society in order learn the secret of happiness is freedom: Freedom to love and freedom to know courage?
Loosely based on Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “The Courtship of Miles Standish” and set against the final battles of the War of 1812, this tale shows the length a man will go to in order to claim a remarkable woman as his.
Today is release day for Captain Stanwick’s Bride: A Tragic Characters in Classic Lit Series Novel. It is loosely based on Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “The Courtship of Myles Standish.” However in this project, we bring the “tragic characters” into the late Georgian through early Victorian era.
Foundation Behind The Tragic Characters in Classic Lit Series
Nearly a dozen authors are involved in this series where the reader will encounter some of their “favorite,” or should I say, “least favorite” characters found in classic literature. The parameters of the project were quite simple. (1) The story must be, at least, 40,000 words. (2) Instead of the original setting for the tale, all the stories in this series take place between the late Georgian period and early Victorian, meaning late 1700s into about 1840. (3) Each novel is based on a different tragic character from a public domain novel, story, or poem.
The idea is to provide the tragic character a “happily ever after.” It does not matter if he/she was the protagonist or the antagonist in the original tale, in these new renderings he/she will be the hero/heroine.
In the series, one could meet fallen heroes who have succumbed to vice, greed, etc. He/She could originally have been detested for what values he accepted, but, in these new tales, he redeems himself: His fate changes. He will find the fortitude to change his stars, learn to accept what cannot be changed, and move beyond the impossible to discover “Love After All.”
Characters Found in “Captain Stanwick’s Bride: Love After All”
This story is inspired by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “The Courtship of Miles Standish.” Truth first, the “hero” and “heroine” of Longfellow’s narrative poem are John Alden and Priscilla Mullins of the Mayflower and Plymouth Rock fame. The Aldens are my tenth great-grandparents through their daughter Rebecca. However, I am well aware that Longfellow’s (who is also related to the Aldens through their daughter Elizabeth) tale is not necessarily based in history. There is no proof that Captain Standish wished to court Priscilla Mullins and sent Alden as his spokesman, with Priscilla supposedly telling Alden, “Why don’t you speak for yourself, John.”
Captain Whittaker Myles Stanwick
Myles Standish has many fine qualities that I attempted to display in my tale, with the exception of Standish’s renowned quick temper. I have moved my story from 1620 America to the War of 1812 as its backdrop. My Captain Whittaker Myles Stanwick (notice the purposeful change in the spelling) is on the Canadian front when the story begins, fighting alongside the Indian Confederation at the Battle of the Thames. The real Myles Standish was a fierce opponent, who stood against the Native Americans encountered by the Plymouth settlers, but he was respected by them, as well. I wanted to show my Captain Stanwick as a leader of men, one displaying reason and fortitude and being deeply devoted to his duties.
Ruth Stanwick
Ruth Standish was Captain Standish’s first wife. Unfortunately, we know little of the woman, including anything of her family, for she died during that first winter for the Pilgrims at Plymouth, Massachusetts. For my purposes, Ruth Stanwick dies at home in Lancashire, England, while my hero is away at war.
Beatrice Spurlock
Standish’s second wife, Barbara, arrived at Plymouth, Massachusetts, on the second ship to land there, the Anne. We also know little about the second Mrs. Standish, not even her maiden name.
For this story, instead of “Barbara,” I chose the name “Beatrice.” Beatrice is based on some of my family. My sixth great-grandmother was actually a Powhatan Indian Princess named “Elizabeth.” In the story, my great-grandmother serves as the basis for Beatrice’s mother, Elizabeth, who, in real life, married a Scot, named Charles Spurlock, and faced much criticism and repudiation until they moved to the backwoods of what was then Virginia and helped found a settlement called “Spurlock Creek.” Even then, “Princess” Elizabeth did not acclimate well, but it is said her daughter proved to be a leader in the community. Also note, in real life, Charles Spurlock from my family tree was not a surgeon, but his grandson was. You will see how those facts play out in the story.
Jonas Alderson and Portia Miller
I did not totally abandon Longfellow’s poem for inspiration. These two are my John Alden and Priscilla Mullins characters. Stanwick has a friendship with Alderson, who is a cooper, a man who makes casks, buckets, barrels, etc., in which to store food stuffs, whale oil, fresh water, and the like, as was the real John Alden.
History shows that Standish and Alden founded the settlement of Duxbury, Massachusetts. They each served in several positions to both the original colony and that particular town.
Duxbury Hall
Myles Standish’s origins are not clear. In his last will and testament, he did claim to be part of the Standish family of Duxbury Hall in Lancashire, England. I did not go so far as to claim the same in my tale, but I do present my Captain Stanwick with a sizable farm in the shire.
FICTION VERSUS NONFICTION
Before anyone chooses to send me a nasty email about how I bent history for my own device, I will remind the reader that this book is FICTION. I did my research, and, I admit, I did NOT find information that said British prisoners were held in tents outside of Fort McHenry, but then again, I found nothing that said they were not. I took artistic liberty, for the setting of Fort McHenry allowed me to place my main characters in a position of uncertainty with the backdrop of one of the last great battles of the War of 1812 raging around them.
Captain Stanwick’s Bride: Tragic Characters in Classic Lit Series Novel
[Arriving February 19, 2021]
“Happiness consists more in conveniences of pleasure that occur everyday than in great pieces of good fortune that happen but seldom.” – Benjamin Franklin
Captain Whittaker Stanwick has a successful military career and a respectable home farm in Lancashire. What he does not have in his life is felicity. Therefore, when the opportunity arrives, following his wife’s death, Stanwick sets out to know a bit of happiness, at last—finally to claim a woman who stirs his soul. Yet, he foolishly commits himself to one woman only weeks before he has found a woman, though shunned by her people and his, who touches his heart. Will he deny the strictures placed upon him by society in order learn the secret of happiness is freedom: Freedom to love and freedom to know courage?
Loosely based on Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “The Courtship of Miles Standish” and set against the final battles of the War of 1812, this tale shows the length a man will go to in order to claim a remarkable woman as his.
Enjoy Whit and Beatrice’s first meetingduring Chapter Two:
15 November 1813
Fort McHenry, Maryland
It had taken his party eighteen days of hard travel to reach Fort McHenry. Whit pitied those who would follow, for the nights, and even some of the days, in the mountains had been bitterly cold, but, thankfully, snow free. He and his men and numerous officers from other units had huddled together, sharing blankets and body heat, even though cleanliness had long since left their persons. They had worn the same clothes for nearly seven weeks, and body odor would make them easy prey for predators in the wild.
“Line up,” an American soldier ordered as Whit and his men stepped gingerly down from the wagons. “Most seriously injured at the front. Sort yerselves out.” The soldier waited while Whit and the other officers arranged some fifty plus British soldiers in some sort of order. At length, the American shouted, “Listen. I shan’t repeat meself. You’ll stand before the clerk presentin’ him yern name, rank, next of kin, and the location of yer home. Then you’ll be seen by the camp doctor—some of you may be sent for treatment. You’ll be given new clothes to wear, meaning shirts, socks, and the like, and then assigned to quarters, meaning the tents you see before you. Some of you will be released immediately in an exchange for arn soldiers. Others will be here until . . . well until yer not.”
* * *
“Your name?” an American sergeant asked.
“Whittaker Stanwick,” he replied.
It had taken more than an hour for him to reach this critical point in the line. They had been brought into the fort itself, three at a time, to be treated by the physician. Like everything else dealing with the military during a war, organization was patchwork at best. Decisions were fluid. He watched as the sergeant scribbled his name into a log book.
“Rank?” The American did not look up from his task.
“Captain.”
“Place of birth?”
“Lancashire, England.”
“Any injuries?”
Whit sighed heavily. He had to remember to break the habit as quickly as possible, for he feared it betrayed his thinking to perfect strangers. He said quickly, “Nothing that a good meal and a bath would not cure. Perhaps some liniment for my knee.”
The sergeant finally looked up long enough to frown his displeasure with Whit’s response. “Speak to Doctor Spurlock for the liniment. Go to the end of the L-shaped hall and wait until they come for you. You’ll see the doc, and he’ll send you on to yer quarters afterwards.” He gestured to the passage behind him.
Whit nodded his understanding and ambled down the long hall, lined with a row of doors on both sides. He had just taken up a stance against the wall where he studied the posted notices when a sound at the other end of the “L” drew his notice. A woman struggled with a soldier. A woman? When was the last time he looked upon a woman not part of the camp whores who followed the army wherever they went. Abandoning his position, despite his ailing knee, Whit took off at a hastened pace to reach the lady. “Halt! None of that!” he declared in his best “captain’s” voice.
The man stiffened, for the passing of perhaps three heartbeats, which was long enough for Whit to step between the American and the woman, shoving her behind him to protect her.
The American attempted to reach around him, but Whit easily blocked the man’s hand. “Ladies are not to be mauled,” he hissed.
“She ain’t being no lady, so tell the Injun to keep her filthy hands off me,” the man protested. “I don’t need none of her potions and elixirs.”
“It is only a bottle of liniment,” the lady responded, anger underlining her tone.
Whittaker eyed the American soldier with disdain and received a like form of contempt in return.
The man pointed an accusing finger at the woman. “Just stay away from me. I know what your type do to the likes of honest men.” The American stalked away, mumbling a series of complaints along the way.
It was then that Whit turned to look upon the woman. Eyes the color of storm clouds met his. A wealth of hair, as dark as coal soot marked with strands of red, wrapped in a tight braid at the nape of her neck, framed an oval-shaped face that displayed both relief and frustration at the same time.
“I beg your pardon, ma’am. I did not mean to handle you so roughly.” Whit thought to offer her a bow, but he knew the Americans did not customarily bow and curtsey, as did those in Great Britain. “I am Captain Stanwick.”
“Miss Spurlock,” she murmured.
“As in Doctor Spurlock?” he questioned. Surely the Americans had not employed a female to treat the prisoners.
“My father,” she responded softly.
Ah, he thought. That makes more sense. Whit tilted his head to the side to study her. “Pardon my forwardness, miss,” he said. “Your accent is laced with bits of the Brit.”
She smiled up at him, doing something to his heart, but he could not name the emotion. “Most Americans maintain the language they learned at their mother’s knees. That is accept those from France, Germany, and various other countries on the Continent.”
Whit frowned. “Yet, you are not part of the majority, miss. Am I correct?”
“In truth, sir, I speak my mother’s language quite fluently.” She sounded as if she were teasing him, and Whit did not know exactly what to think of the young woman. Her eyebrow rose in challenge. “Even though ‘most’ Americans do not understand my mother’s language.”
A new reality arrived. He surmised, “Ah, the private’s reference to ‘Injun.’”
She stiffened as if expecting his disdain, but the woman did not look away from his countenance, indicating her strength of character. Whit found he admired her determination. “Yes, my mother was the equivalent of your British term ‘princess’ of the Powhatan tribe, just as was her mother.” She did not say, just as I am, but the woman’s meaning was implied. “From my last name, you might determine my father is a Scot,” she observed in what appeared to be mild amusement.
“Or someone from Germany,” he countered. Whit discovered his lips twitched in hopes of a smile, which he denied. “I must confess, other than Tecumseh and his braves, and Roundhead and his warriors, I have encountered few Indians upon the American continent. Certainly, none of the Powhatan tribe.” He knew he blushed in awkwardness. “I fear it is very telling of my character that I never bothered to learn more than a few words of Tecumseh’s language.”
Before either of them could say more, a red-headed man in the coat of a gentleman stepped into the hall. “Stanwick.”
“Here,” Whit and Miss Spurlock said together.
Whit presented a nod of farewell to the lady and turned to where the man waited.
“Come in,” the man looked down again to the paper he held in his hand. “Captain Stanwick.”
Whit stepped around the man to enter the small office. Meanwhile, the doctor looked to his daughter. “Are you well, my dear?”
“Perfectly, sir,” Miss Spurlock answered. “Captain Stanwick simply admitted he knew nothing of the Powhatan language.”
“Rightly so,” the doctor announced. “Did you explain to the good captain the Algonquian language of tidewater Virginia has been considered extinct for five and twenty years?”
“Our conversation was interrupted, sir.” Whit could hear the childlike perversity in her tone, and he smiled, despite the inappropriateness of the act.
“No mischief, Beatrice,” the doctor warned as he turned to enter the office, pointedly closing the door behind him and offering a slight bow. “I must apologize, Captain, if my daughter attempted to bam you.”
Whit returned the man’s bow. “Nothing of the sort, Spurlock. I simply stepped in when another refused Miss Spurlock’s offer of liniment.”
“Bloody idiots!” Spurlock growled in frustration. “They distrust me because I am a British subject, who was ‘foolish,’ their word, not mine, enough to marry the most beautiful woman I had ever encountered. They distrust my daughter because they fear all Indian tribes. Think them ‘savages.’”
Whit sat in the chair the man indicated. “Then you have always lived in America? Odd as it may sound, although I know those who founded this country were, customarily British citizens or the descendants of British citizens, when ordered to Canada for the war, I never considered I could be fighting my own. I fought the French on the Continent with Wellington. I suppose I assumed everyone to be of the like of the Frenchies. It is not as if I encountered many French descendants in America, despite your daughter mentioning something to that effect. However, until this journey, I have not been a part of the British forces that occupied strongholds in the ‘States’ proper” He did not know why such an admission was disconcerting, but he found a distinct tightening of his chest as he said the words.
Spurlock commented as he sat, “I suppose you ignored those in French Canada.”
Whit chuckled at his own expense. “Yes, I did not consider the French who aided the Indians across the border as enemies of the British.”
“It sounds as if you have spent more than a few years in the army,” Spurlock observed.
Whit shrugged, embarrassment creeping up the back of his neck. “I should likely have found other employment by now; yet, you know men do not enjoy change. A woman embraces it, but we prefer constancy.”
“My late wife would have disagreed with you,” Spurlock countered. “It was my Elizabeth who did not want our family to live in Great Britain. I should never have taken her and Beatrice there. I foolishly missed my home in the lowlands when I should have realized Elizabeth was all the ‘home’ I required.”
Whit felt continuing this conversation would be too personal. Therefore, he asked, “How did you come to serve at Fort McHenry?”
“I returned to America when Beatrice was but ten. We thought to settle again in New York, but Elizabeth was ill and wanted to spend her final days with her family close at hand; therefore, we came to Virginia. When she passed, we moved, and I opened my office in Richmond. However, with the hostilities, I lost patients who feared to have a British-trained surgeon tending them.” Spurlock scowled in apparent frustration. “I have been assigned to ‘duties’ here by the American government. I serve Fort McHenry and Fort Babcock, an earthen gun battery about two miles removed to the west. It was only recently constructed. The Americans do not exactly trust me, but they require my skills, for physicians and surgeons with experience are in short supply.”
“Your tale is unexpected,” Whit remarked.
“In many ways, I fared better than most of my acquaintances in New York, so it is probably best that my wife and I did not return there. The American Marshal for the District of New York initially required several hundred British citizens to register as such. Later, British heads of households who lived in New York and had applied to be naturalized American citizens, also were required to report to the marshal, a man called Peter Curtenius. The number quickly rose to fifteen hundred.
“As the war progressed, those citizens in the larger towns and cities were removed to the rural areas of the state. They were simply made to quit their homes and their livelihoods for no reason except the matter of their birth. The Army has provided me and my daughter a small cottage along the main road from Baltimore, but, as you can imagine, I spend a great deal of my time in this small office and the surgical tents set up outside the actual fort. I treat both the American wounded and the captured British soldiers.”
“I had no idea,” Whittaker admitted.
Spurlock shrugged his response. “I am grieved to have spoken so bluntly to a stranger. Such is truly not my nature, nor is it a concern of yours. I simply become so annoyed by all these questions of loyalty. I am a surgeon. Dear God, I have sworn to do my best by my patients! I would treat any man who came before me, foe or enemy, with as much care as I would treat my own daughter, if she required it.” He paused briefly to compose himself. “Thank you for tolerating my rant; however, you did not deserve to know my dudgeon.”
“I am not offended, Spurlock,” Whit said in honest tones. “I would prefer to know what to expect. This is all very new to each of us.”
The surgeon nodded his acceptance. “Tell me of your ailments, Stanwick.”
“My knee pains me when I stand too long, and, if I was to speak the truth, my feet are in poor shape,” Whit explained.
Spurlock chuckled, “Most men I see would be happy to own the boots I noted on your feet. They do not realize how uncomfortable Hessians can be. Terrible when they become wet.” He made notations on the paper before him. “Allow me to examine your knee for any major injury, and then we will go from there.”
Although the battle proved to be a success for the British, it came at a high cost, and, in truth, did little to change the course of the war, which was the British hope at the time.
North Point is a peninsula leading to the Chesapeake Bay. It was to serve as the landing point for the British forces following the burning of Washington City, the U. S. Capitol. The idea was to send British troops toward Baltimore, a major port city at the time. In that manner, the British would be in a position to attack Fort McHenry, Fort Babcock, and Fort Covington, all protecting the Chesapeake Bay. A fleet of British warships sat in the bay, and they were to attack Fort McHenry on 13 September 1814. Therefore, the British landed on North Point on September 12. The advance proved to be a limited victory for the British, the battle allowed the Americans to bolster their defences in the region to ultimately thwart the larger British advance into Maryland.
For several months, British naval forces under the command of Rear Admiral George Cockburn had taken up position in the Chesapeake Bay. The idea was to draw the U.S. forces back toward a defense of their Capitol and prevent more attacks along the Canadian front, which is where the Americans had excelled during the war. Along with Cockburn’s efforts, the British employed the talents of Major General Robert Ross, a veteran of the conflict on the Continent with Napoleon, to engage the American forces, which the British considered far inferior to their own. Ross had known success up until the Battle of North Point. He had defeated the hastily assembled forces raised in Maryland and the District of Columbia, and after victory in the Battle of Bladensburg, had burned Washington. After a great storm had put out the fires set in Washington City, he retired to the Royal Navy ships to regroup and make repairs. Afterwards, Ross and his men then made their way to Chesapeake and the strategically valuable port of Baltimore. On 11 September, Ross and forces of close to 5000 men landed at North Point, at the end of the peninsula. From here, they marched hard toward Baltimore. Little did they know, the Americans had been preparing for such a possibility for more than a year. They had built a defensive “wall” around the city, and they laid in wait for the British to appear.
The Canadian Encyclopedia tells us, Major General Samuel Smith, the commander of the Baltimore militia, sent American Brigadier General John Stricker’s 3rd Brigade to defend the city. Stricker prepared his defense, setting up his men between Bear Creek and Bread and Cheese Creek. “With 2 regiments in front with 6 cannon, 2 regiments in support, and 1 in reserve, Sticker made excellent use of the terrain, with the woods providing cover and swamp and muskeg on his left that would make any British flank attack difficult.
“On 12 September, the British stopped for a meal, while Stricker pressed for a skirmish attack to draw them out into a better position. With 250 men, Major Richard Heath raised havoc with the British. Major General Ross, when he heard of the attack, rushed to order his men to hold ground instead of follow until they could get more support for the advance. Before he could command his men in battle, however, Ross was shot in the chest by a sniper’s bullet. He handed command to Colonel Arthur Brooke, and died before the battle had truly begun.
“Brooke wasted no time in preparing his men for an attack on the American position. The first stage was a rain of artillery fire and rockets launched to provide cover for the 44th Regiment to attempt a flank attack. Meanwhile, the main front of British soldiers held the line against a deadly and constant American artillery fire. This included cannon shot made up of broken metal, nails and scraps, a viciously improvised grapeshot. British artillery also hammered the American line. While the casualties grew, the 44th Regiment attacked on the flank, disrupting the American line and forcing them to break up. Stricker reorganized his men and maintained a line to fight muzzle to muzzle with the British for an hour as casualties mounted. As his men broke up, he commanded them in a fighting retreat and returned to Baltimore.”
Unfortunately, for the British, Brooke did not continue to advance. As night fell, he planned to wait until the attack on Fort McHenry in the Baltimore Harbor began. No one foresaw the idea that the Royal Navy would not know success against the fort, which had 32-pound cannon batteries in place. The French made cannons were not as powerful as the ones on the British ships, but they were more accurate. They forced the British to stay, essentially, out of rage of destroying the fort, although the British rained down cannonballs and missiles on the fort for more than 24 straight hours.
The lack of success in destroying Fort McHenry, which, even after all it had sustained, had replaced its customary flag with the one Major George Armistead, the Fort’s commanding officer, had commissioned the previous year. Armistead had desired “to have a flag so large that the British will have no difficulty in seeing it from a distance.” The 17 x 25 foot flag was replaced by the one made by Mary Pickersgill. It was 30 x 42 feet and sported 15 stars and 15 stripes, which was the custom at that time for each state to be represented by a star and a stripe on the flag. The larger flag inspired Francis Scott Key, who watched the bombardment from a ship in the bay, to pen his poem, which would later become “The Star-Spangled Banner.”
The failure of the Royal Navy to bring down Fort McHenry, along with the death of Ross, wore down the resolve of the British forces. Brooke attempted to rally his men for a second push to overtake Baltimore, but when they realized the Americans had amassed more than 20,000 men and 100 pieces of artillery, the idea of losing so many men had Brooke and his troops second guessing their choices. Still, Brooke prepared for a daring night attack against the defences at Loudenslager Hill, but required naval support to quiet the battery of guns at Roger’s Bastion on the flank of his proposed attack. Rear Admiral Cochrane provided the support, but failed to silence the guns, and Brooke called off his attack. He and his remaining men withdrew.
The Battle of North Point was technically a British victory, since they forced the Americans to retreat. But the cost and failure to capitalize on Brooke’s success made it a hollow victory. The British suffered 39 dead, and nearly 300 wounded, compared to the Americans’ 24 dead and 130 wounded.
Captain Stanwick’s Bride: Tragic Characters in Classic Lit Series Novel
[Arriving February 19, 2021]
“Happiness consists more in conveniences of pleasure that occur everyday than in great pieces of good fortune that happen but seldom.” – Benjamin Franklin
Captain Whittaker Stanwick has a successful military career and a respectable home farm in Lancashire. What he does not have in his life is felicity. Therefore, when the opportunity arrives, following his wife’s death, Stanwick sets out to know a bit of happiness, at last—finally to claim a woman who stirs his soul. Yet, he foolishly commits himself to one woman only weeks before he has found a woman, though shunned by her people and his, who touches his heart. Will he deny the strictures placed upon him by society in order learn the secret of happiness is freedom: Freedom to love and freedom to know courage?
Loosely based on Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “The Courtship of Miles Standish” and set against the final battles of the War of 1812, this tale shows the length a man will go to in order to claim a remarkable woman as his.
After their first capture of Napoleon, the British turned their sights on the American front and what was known as the War of 1812. Up until that time, the British had been too busy with Napoleon to address fully the goings on in the United States. However, thinking the war on the Continent was finished, the British had more than enough time and men to do the job proper.
The Smithsonian Magazine tells us, “In the 19th century, the Canadian historian William Kingsford was only half-joking when he commented, ‘The events of the War of 1812 have not been forgotten in England for they have never been known there.'” This was not exactly true. [War of Words] “In the 20th, another Canadian historian remarked that the War of 1812 is ‘an episode in history that makes everybody happy, because everybody interprets it differently…the English are happiest of all, because they don’t even know it happened.’
“The truth is, the British were never happy. In fact, their feelings ranged from disbelief and betrayal at the beginning of the war to outright fury and resentment at the end. They regarded the U.S. protests against Royal Navy impressment of American seamen as exaggerated whining at best, and a transparent pretext for an attempt on Canada at worst. It was widely known that Thomas Jefferson coveted all of North America for the United States. When the war started, he wrote to a friend: ‘The acquisition of Canada this year, as far as the neighborhood of Quebec, will be a mere matter of marching, and will give us experience for the attack of Halifax the next, and the final expulsion of England from the American continent.’ Moreover, British critics interpreted Washington’s willingness to go to war as proof that America only paid lip service to the ideals of freedom, civil rights and constitutional government. In short, the British dismissed the United States as a haven for blackguards and hypocrites.”
Therefore, as the British Navy took up positions along the Eastern seaboard of the United States, on 24 August 1814, British troops marched on Washington City (now referred to as Washington, D. C.).
Prior to the British entrance into the U. S.’s center of government, the Battle of Bladensburg was fought in Maryland on August 24, 1814, and this British victory left Washington City perilously unguarded. The embarrassing defeat of American forces under General William Winder allowed British Army Officer Robert Ross’s men to march into nearby Washington City and set fire to public buildings, including the presidential mansion (later to be rebuilt and renamed as the White House) over August 24th and 25th. This British success, at first, devastated American morale by destroying the very symbols of American democracy and spirit, and the British sought to swiftly end an increasingly unpopular war.
As the American militia left Washington City without protection, the British entered the city with little resistance. However, they found that the American President James Madison and his wife, along with key members of government had fled to safety in Maryland. The British supposed ate the meal meant for those who lived and worked in the Presidential Mansion (now called the “White House”). The British ransacked the mansion and set it on fire.
From History.com, we learn, “According to the White House Historical Society and Dolley [Madison]’s personal letters, President James Madison had left the White House on August 22 to meet with his generals on the battlefield, just as British troops threatened to enter the capitol. Before leaving, he asked his wife Dolley if she had the ‘courage or firmness’ to wait for his intended return the next day. He asked her to gather important state papers and be prepared to abandon the White House at any moment.
“The next day, Dolley and a few servants scanned the horizon with spyglasses waiting for either Madison or the British army to show up. As British troops gathered in the distance, Dolley decided to abandon the couple’s personal belongings and instead saved a full-length portrait of former President George Washington from desecration. Dolley wrote to her sister on the night of August 23 of the difficulty involved in saving the painting. Since the portrait was screwed to the wall, she ordered the frame to be broken and the canvas pulled out and rolled up. Two unidentified ‘gentlemen from New York’ hustled it away for safe-keeping. (Unbeknownst to Dolley the portrait was actually a copy of Gilbert Stuart’s original). The task complete, Dolley wrote ‘and now, dear sister, I must leave this house, or the retreating army will make me a prisoner in it by filling up the road I am directed to take. Dolley left the White House and found her husband at their predetermined meeting place in the middle of a thunderstorm.”
They eventually found refuge for the night in Brookeville, a small town in Montgomery County, Maryland, which is known today as the ”United States’ Capital for a Day.” President Madison spent the night in the house of Caleb Bentley, a Quaker, who lived and worked in Brookeville. Bentley’s house, known today as the Madison House, still stands in Brookeville. [“Brookeville 1814”. Maryland State Archives.]
The sappers and miners of the Corps of Royal Engineers, under Captain Blanshard, were employed in burning the principal buildings. The soldiers burned the president’s house, and fuel was added to the fires that night to ensure they would continue burning into the next day.
The following day, Rear Admiral Cockburn had the building housing the National Intelligencer, a newspaper that regularly criticized Cockburn, destroyed brick-by-brick. He also ordered all “C” type buildings burnt to the ground. The British had hoped to find money in the U.S. Treasury Building, but all they found was old records. The Treasury Building, the Blodget Hotel, which housed the U.S. Patent Office, the U.S. Department of War building, etc. were ordered burned, although some records and buildings were saved.
In order to prevent capture of stores and ammunition, itheir retreat, the Americans had already burned the Washington Navy Yard, which had been founded by Thomas Jefferson. They also burned the 44-gun frigate, USS Columbia, and the 22-gun USS Argus, which were being built at the time.
On August 25, General Ross sent 200 hundred men to secure a fort a Greenleaf Point (later known as Fort McNair), only to discover the fort had been destroyed by the Americans. The British discovered 150 barrels of gunpowder, however. Unfortunately, they tried to destroy the ammunition by dropping the barrels into a well. The powder ignited and 30 British soldiers were killed. Many more were maimed and injured.
Four days after the attack on Washington City began, a sudden, but providential storm (possibly a hurricane) arrived in the area, putting out the fires. It spun off a tornado that made its way down what is now Constitution Avenue, supposably lifting two cannons into the air and dropping them down again several yards away. It also killed several dozen British soldiers and American civilians alike.
The storm drove the British from the city and back to their waiting ships, which had suffered a good deal of damage. “There is some debate regarding the effect of this storm on the occupation. While some assert that the storm forced their retreat, [The War of 1812, Scene 5 “An Act of Nature”, History Channel, 2005] it seems likely from their destructive and arsonous actions before the storm, and their written orders from Cochrane to “destroy and lay waste”, [Cruikshank, Ernest (2006) [1814]. The Documentary History of the campaign upon the Niagara frontier. (Part 1-2). University of Calgary. Archived from the original on May 27, 2011.] that their intention was merely to raze the city, rather than occupy it for an extended period. Whatever the case, the British occupation of Washington lasted only about 26 hours. Despite this, the ‘Storm that saved Washington,’ as it became known, did the opposite according to some. The rains sizzled and cracked the already charred walls of the White House and ripped away at structures the British had no plans to destroy (such as the Patent Office).
“An encounter was noted between Sir George Cockburn and a female resident of Washington.
“Dear God! Is this the weather to which you are accustomed in this infernal country?” enquired the Admiral.
“This is a special interposition of Providence to drive our enemies from our city”, the woman allegedly called out to Cockburn.
“Not so, Madam”, Cockburn retorted. “It is rather to aid your enemies in the destruction of your city”, before riding off on horseback.
“Yet, the British left right after the storm completely unopposed by any American military forces. What makes this event even more serendipitous for the Americans is that, as the Smithsonian reports, there have only been seven other tornadoes recorded in Washington, D.C. in the 204 years since with probably a similar rare occurrence in the years prior to this event.” [Peter Snow. “When Britain Burned the White House” 2012]
Although President Madison and his wife were able to return to Washington only three days later when British troops had moved on, they never again lived in the White House. Madison served the rest of his term residing at the city’s Octagon House. It was not until 1817 that newly elected president James Monroe moved back into the reconstructed building.
Captain Stanwick’s Bride: A Tragic Characters in Classic Lit Series Novel
[Arriving February 19, 2021]
“Happiness consists more in conveniences of pleasure that occur everyday than in great pieces of good fortune that happen but seldom.” – Benjamin Franklin
Captain Whittaker Stanwick has a successful military career and a respectable home farm in Lancashire. What he does not have in his life is felicity. Therefore, when the opportunity arrives, following his wife’s death, Stanwick sets out to know a bit of happiness, at last—finally to claim a woman who stirs his soul. Yet, he foolishly commits himself to one woman only weeks before he has found a woman, though shunned by her people and his, who touches his heart. Will he deny the strictures placed upon him by society in order learn the secret of happiness is freedom: Freedom to love and freedom to know courage?
Loosely based on Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “The Courtship of Miles Standish” and set against the final battles of the War of 1812, this tale shows the length a man will go to in order to claim a remarkable woman as his.
During April of 1814, American representatives were permitted to come to England to continue negotiations with their British counterparts in hopes of coming to a resolution of the issues upon which the War of 1812 were based. However, the attempt proved futile, for, by that time, England had brought Napoleon to heel for the first time, and the British were in no mood to negotiate with the Americans, who they thought to be nothing more than a nuisance.
One can have a look at the newsprints of the day to determine some of what the general populace thought of Lord Castlereagh extending a hand to support the negotiations. The British ministers publicly declared a “wish for peace,” but, privately, they were very wishy-washy, allowing the London Times, which was not a ministerial journal, rather being an independent newspaper, to take its own course and to demand an annihilation of the United States in war. The Times had not previously presented its opinions as such, but, when it came to the United States, they displayed a Federalist position.
Therefore, in addition to a hatred for Napoleon, one formed for the American President James Madison. In truth, although Madison, upon appearances, had a calm demeanor, he was known to rub people the wrong way. The American press often criticized their President, but the Times carried the cries of disdain to new levels. For example, they wrote, “The lunatic ravings of the philosophic statesman of Washington,” (The Times, Feb. 4 and 10, 1814) which could be ranked along side of “his spaniel-like fawning on the Emperor of Russia . . . The most abject of the tools of the deposed tyrant; . . . doubtless he expected to be named Prince of the Potomack or Grand Duke of Virginia.” (The Times, April 23, 1814) With some regularity, the Times spoke of Madison as a liar and an imposter.
The Times went on to say on April 15, 1814: “Let us have no cant of moderation. . . There is no public feeling in the country stronger than that of indignation against the Americans; . . . conduct so base, so loathsome, so hateful . . . As we urged the principle, No peace with Bonaparte! so we must maintain the doctrine of, No peace with James Madison!” Later, on April 27 of the same year, they would continue their campaign of criticism: “Mr. Madison’s dirty, swindling manœuvres in respect to Louisiana and the Floridas remain to be published.”
Then on May 17, 1814, the Times declared, “He must fall a victim to the just vengeance of the Federalists. Let us persevere. Let us unmask the imposter. . . . Who cares about the impudence which they call a doctrine? . . . We shall demand indemnity. . . . We shall insist on the security for Canada . . . We shall inquire a little into the American title to Louisiana; and we shall not permit the base attack on Florida to go unpunished.” [Remember, at the time, British West Florida, which was comprised of the modern U. S. states of Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, and Florida, was a colony of Kingdom of Great Britain from 1763 to 1783, when it was ceded to Spain as part of the Peace of Paris. The territory subsequently became a colony of Spain, parts of which were gradually annexed piecemeal by the United States, beginning in 1810.]
On May 18, the Times called Madison a “liar in the cause of his Corsican master.” The went on to say, “He has lived as an imposter, and he deserves to meet the fate of a traitor. That fate now stares him in the face.”
May 24 saw the smear campaign continuing. “They are struck to the heart with terror for their impending punishment; and oh, may no false liberality, no mistaken lenity, no weak and cowardly policy, interpose to save them from the blow! Strike! chastise the savages, for such they are! . . . With Madison and his perjured set no treaty can be made, for no oath can bind them.”
On June 2, 1814, British ambassadors left England for Ghent to begin negotiations with the U.S. The Times proclaimed, “Our demands may be couched in a single word, — Submission!”
Meanwhile, the Sun, which was never quite as abusive as the Times said of Madison, “that contemptible wretch Madison and his gang . . ..” (The Sun, August 4, 1814)
Yet, the Morning Post, also an independent papter, took up the cause purported by the Times. As early as 18 January 1814, they said to have discovered more damaging evidence against Madison. “. . . a new trait in the character of the American government. Enjoying the reputation of being the most unprincipled and the most contemptible on the face of the earth, they were already known to be impervious to any noble sentiment; but it is only of late that we find them insensible of the shame of defeat even of the brutish quality of becoming beaten into a sense of their unworthiness and their incapacity.” Of Madison himself, the Morning Post (1 February 1814) called the American President “a despot in disguise; a miniature imitation” and tool of Bonaparte.
The Courier, on the other hand, was seen as a “voice” of the government and customarily received information directly from the ministers. On 31 March 1814, with the surrender of Paris, the Ministry decided to turn the full brunt of the British forces on America. The Courier, therefore, on 15 April, announced that 20,000 men were being sent from Europe to the American front. That number of men was equal to two-thirds of Wellington’s forces. The natural assumption was made that such a force would make easy pickings of the Americans.
Beyond the Times’ call for Submission, the Courier listed the terms for agreement as: (1) The right of impressment must be expressly conceded, anything short of this would be unwise and a disappointment. (2) The U. S. were to be interdicted the fisheries. (3) Spain was to be supported in recovering Louisiana.
Captain Stanwick’s Bride: Tragic Characters in Classic Lit Series Novel [Arriving February 19, 2021]
“Happiness consists more in conveniences of pleasure that occur everyday than in great pieces of good fortune that happen but seldom.” – Benjamin Franklin
Captain Whittaker Stanwick has a successful military career and a respectable home farm in Lancashire. What he does not have in his life is felicity. Therefore, when the opportunity arrives, following his wife’s death, Stanwick sets out to know a bit of happiness, at last—finally to claim a woman who stirs his soul. Yet, he foolishly commits himself to one woman only weeks before he has found a woman, though shunned by her people and his, who touches his heart. Will he deny the strictures placed upon him by society in order learn the secret of happiness is freedom: Freedom to love and freedom to know courage?
Loosely based on Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “The Courtship of Miles Standish” and set against the final battles of the War of 1812, this tale shows the length a man will go to in order to claim a remarkable woman as his.
What do we know of the real Myles Standish of Mayflower fame? In truth, not as much as one might think. Much of his life before he traveled to America with the Pilgrims is laced with speculation. For example, where was Standish born? We believe he was born somewhere between 1584 and 1587 and likely in Lancashire, England, (OR) on the Isle of Man. We make the assumption he had at least a basic education, for he signed several documents sent to the Bay and must have been conversant with figures to be colony treasurer. His inventory included several dozen books, valued at £9 3s.; although there were three Bibles and a number of other theological volumes, Standish also owned such titles as Homer’s Iliad and Caesar’s Commentaries.
Those who purport the idea he was from Lancashire point to Nathaniel Morton’s book New England’s Memorial (1669), which lists Lancashire as Standish’s birthplace. Morton claims Standish owned a book from the head of the Rivington Grammar School in Lancashire. He also logically claims that the town that Standish help found and his residence there was named “Duxbury” because Standish was part of the Standishes of Duxbury Hall in Lancashire. According to the tales told, Standish was an heir to a fairly sizable estate in Lancashire, but his lands were lost during the English Civil War, and neither he nor his son Alexander were ever able legally to regain control of the estate.
Yet, his last will and testament speaks of lands “surreptitiously detained” from him. These lands were on the Isle of Man and, at one time, were owned by Thomas Standish, of the Standishes of the Isle of Man.
“In his will, dated 7 March 1655[/6] and proved 4 May 1657, “Myles Standish Senior of Duxburrow” asked that “if I die at Duxburrow my body to be laid as near as conveniently may be to my two daughters Lora Standish my daughter and Mary Standish my daughter-in-law” and bequeathed to “my dear and loving wife Barbara Standish” one-third of his estate after all debts are paid; to “my son Josias Standish upon his marriage” cattle to the value of £40 (if possible), and “that every one of my four sons viz: Allexander Standish, Myles Standish, Josias Standish and Charles Standish may have forty pounds apiece,” to “my eldest son Allexaner … a double share in land,” and “so long as they live single that the whole be in partnership betwixt them”; “my dearly beloved wife Barbara Standish, Allexander Standish, Myles Standish and Josias Standish” to be joint executors; “my loving friends Mr. Timothy Hatherley and Capt. James Cudworth” to be supervisors; to “Marcye Robinson whom I tenderly love for her grandfather’s sake” £3; to “my servant John Irish Jr.” 40s. beyond what is due him by covenant; and to “my son & heir apparent Allexander Standish all my lands as heir apparent by lawful descent in Ormistick, Borsconge, Wrightington, Maudsley, Newburrow, Crawston and the Isle of Man and given to me as right heir by lawful descent but surruptuously [sic] detained from me my great-grandfather being a second or younger brother from the house of Standish of Standish” [MD 3:153-55, citing PCPR 2:1:37-38].” [Miles Standish Biography]
Unfortunately, a document that recorded something of his military career was lost in the 1920s and never stood up for accuracy. We do know he was part of Queen Elizabeth’s army and was stationed in Holland, where he became acquainted with John Robinson and the Pilgrims living in Leiden. The Pilgrims hired him to be their military “captain” and establish the defensive lines to protect the colony against the French, Dutch, and Spanish, as well as the Native Americans.
It was Standish’s job to lead exploratory missions of the area about the Pilgrims’ settlement. He oversaw the construction of the fort at Plymouth and the placement of the cannons brought along for a defense in a “savage” country. Along with his military duties, he was charged with trading expeditions, for the Pilgrims required supplies and food. “He made several trips to England to bring trading goods back and to negotiate with the Merchant Adventurers who had financially sponsored the joint-stock company that funded the Pilgrims’ voyage.” [Mayflower History]
During the first winter at Plymouth, many of the Pilgrims took sick and died, including his wife Ruth, who had traveled to America with him. It is said he assisted in tending many of the sick and won praise for his kindness.
Yet, Standish was not known to be exceptionally kind. He led attacks on the Indians in the Massachusetts Bay area after learning they planned to attack and destroy the Plymouth and the Wessagussett colonies. Those captured were executed in what was termed “heavy-handed” ways.
He was charged with assisting to keep the law of the community. “He was on the receiving end of John Billington’s verbal wrath in 1621 (Billington refused to follow the captain’s orders), and was called a ‘silly boy’ in a letter that was sent out during the Oldham-Lyford scandal of 1624, and was noted for his short stature and for his quick temper. He was sent to arrest Thomas Morton in 1628, for which he received the nickname ‘Captain Shrimp’ from Morton. William Hubbard reported Standish’s temper was like a ‘chimney soon fired.'” [Mayflower History]
17th century image of a man in armor with musket. Myles Standish would have worn similar armor, clothing and used similar weapons to those seen here. ~ http://mayflowerhistory.com/standish-myles
Even so, he held many positions of authority over the years. He married Barbara, a woman who arrived on the second ship to land at Plymouth Rock the Anne, in 1623, Together they helped to found the town of Duxbury. They had seven children:
CHARLES, b. say 1624; living 1627; d. by about 1635.
ALEXANDER, b. say 1626 (died 6 July 1702 “being about 76 years of age” [NEHGR 87:153]); m. (1) by about 1660 Sarah Alden, daughter of JOHN ALDEN; m. (2) by 1689 as her third husband Desire (Doty) (Sherman) Holmes, daughter of EDWARD DOTY [PM 177].
JOHN, b. say 1627; no further record.
MYLES, b. say 1629; m. Boston 19 July 1660 Sarah Winslow, daughter of JOHN WINSLOW [PM 511; BVR 76].
LORA, b. say 1631; d. by 7 March 1655[/6], unm. (from father’s will).
JOSIAS, b. say 1633; m. (1) Marshfield 19 December 1654 Mary Dingley [MarVR l]; m. (2) after 1655 Sarah Allen, daughter of Samuel Allen (in his will of 2 August 1669 Samuel Allen bequeathed to “my son-in-law Josiah Standish” [SPR 6:27]).
CHARLES, b. say 1635; living 7 March 1655[/6] (named in father’s will); no further record.
“On 1 July 1633 through 20 March 1636/7 Captain Standish was allowed to mow land he had formerly mowed [PCR 1:14, 40, 56]. On 4 December 1637 Captain Myles Standish was granted the surplusage of land on “Ducksborrow side” in consideration of the “want of lands he should have had to his proportion [PCR 1:70]. On 2 July 1638 Captain Myles Standish received three hundred acres of uplands [PCR 1:91]. On 1 October 1638 he was granted a garden place at Duxborrow side, which was formerly laid forth for him [PCR 1 :99]. On 4 March 1650/1 “whereas Captain Miles Standish hath been at much trouble and pains, and hath gone sundry journeys into Yarmouth aforesaid in the said town’s business, and likely to have more in that behalf, in respect whereunto the Court have granted unto the said Captain Standish” about forty or fifty acres [PCR 2:164].” [Miles Standish Biography]
Standish lived out his later years in Duxbury, dying in 1656 “after his suffering of much dolorous pain,” apparently from kidney stones.
“Myles Standish, Born Where?”, Mayflower Quarterly 72:133-159.
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Captain Stanwick’s Bride: Tragic Characters in Classic Lit Series Novel[Arriving February 19, 2021]
“Happiness consists more in conveniences of pleasure that occur everyday than in great pieces of good fortune that happen but seldom.” – Benjamin Franklin
Captain Whittaker Stanwick has a successful military career and a respectable home farm in Lancashire. What he does not have in his life is felicity. Therefore, when the opportunity arrives, following his wife’s death, Stanwick sets out to know a bit of happiness, at last—finally to claim a woman who stirs his soul. Yet, he foolishly commits himself to one woman only weeks before he has found a woman, though shunned by her people and his, who touches his heart. Will he deny the strictures placed upon him by society in order learn the secret of happiness is freedom: Freedom to love and freedom to know courage?
Loosely based on Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “The Courtship of Miles Standish” and set against the final battles of the War of 1812, this tale shows the length a man will go to in order to claim a remarkable woman as his.
The Battle of the Thames during the War of 1812 proved to be an important American victory in what was known, at the time, as Upper Canada, for it allowed the Americans to combine its control of the Northwest territory.
General William Henry Harrison, governor of the Indiana Territory and later President of the United States, led an army of 3500 American troops and militia men against a British force of one-hald their size at Moraviantown, along the Thames River in what is now Ontario, Canada. The British forces were joined by an “Indian Confederation” led by the Shawnee war chief Tecumseh. Major General Henry Procter, who had made several mistakes leading up to the battle that greatly influenced the British forces ability to win directed the British response. This fact plays out repeatedly in my new novel, Captain Stanwick’s Bride. The mention of a real person in the book is rare on my part, and I do not mean the tale as a condemnation of Procter’s choices. However, the mistakes made do assist in enriching the tale and are part of the history of The Battle of the Thames. Procter is regarded by many as an inept leader who relied heavily on textbook procedure. His “going by the book” is attributed to his lack of any combat experience before coming to Canada.
According to sources, “Procter was born in Ireland. His father, Richard Procter, was a surgeon in the British Army. Henry Procter began his military career at the age of 18 as an ensign in the 43rd Regiment of Foot in April 1781. He served as a lieutenant in New York in the final months of the American War of Independence. His promotion was slow, probably indicating a lack of means, since commissions were usually obtained by purchase [rather than ability]. Procter became a captain in November 1792. He was promoted to major three years later in May 1795, and on 9 October 1800 became a lieutenant colonel in command of the 1st battalion of the 41st Regiment of Foot. Procter joined his new regiment in Lower Canada in 1802. He served in Canada for the next ten years. Inspecting officers, including Major-General Isaac Brock, noted that Procter’s regiment was ‘very sharp’, indicating a good standard of drill and discipline, and that this was due to Procter’s ‘indefatigable industry.'” [Hyatt, A. M. J. (1987). “Procter, Henry”. In Halpenny, Francess G (ed.). Dictionary of Canadian Biography. VI (1821–1835) (online ed.). University of Toronto Press.]
At the time of the battle the British army was retreating from Fort Malden, Ontario, after Oliver Hazard Perry’s victory in the Battle of Lake Erie in September 1813. The British, faced with the lack of any naval support, abandoned Fort Detroit and retreated back across Burlington Heights in Upper Canada.
Johnson, Col. Richard; TecumsehArtist’s re-creation of the death of Shawnee Chief Tecumseh at the Battle of the Thames, Oct. 5, 1813, lithograph 1833. Library of Congress, Washington, D.C. ~ https://www.britannica.com/event/Battle-of-the-Thames
The British Army, meaning Procter thought to leave their Native American allies behind. Tecumseh considered Procter’s actions and the army’s hasty retreat as an act of cowardice and of betrayal. Although he had one thousand warriors, the Indian Confederation was not as well supplied as were the American forces. Procter’s orders to abandon Fort Detroit very much announced the campaign’s doom. The retreat was poorly organized, with the British leaving their breakfasts on the fire in order to meet Harrison’s forces. Much of their equipment was left behind in their rush inward from Fort Detroit, and, supposedly, they had but one cannon when Harrison arrived to face them. Moreover, the area into which they retreated had a sparse population and not enough food supplies to fee an army of 1800. The British were put on half rations, and morale was low. Tecumseh attempted to rally both his men and the British officers, but to no avail, for an American raiding party managed to capture the last supply boat of ammunition and food rations spelling the British forces’ doom along the Thames River.
ARRIVING FEBRUARY 19, 2021
CAPTAIN STANWICK’S BRIDE: TRAGIC CHARACTERS IN CLASSIC LIT SERIES NOVEL
“Happiness consists more in conveniences of pleasure that occur everyday than in great pieces of good fortune that happen but seldom.” – Benjamin Franklin
Captain Whittaker Stanwick has a successful military career and a respectable home farm in Lancashire. What he does not have in his life is felicity. Therefore, when the opportunity arrives, following his wife’s death, Stanwick sets out to know a bit of happiness, at last—finally to claim a woman who stirs his soul. Yet, he foolishly commits himself to one woman only weeks before he has found a woman, though shunned by her people and his, who touches his heart. Will he deny the strictures placed upon him by society in order learn the secret of happiness is freedom: Freedom to love and freedom to know courage?
Loosely based on Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s “The Courtship of Miles Standish” and set against the final battles of the War of 1812, this tale shows the length a man will go to in order to claim a remarkable woman as his.
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How does this battle play out in Captain Stanwick’s Bride? First, a reader should know this book is one in the Tragic Characters in Classic Lit Series and is inspired by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s narrative poem, “The Courtship of Miles Standish.” In Longfellow’s tale, Captain Miles Standish of Mayflower fame asks his friend, John Alden, to court Miss Priscilla Mullins for him. Standish was the Plymouth Colony’s military leader, and he had lost his wife during the first hard winter at Plymouth, Massachusetts. Priscilla prefers Alden to Standish, meaning the “good captain” does not achieve his Happily Ever After.
The purpose of the series is to take such “tragic characters” and move them into Regency England and provide them a happier ending.
Here is the opening scene that takes place at the Battle of the Thames. Captain Stanwick (purposeful change in the spelling of the name) is serving under Procter.
Chapter One
5 October 1813
Upper Canada, near Chatham
“Hold your ground!” Captain Whittaker Myles Stanwick ordered his men. The British forces of which he was a part had been pursued by some thirty-five hundred American militia and regular army across the Ontario peninsula. This action was certainly not what Stanwick had thought he would be doing when he had joined the British Army some fifteen years prior. He most assuredly had not expected to be serving shoulder-to-shoulder with allies from a confederation of Indian tribes, lead by a Shawnee war chief by the name of Tecumseh and a Wyandott war chief called Roundhead.
Stankwick instinctively knew when the British had “drawn cuts” regarding the upcoming battle, the British had chosen the shorter straw. Therefore, he had decided, if push came to shove, he would order his men to surrender rather than to view another massacre.
“Keep your eyes trained on the road,” he instructed.
From his vantage point, Whit studied where Chief Tecumseh made his way along the line of British soldiers, shaking hands with each British officer. Even so, Stanwick wondered how loyal their Indian colleagues would be once this war of American aggression was over. The Shawnee warrior chief had worked miracles in organizing an Indian confederacy, but, essentially, the Indians had only agreed to join forces with the British so they could stop white settlements in what was called the “Northwest Territory.” Whit wondered what would happen if the British interests prevailed in this matter. Would the tribes expect the British to walk away from such vast resources? They would be sorely disappointed if that were the case.
He sighed heavily, a habit of which he came been made aware of late. He was not certain he could break the gesture as long as he was asked to follow the orders of an incompetent, as he was just now.
His country had not sent him to the Canadian front to be a diplomat: Rather he was a soldier, the only occupation he had known for more than a decade. “I am the fighter of battles, a lover and wooer of dangers,” he thought. He owned a farm, had inherited it from his father, but he had been a soldier since he was nineteen years of age. He swallowed another deep breath as he took in the scene forming before his eyes. Whit supposed it was important for Tecumseh to boost morale, but even with one thousand Indian warriors and six hundred British troops, their alliance was outnumbered more than two to one.
He reflected on his first impressions of the Indian tribes when he had arrived in Canada. The Indian encampment, which was pitched on the edge of a meadow, between the lake and the forest, set close to one of the villages in this part of Upper Canada. Women worked by the tents, and the warriors, some of them quite frightening to behold, sat beside a fire and smoked and talked together. Odd as it would sound to some of his fellow Englishman, Whit thought the scene, though primitive in its own right, could have been found in the history of England. He knew something of the Carvetii, the Brigantes, and the Novantae who ruled parts of Celtic Britain, and these so-called “savages” reminded him of those. Braves of the tribes were those who marched with the British Army. Some were quite spectacular specimens: gigantic in stature. Whit’s father would have called them “huge as Goliath of Gath, or the terrible Og, king of Bashan.” One he recognized on sight was called Pecksout, who worked his knives in scabbards of wampum suspended about his neck. Two-edged trenchant knives, with points as sharp as a needle.
“Might have had a chance,” he murmured, “if Procter had held Detroit.” In truth, Whit possessed little respect for Major General Henry Procter. “Untenable position,” he grumbled. If he could prevent it, he would not see his men shot down to protect Procter’s reputation.
Whit was well aware, despite what his superiors declared, the British loss of Detroit had pronounced their doom. William Henry Harrison’s forces and the American navy had, most assuredly, outmaneuvered Procter. The British position had depended upon maintaining command of Lake Erie, for the area, which they now occupied was sparsely populated, with insufficient crops and livestock to feed Procter’s troops, the British sailors on the lake, and the Indians and their families gathered at Amherstburg under Tecumseh. Supplies could only reach them by ship, and with the Americans in control of the lake and its tributaries, Stanwick and his men were quite literally starving.
“Of all the idiocy,” Whit continued to grumble. “One small oversight after another. Now we are ducks lined up for the easy shot.”
Previously, British Commander Robert Barclay had failed to maintain the defense of Preque Isle while British forces received supplies. Therefore, the Americans had had a relatively easy means to capture control of the lake, leading to their current situation.
“One demme mistake after another,” he had told the junior officers serving under him. “Could not believe Procter meant to defend Fort Amhertsburg without guns.” When they had reached the fortification, thinking they had achieved a strong defense against their enemy, they had learned the fort’s guns had been removed and mounted on Robert Heriot Barclay’s ships. “Guns the British commander of the lake had failed to use against the Americans.” The irony of their situation drove Whit a bit crazy with disgust.
“You do not believe we will know success?” Lieutenant Persile had asked in a shaky voice.
On this particular morning, shortly after daybreak, Procter had ordered Stanwick and the other troops to abandon their half-cooked meals and retreat another two miles to form a line of defense with only a single six-pounder cannon available to them. Procter planned to trap Harrison on the banks of the Thames to drive the Americans off the road with cannon fire, but the fool had made no attempt to fortify their position by creating an abatis with fallen trees or throwing up earthworks. Even a halfwit, and Stanwick was no dolt, would realize the area they were to defend would prove no obstacle to the Americans. Major General Harrison, an artful strategist, had brought together a group of men who had proven themselves excellent horsemen and willful fighters.
“I suppose anything is possible,” Whit told Persile. “Stranger things have happened. All we can do is our best. God will decide the rest.”
(For those who think many Jane Austen fan fiction writers do not study the author’s work, I give you this post from Lelia Eye on combing Austen’s words in order to delineate characterization. It first appeared on the Austen Authors’ blog on 19 November 2020. Enjoy!)
I would first like to apologize for the length of this post. I hemmed and hawed over how to handle a character study of Kitty Bennet before finally deciding to aim for comprehensive and include every mention of her in Pride and Prejudice in this blog post. This comes with a sort of caveat, though. There are some instances in which she is lumped in with a group of others, and I am not including those sorts of indirect references unless it seems necessary for character explanation. In addition, it’s always possible that I missed an instance where her name was not specifically given. But I can confidently say that I have collected most of the references to Kitty.
The name “Kitty” appears seventy-one times in Pride and Prejudice. Of course, you also have to look for “Catherine.” When you exclude the name “Lady Catherine,” you will find that the name “Catherine” occurs ten times in Pride and Prejudice. Interestingly, seven of those times is in conjunction with Lydia’s name (“Catherine and Lydia”), one instance occurs with Elizabeth’s name (“Elizabeth and Catherine”), and two instances occur in which the name is not used with a sister’s name. Of note, there are also seven occurrences of “Kitty and Lydia” to be found, which only further solidifies Kitty’s connection to Lydia. Oddly, there is no occurrence of “Miss Kitty” or “Miss Catherine” to be found, which makes it a bit difficult when one tries to determine what non-family members call her. I am inclined to think that new acquaintances call her “Miss Catherine,” but I would be interested in hearing your thoughts! I haven’t especially found a rhyme or reason for those ten mentions of “Catherine” – unless it’s just to emphasize that “Kitty” is a nickname.
I have long held an interest in Kitty due to the possibilities inherent in her character. My general impression of her has always been that she is a muted Lydia – but one for whom there is ultimately some hope. It has always seemed strange to me that she is older than Lydia, yet Lydia is the leader. Perhaps it can be attributed to Mrs. Bennet’s treatment of Lydia. Since Lydia is the baby of the family, that may be why Mrs. Bennet favors her. Kitty’s options for a sister to “buddy up” with include her two intelligent older sisters (who are already best buds), the moralizing Mary, or the headstrong but fun-seeking Lydia. I suppose she cannot be entirely blamed for wanting to have fun!
Her parents certainly do not think especially well of her:
“They have none of them much to recommend them,” replied [Mr. Bennet]; “they are all silly and ignorant like other girls; but Lizzy has something more of quickness than her sisters.”
Mrs. Bennet deigned not to make any reply, but, unable to contain herself, began scolding one of her daughters. “Don’t keep coughing so, Kitty, for Heaven’s sake! Have a little compassion on my nerves. You tear them to pieces.” “Kitty has no discretion in her coughs,” said her father; “she times them ill.” “I do not cough for my own amusement,” replied Kitty fretfully. “When is your next ball to be, Lizzy?”
“Now, Kitty, you may cough as much as you choose,” said Mr. Bennet; and, as he spoke, he left the room, fatigued with the raptures of his wife.
[Mrs. Bennet speaking about Jane and disparaging her other daughters:] “I am sure,” she added, “if it was not for such good friends I do not know what would become of her, for she is very ill indeed, and suffers a vast deal, though with the greatest patience in the world, which is always the way with her, for she has, without exception, the sweetest temper I have ever met with. I often tell my other girls they are nothing to her. . . . “
But their father, though very laconic in his expressions of pleasure, was really glad to see [Jane and Elizabeth]; he had felt their importance in the family circle. The evening conversation, when they were all assembled, had lost much of its animation, and almost all its sense by the absence of Jane and Elizabeth.
[Mr. Bennet to Elizabeth:] “Do not make yourself uneasy, my love. Wherever you and Jane are known you must be respected and valued; and you will not appear to less advantage for having a couple of—or I may say, three—very silly sisters . . . .”
“We will be down as soon as we can,” said Jane; “but I dare say Kitty is forwarder than either of us, for she went up stairs half an hour ago.” “Oh! hang Kitty! what has she to do with it? Come be quick, be quick! Where is your sash, my dear?”
Happy for all her maternal feelings was the day on which Mrs. Bennet got rid of her two most deserving daughters. [Note: Kitty isn’t one of them.]
Unsurprisingly, Mr. Bingley’s sisters do not think well of Kitty either:
Miss Bennet’s pleasing manners grew on the goodwill of Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley; and though the mother was found to be intolerable, and the younger sisters not worth speaking to, a wish of being better acquainted with them was expressed towards the two eldest.
“I hope,” said [Mrs. Bingley to Mr. Darcy], as they were walking together in the shrubbery the next day, “you will give your mother-in-law a few hints, when this desirable event takes place, as to the advantage of holding her tongue; and if you can compass it, do cure the younger girls of running after officers. . . .”
Darcy naturally has his own protests about Kitty:
“ . . . The situation of your mother’s family, though objectionable, was nothing in comparison to that total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly betrayed by herself, by your three younger sisters, and occasionally even by your father.”
The compliment to herself and her sister was not unfelt. It soothed, but it could not console her for the contempt which had thus been self-attracted by the rest of her family; and as she considered that Jane’s disappointment had in fact been the work of her nearest relations, and reflected how materially the credit of both must be hurt by such impropriety of conduct, she felt depressed beyond anything she had ever known before.
Even Elizabeth does not seem especially thrilled about hanging out with her younger sisters in the absence of Jane:
Absence had increased her desire of seeing Charlotte again, and weakened her disgust of Mr. Collins. There was novelty in the scheme, and as, with such a mother and such uncompanionable sisters, home could not be faultless, a little change was not unwelcome for its own sake.
However, it may be said that Elizabeth does seem to feel a bit for Kitty and Lydia:
“ . . . Kitty and Lydia take [Mr. Wickham’s] defection much more to heart than I do. They are young in the ways of the world, and not yet open to the mortifying conviction that handsome young men must have something to live on as well as the plain.”
As for Kitty’s preferences in a general sense, she seems to be more concerned with dancing than with the characters of her dance partners (and especially concerned with the notion of having a ball):
Mary had heard herself mentioned to Miss Bingley as the most accomplished girl in the neighbourhood; and Catherine and Lydia had been fortunate enough never to be without partners, which was all that they had yet learnt to care for at a ball.
[In this passage, Lydia is to step forward to speak, but it is after consultation with Kitty:] . . . Mrs. Bennet was satisfied, and soon afterwards ordered her carriage. Upon this signal, the youngest of her daughters put herself forward. The two girls had been whispering to each other during the whole visit, and the result of it was, that the youngest should tax Mr. Bingley with having promised on his first coming into the country to give a ball at Netherfield.
The happiness anticipated by Catherine and Lydia depended less on any single event, or any particular person, for though they each, like Elizabeth, meant to dance half the evening with Mr. Wickham, he was by no means the only partner who could satisfy them, and a ball was, at any rate, a ball.
If there had not been a Netherfield ball to prepare for and talk of, the younger Miss Bennets would have been in a very pitiable state at this time, for from the day of the invitation, to the day of the ball, there was such a succession of rain as prevented their walking to Meryton once. No aunt, no officers, no news could be sought after—the very shoe-roses for Netherfield were got by proxy. Even Elizabeth might have found some trial of her patience in weather which totally suspended the improvement of her acquaintance with Mr. Wickham; and nothing less than a dance on Tuesday, could have made such a Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday endurable to Kitty and Lydia.
Wickham, Lydia, were all forgotten. Jane was beyond competition her favourite child. At that moment, she cared for no other. Her younger sisters soon began to make interest with her for objects of happiness which she might in future be able to dispense. Mary petitioned for the use of the library at Netherfield; and Kitty begged very hard for a few balls there every winter.
Kitty is also highly concerned with obtaining gossip, particularly as pertains to the milia regiment (but not limited to it):
Catherine and Lydia had information for them of a different sort. Much had been done and much had been said in the regiment since the preceding Wednesday; several of the officers had dined lately with their uncle, a private had been flogged, and it had actually been hinted that Colonel Forster was going to be married.
Charlotte hardly had time to answer, before they were joined by Kitty, who came to tell the same news; and no sooner had they entered the breakfast-room, where Mrs. Bennet was alone, than she likewise began on the subject, calling on Miss Lucas for her compassion, and entreating her to persuade her friend Lizzy to comply with the wishes of all her family.
Kitty and Lydia were far from envying Miss Lucas, for Mr. Collins was only a clergyman; and it affected them in no other way than as a piece of news to spread at Meryton.
The village of Longbourn was only one mile from Meryton; a most convenient distance for the young ladies, who were usually tempted thither three or four times a week, to pay their duty to their aunt and to a milliner’s shop just over the way. The two youngest of the family, Catherine and Lydia, were particularly frequent in these attentions; their minds were more vacant than their sisters’, and when nothing better offered, a walk to Meryton was necessary to amuse their morning hours and furnish conversation for the evening; and however bare of news the country in general might be, they always contrived to learn some from their aunt. At present, indeed, they were well supplied both with news and happiness by the recent arrival of a militia regiment in the neighbourhood; it was to remain the whole winter, and Meryton was the headquarters. Their visits to Mrs. Phillips were now productive of the most interesting intelligence. Every day added something to their knowledge of the officers’ names and connections. Their lodgings were not long a secret, and at length they began to know the officers themselves. Mr. Phillips visited them all, and this opened to his nieces a store of felicity unknown before. They could talk of nothing but officers; and Mr. Bingley’s large fortune, the mention of which gave animation to their mother, was worthless in their eyes when opposed to the regimentals of an ensign. After listening one morning to their effusions on this subject, Mr. Bennet coolly observed: “From all that I can collect by your manner of talking, you must be two of the silliest girls in the country. I have suspected it some time, but I am now convinced.” Catherine was disconcerted, and made no answer; but Lydia, with perfect indifference, continued to express her admiration of Captain Carter, and her hope of seeing him in the course of the day, as he was going the next morning to London.
What I find interesting with regard to Mr. Bennet’s comment above concerning Kitty and Lydia’s silliness is Mrs. Bennet’s subsequent defense of her children, as is seen below (note: I think her reference to their age is not truly unreasonable, nor is her astonishment that Mr. Bennet would disparage his own children):
“I am astonished, my dear,” said Mrs. Bennet, “that you should be so ready to think your own children silly. If I wished to think slightingly of anybody’s children, it should not be of my own, however.” “If my children are silly, I must hope to be always sensible of it.” “Yes—but as it happens, they are all of them very clever.” “This is the only point, I flatter myself, on which we do not agree. I had hoped that our sentiments coincided in every particular, but I must so far differ from you as to think our two youngest daughters uncommonly foolish.” “My dear Mr. Bennet, you must not expect such girls to have the sense of their father and mother. When they get to our age, I dare say they will not think about officers any more than we do. . . .”
Here is further evidence of Kitty’s redcoat obsession (with a strong emphasis on Mr. Wickham when he appears as a new acquaintance, which trumps even the other redcoats):
In Meryton they parted; the two youngest repaired to the lodgings of one of the officers’ wives, and Elizabeth continued her walk alone . . . .
To Catherine and Lydia, neither the letter nor its writer were in any degree interesting. It was next to impossible that their cousin should come in a scarlet coat, and it was now some weeks since they had received pleasure from the society of a man in any other colour.
All were struck with the stranger’s air, all wondered who he could be; and Kitty and Lydia, determined if possible to find out, led the way across the street, under pretense of wanting something in an opposite shop, and fortunately had just gained the pavement when the two gentlemen, turning back, had reached the same spot. Mr. Denny addressed them directly, and entreated permission to introduce his friend, Mr. Wickham, who had returned with him the day before from town, and he was happy to say had accepted a commission in their corps. This was exactly as it should be; for the young man wanted only regimentals to make him completely charming.
She had been watching him the last hour, she said, as he walked up and down the street, and had Mr. Wickham appeared, Kitty and Lydia would certainly have continued the occupation, but unluckily no one passed windows now except a few of the officers, who, in comparison with the stranger, were become “stupid, disagreeable fellows.”
After breakfast, the girls walked to Meryton to inquire if Mr. Wickham were returned, and to lament over his absence from the Netherfield ball. He joined them on their entering the town, and attended them to their aunt’s where his regret and vexation, and the concern of everybody, was well talked over.
In the afternoon Lydia was urgent with the rest of the girls to walk to Meryton, and to see how everybody went on; but Elizabeth steadily opposed the scheme. It should not be said that the Miss Bennets could not be at home half a day before they were in pursuit of the officers.
[When the redcoats leave:] The elder Miss Bennets alone were still able to eat, drink, and sleep, and pursue the usual course of their employments. Very frequently were they reproached for this insensibility by Kitty and Lydia, whose own misery was extreme, and who could not comprehend such hard-heartedness in any of the family. “Good Heaven! what is to become of us? What are we to do?” would they often exclaim in the bitterness of woe. “How can you be smiling so, Lizzy?” Their affectionate mother shared all their grief; she remembered what she had herself endured on a similar occasion, five-and-twenty years ago. “I am sure,” said she, “I cried for two days together when Colonel Miller’s regiment went away. I thought I should have broken my heart.” “I am sure I shall break mine,” said Lydia. “If one could but go to Brighton!” observed Mrs. Bennet. “Oh, yes!—if one could but go to Brighton! But papa is so disagreeable.” “A little sea-bathing would set me up forever.” “And my aunt Phillips is sure it would do me a great deal of good,” added Kitty. Such were the kind of lamentations resounding perpetually through Longbourn House.
When Elizabeth had rejoiced over Wickham’s departure she found little other cause for satisfaction in the loss of the regiment. Their parties abroad were less varied than before, and at home she had a mother and sister whose constant repinings at the dullness of everything around them threw a real gloom over their domestic circle; and, though Kitty might in time regain her natural degree of sense, since the disturbers of her brain were removed, her other sister, from whose disposition greater evil might be apprehended, was likely to be hardened in all her folly and assurance by a situation of such double danger as a watering-place and a camp.
Her tour to the Lakes was now the object of her happiest thoughts; it was her best consolation for all the uncomfortable hours which the discontentedness of her mother and Kitty made inevitable; and could she have included Jane in the scheme, every part of it would have been perfect.
I think part of what hurts Kitty’s development into an adult is the lack of expectations for just about anything, whether it is helping out with matters related to food (which Charlotte has to do) or trying to become involved in some “accomplishments” to preoccupy herself:
“Did Charlotte dine with you?” “No, she would go home. I fancy she was wanted about the mince-pies. For my part, Mr. Bingley, I always keep servants that can do their own work; my daughters are brought up very differently. . . .”
The dinner too in its turn was highly admired; and he begged to know to which of his fair cousins the excellency of its cooking was owing. But he was set right there by Mrs. Bennet, who assured him with some asperity that they were very well able to keep a good cook, and that her daughters had nothing to do in the kitchen.
“Oh! then—some time or other we shall be happy to hear you. Our instrument is a capital one, probably superior to——You shall try it some day. Do your sisters play and sing?” “One of them does.”
“Why did not you all learn? You ought all to have learned. The Miss Webbs all play, and their father has not so good an income as yours. Do you draw?” “No, not at all.” “What, none of you?” “Not one.”
“Compared with some families, I believe we were; but such of us as wished to learn never wanted the means. We were always encouraged to read, and had all the masters that were necessary. Those who chose to be idle, certainly might.”
Only Mr. Collins seems to really have anything good to say about Kitty, and even then, it is indirect:
He had not been long seated before he complimented Mrs. Bennet on having so fine a family of daughters; said he had heard much of their beauty, but that in this instance fame had fallen short of the truth; and added, that he did not doubt her seeing them all in due time disposed of in marriage.
Kitty certainly has no good feelings toward Mr. Collins (which is of course justified):
Mr. Collins readily assented, and a book was produced; but, on beholding it (for everything announced it to be from a circulating library), he started back, and begging pardon, protested that he never read novels. Kitty stared at him, and Lydia exclaimed.
In pompous nothings on his side, and civil assents on that of his cousins, their time passed till they entered Meryton. The attention of the younger ones was then no longer to be gained by him. Their eyes were immediately wandering up in the street in quest of the officers, and nothing less than a very smart bonnet indeed, or a really new muslin in a shop window, could recall them.
Though Elizabeth is our heroine, it may have been better if Kitty and Lydia had been restricted from being “out” in spite of what Elizabeth thinks:
“All! What, all five out at once? Very odd! And you only the second. The younger ones out before the elder ones are married! Your younger sisters must be very young?” “Yes, my youngest is not sixteen. Perhaps she is full young to be much in company. But really, ma’am, I think it would be very hard upon younger sisters, that they should not have their share of society and amusement, because the elder may not have the means or inclination to marry early. The last-born has as good a right to the pleasures of youth at the first. And to be kept back on such a motive! I think it would not be very likely to promote sisterly affection or delicacy of mind.”
One thing that is to be said about Kitty is that she does not push things as far into the realm of “improper” as Lydia does:
Elizabeth passed quietly out of the room, Jane and Kitty followed, but Lydia stood her ground, determined to hear all she could; and Charlotte, detained first by the civility of Mr. Collins, whose inquiries after herself and all her family were very minute, and then by a little curiosity, satisfied herself with walking to the window and pretending not to hear.
Elizabeth was sitting with her mother and sisters, reflecting on what she had heard, and doubting whether she was authorised to mention it, when Sir William Lucas himself appeared, sent by his daughter, to announce her engagement to the family. With many compliments to them, and much self-gratulation on the prospect of a connection between the houses, he unfolded the matter—to an audience not merely wondering, but incredulous; for Mrs. Bennet, with more perseverance than politeness, protested he must be entirely mistaken; and Lydia, always unguarded and often uncivil, boisterously exclaimed: “Good Lord! Sir William, how can you tell such a story? Do not you know that Mr. Collins wants to marry Lizzy?” Nothing less than the complaisance of a courtier could have borne without anger such treatment; but Sir William’s good breeding carried him through it all; and though he begged leave to be positive as to the truth of his information, he listened to all their impertinence with the most forbearing courtesy. Elizabeth, feeling it incumbent on her to relieve him from so unpleasant a situation, now put herself forward to confirm his account, by mentioning her prior knowledge of it from Charlotte herself; and endeavoured to put a stop to the exclamations of her mother and sisters by the earnestness of her congratulations to Sir William, in which she was readily joined by Jane, and by making a variety of remarks on the happiness that might be expected from the match, the excellent character of Mr. Collins, and the convenient distance of Hunsford from London.
These are some of the best descriptions of Kitty (and Lydia), if a bit scathing:
Her father, contented with laughing at them, would never exert himself to restrain the wild giddiness of his youngest daughters; and her mother, with manners so far from right herself, was entirely insensible of the evil. Elizabeth had frequently united with Jane in an endeavour to check the imprudence of Catherine and Lydia; but while they were supported by their mother’s indulgence, what chance could there be of improvement? Catherine, weak-spirited, irritable, and completely under Lydia’s guidance, had been always affronted by their advice; and Lydia, self-willed and careless, would scarcely give them a hearing. They were ignorant, idle, and vain. While there was an officer in Meryton, they would flirt with him; and while Meryton was within a walk of Longbourn, they would be going there forever.
[Elizabeth talking first about Lydia:] “ . . . Her character will be fixed, and she will, at sixteen, be the most determined flirt that ever made herself or her family ridiculous; a flirt, too, in the worst and meanest degree of flirtation; without any attraction beyond youth and a tolerable person; and, from the ignorance and emptiness of her mind, wholly unable to ward off any portion of that universal contempt which her rage for admiration will excite. In this danger Kitty also is comprehended. She will follow wherever Lydia leads. Vain, ignorant, idle, and absolutely uncontrolled! Oh! my dear father, can you suppose it possible that they will not be censured and despised wherever they are known, and that their sisters will not be often involved in the disgrace?
I think this is one of the silliest showings of Lydia and Kitty–acting as though they are going to be giving their sisters a huge treat, only to have to borrow money because they just spent it all shopping (and then later causing the carriage to be crammed because they purchased too much):
[A]s they drew near the appointed inn where Mr. Bennet’s carriage was to meet them, they quickly perceived, in token of the coachman’s punctuality, both Kitty and Lydia looking out of a dining-room upstairs. These two girls had been above an hour in the place, happily employed in visiting an opposite milliner, watching the sentinel on guard, and dressing a salad and cucumber. After welcoming their sisters, they triumphantly displayed a table set out with such cold meat as an inn larder usually affords, exclaiming, “Is not this nice? Is not this an agreeable surprise?” “And we mean to treat you all,” added Lydia, “but you must lend us the money, for we have just spent ours at the shop out there.”
As soon as all had ate, and the elder ones paid, the carriage was ordered; and after some contrivance, the whole party, with all their boxes, work-bags, and parcels, and the unwelcome addition of Kitty’s and Lydia’s purchases, were seated in it.
Of course, there are other silly things done by Lydia and Kitty, as described in the below instances by Lydia:
“ . . . Dear me! we had such a good piece of fun the other day at Colonel Forster’s. Kitty and me were to spend the day there, and Mrs. Forster promised to have a little dance in the evening; (by the bye, Mrs. Forster and me are such friends!) and so she asked the two Harringtons to come, but Harriet was ill, and so Pen was forced to come by herself; and then, what do you think we did? We dressed up Chamberlayne in woman’s clothes on purpose to pass for a lady, only think what fun! Not a soul knew of it, but Colonel and Mrs. Forster, and Kitty and me, except my aunt, for we were forced to borrow one of her gowns; and you cannot imagine how well he looked! When Denny, and Wickham, and Pratt, and two or three more of the men came in, they did not know him in the least. Lord! how I laughed! and so did Mrs. Forster. I thought I should have died. And that made the men suspect something, and then they soon found out what was the matter.” With such kinds of histories of their parties and good jokes, did Lydia, assisted by Kitty’s hints and additions, endeavour to amuse her companions all the way to Longbourn.
“Oh! Mary,” said she, “I wish you had gone with us, for we had such fun! As we went along, Kitty and I drew up the blinds, and pretended there was nobody in the coach; and I should have gone so all the way, if Kitty had not been sick; and when we got to the George, I do think we behaved very handsomely, for we treated the other three with the nicest cold luncheon in the world, and if you would have gone, we would have treated you too. And then when we came away it was such fun! I thought we never should have got into the coach. I was ready to die of laughter. And then we were so merry all the way home! we talked and laughed so loud, that anybody might have heard us ten miles off!”
Whenever Lydia has something that Kitty does not, it makes Kitty become rather childish:
The rapture of Lydia on this occasion, her adoration of Mrs. Forster, the delight of Mrs. Bennet, and the mortification of Kitty, are scarcely to be described. Wholly inattentive to her sister’s feelings, Lydia flew about the house in restless ecstasy, calling for everyone’s congratulations, and laughing and talking with more violence than ever; whilst the luckless Kitty continued in the parlour repined at her fate in terms as unreasonable as her accent was peevish. “I cannot see why Mrs. Forster should not ask me as well as Lydia,” said she, “Though I am not her particular friend. I have just as much right to be asked as she has, and more too, for I am two years older.” In vain did Elizabeth attempt to make her reasonable, and Jane to make her resigned.
Kitty was the only one who shed tears [when Lydia left for Brighton]; but she did weep from vexation and envy. Mrs. Bennet was diffuse in her good wishes for the felicity of her daughter, and impressive in her injunctions that she should not miss the opportunity of enjoying herself as much as possible—advice which there was every reason to believe would be well attended to; and in the clamorous happiness of Lydia herself in bidding farewell, the more gentle adieus of her sisters were uttered without being heard.
But Kitty does enjoy being part of Lydia’s “secrets,” even to her detriment:
“Since writing the above, dearest Lizzy, something has occurred of a most unexpected and serious nature; but I am afraid of alarming you—be assured that we are all well. What I have to say relates to poor Lydia. An express came at twelve last night, just as we were all gone to bed, from Colonel Forster, to inform us that she was gone off to Scotland with one of his officers; to own the truth, with Wickham! Imagine our surprise. To Kitty, however, it does not seem so wholly unexpected. I am very, very sorry. So imprudent a match on both sides! . . .”
“ . . . And as to my father, I never in my life saw him so affected. Poor Kitty has anger for having concealed their attachment; but as it was a matter of confidence, one cannot wonder. . . .”
” . . . Kitty then owned, with a very natural triumph on knowing more than the rest of us, that in Lydia’s last letter she had prepared her for such a step. She had known, it seems, of their being in love with each other, many weeks.” “But not before they went to Brighton?” “No, I believe not.”
“Do you suppose them to be in London?” “Yes; where else can they be so well concealed?” “And Lydia used to want to go to London,” added Kitty. “She is happy then,” said her father drily; “and her residence there will probably be of some duration.”
Without Lydia around, Kitty seems less confident and a bit fearful, but she also seems to start to come out from under Lydia’s shadow a bit:
They lagged behind, while Elizabeth, Kitty, and Darcy were to entertain each other. Very little was said by either; Kitty was too much afraid of him to talk; Elizabeth was secretly forming a desperate resolution; and perhaps he might be doing the same. They walked towards the Lucases, because Kitty wished to call upon Maria; and as Elizabeth saw no occasion for making it a general concern, when Kitty left them she went boldly on with him alone.
“I advise Mr. Darcy, and Lizzy, and Kitty,” said Mrs. Bennet, “to walk to Oakham Mount this morning. It is a nice long walk, and Mr. Darcy has never seen the view.” “It may do very well for the others,” replied Mr. Bingley; “but I am sure it will be too much for Kitty. Won’t it, Kitty?” Kitty owned that she had rather stay at home. Darcy professed a great curiosity to see the view from the Mount, and Elizabeth silently consented.
When Lydia went away she promised to write very often and very minutely to her mother and Kitty; but her letters were always long expected, and always very short. Those to her mother contained little else than that they were just returned from the library, where such and such officers had attended them, and where she had seen such beautiful ornaments as made her quite wild; that she had a new gown, or a new parasol, which she would have described more fully, but was obliged to leave off in a violent hurry, as Mrs. Forster called her, and they were going off to the camp; and from her correspondence with her sister, there was still less to be learnt—for her letters to Kitty, though rather longer, were much too full of lines under the words to be made public.After the first fortnight or three weeks of her absence, health, good humour, and cheerfulness began to reappear at Longbourn. Everything wore a happier aspect. The families who had been in town for the winter came back again, and summer finery and summer engagements arose. Mrs. Bennet was restored to her usual querulous serenity; and, by the middle of June, Kitty was so much recovered as to be able to enter Meryton without tears; an event of such happy promise as to make Elizabeth hope that by the following Christmas she might be so tolerably reasonable as not to mention an officer above once a day, unless, by some cruel and malicious arrangement at the War Office, another regiment should be quartered in Meryton.
In the dining-room they were soon joined by Mary and Kitty, who had been too busily engaged in their separate apartments to make their appearance before. One came from her books, and the other from her toilette. The faces of both, however, were tolerably calm; and no change was visible in either, except that the loss of her favourite sister, or the anger which she had herself incurred in this business, had given more of fretfulness than usual to the accents of Kitty.
“Mary and Kitty have been very kind, and would have shared in every fatigue, I am sure; but I did not think it right for either of them. Kitty is slight and delicate; and Mary studies so much, that her hours of repose should not be broken in on. . . .”
“This is a parade,” he cried, “which does one good; it gives such an elegance to misfortune! Another day I will do the same; I will sit in my library, in my nightcap and powdering gown, and give as much trouble as I can; or, perhaps, I may defer it till Kitty runs away.” “I am not going to run away, papa,” said Kitty fretfully. “If I should ever go to Brighton, I would behave better than Lydia.” “You go to Brighton. I would not trust you so near it as Eastbourne for fifty pounds! No, Kitty, I have at last learnt to be cautious, and you will feel the effects of it. No officer is ever to enter into my house again, nor even to pass through the village. Balls will be absolutely prohibited, unless you stand up with one of your sisters. And you are never to stir out of doors till you can prove that you have spent ten minutes of every day in a rational manner.” Kitty, who took all these threats in a serious light, began to cry. “Well, well,” said he, “do not make yourself unhappy. If you are a good girl for the next ten years, I will take you to a review at the end of them.”
[When Lydia and Wickham come as a married couple.] The family were assembled in the breakfast room to receive them. Smiles decked the face of Mrs. Bennet as the carriage drove up to the door; her husband looked impenetrably grave; her daughters, alarmed, anxious, uneasy.
Indeed, a Kitty without Lydia seems sort of innocent but more aware than she was previously:
“There is a gentleman with him, mamma,” said Kitty; “who can it be?” “Some acquaintance or other, my dear, I suppose; I am sure I do not know.” “La!” replied Kitty, “it looks just like that man that used to be with him before. Mr. what’s-his-name. That tall, proud man.”
Two obstacles of the five being thus removed, Mrs. Bennet sat looking and winking at Elizabeth and Catherine for a considerable time, without making any impression on them. Elizabeth would not observe her; and when at last Kitty did, she very innocently said, “What is the matter mamma? What do you keep winking at me for? What am I to do?” “Nothing child, nothing. I did not wink at you.” She then sat still five minutes longer; but unable to waste such a precious occasion, she suddenly got up, and saying to Kitty, “Come here, my love, I want to speak to you,” took her out of the room. Jane instantly gave a look at Elizabeth which spoke her distress at such premeditation, and her entreaty that she would not give in to it. In a few minutes, Mrs. Bennet half-opened the door and called out: “Lizzy, my dear, I want to speak with you.” Elizabeth was forced to go. “We may as well leave them by themselves you know;” said her mother, as soon as she was in the hall. “Kitty and I are going upstairs to sit in my dressing-room.” Elizabeth made no attempt to reason with her mother, but remained quietly in the hall, till she and Kitty were out of sight, then returned into the drawing-room.
It was an evening of no common delight to them all; the satisfaction of Miss Bennet’s mind gave a glow of such sweet animation to her face, as made her look handsomer than ever. Kitty simpered and smiled, and hoped her turn was coming soon.
Through the work of her family, Kitty is able to grow into a much better person:
Kitty, to her very material advantage, spent the chief of her time with her two elder sisters. In society so superior to what she had generally known, her improvement was great. She was not of so ungovernable a temper as Lydia; and, removed from the influence of Lydia’s example, she became, by proper attention and management, less irritable, less ignorant, and less insipid. From the further disadvantage of Lydia’s society she was of course carefully kept, and though Mrs. Wickham frequently invited her to come and stay with her, with the promise of balls and young men, her father would never consent to her going.
Here is a collection of the bits and pieces pertaining to Kitty that I do not think have much significance to them in comparison to the other bits – but I did want to include everything so we could make sure to view her character in a complete sense:
“We will go as far as Meryton with you,” said Catherine and Lydia. Elizabeth accepted their company, and the three young ladies set off together.
Before Elizabeth had time for anything but a blush of surprise, Mrs. Bennet answered instantly, “Oh dear!—yes—certainly. I am sure Lizzy will be very happy—I am sure she can have no objection. Come, Kitty, I want you upstairs.” And, gathering her work together, she was hastening away, when Elizabeth called out: “Dear madam, do not go. I beg you will not go. Mr. Collins must excuse me. He can have nothing to say to me that anybody need not hear. I am going away myself.” “No, no, nonsense, Lizzy. I desire you to stay where you are.” And upon Elizabeth’s seeming really, with vexed and embarrassed looks, about to escape, she added: “Lizzy, I insist upon your staying and hearing Mr. Collins.” Elizabeth would not oppose such an injunction—and a moment’s consideration making her also sensible that it would be wisest to get it over as soon and as quietly as possible, she sat down again and tried to conceal, by incessant employment the feelings which were divided between distress and diversion. Mrs. Bennet and Kitty walked off, and as soon as they were gone, Mr. Collins began.
Elizabeth took the letter from his writing-table, and they went upstairs together. Mary and Kitty were both with Mrs. Bennet: one communication would, therefore, do for all.
She then hastened away to her mother, who had purposely broken up the card party, and was sitting up stairs with Kitty.
[When Lady Catherine appears at Longbourn:] They were of course all intending to be surprised; but their astonishment was beyond their expectation; and on the part of Mrs. Bennet and Kitty, though she was perfectly unknown to them, even inferior to what Elizabeth felt.
“And that I suppose is one of your sisters.” “Yes, madam,” said Mrs. Bennet, delighted to speak to Lady Catherine. “She is my youngest girl but one. My youngest of all is lately married, and my eldest is somewhere about the grounds, walking with a young man who, I believe, will soon become a part of the family.”
In a few minutes he approached the table where she was sitting with Kitty; and, while pretending to admire her work said in a whisper, “Go to your father, he wants you in the library.”
He then recollected her embarrassment a few days before, on his reading Mr. Collins’s letter; and after laughing at her some time, allowed her at last to go—saying, as she quitted the room, “If any young men come for Mary or Kitty, send them in, for I am quite at leisure.”
“My mother is tolerably well, I trust; though her spirits are greatly shaken. She is upstairs and will have great satisfaction in seeing you all. She does not yet leave her dressing-room. Mary and Kitty, thank Heaven, are quite well.”
[Mrs. Bennet, excited:] “ . . . Lizzy, my dear, run down to your father, and ask him how much he will give her. Stay, stay, I will go myself. Ring the bell, Kitty, for Hill. I will put on my things in a moment. My dear, dear Lydia! How merry we shall be together when we meet!”
[Mrs. Bennet, excited:] “ . . . Kitty, run down and order the carriage. An airing would do me a great deal of good, I am sure. Girls, can I do anything for you in Meryton? Oh! Here comes Hill! My dear Hill, have you heard the good news? Miss Lydia is going to be married; and you shall all have a bowl of punch to make merry at her wedding.”
And there you have the various pieces of text pertaining to Kitty! I think these pieces seem to indicate that Kitty is an unsure and sensitive girl who just wants someone to hold on to. Though she appears to be an extrovert because of her association with Lydia, Lydia actually does a lot of the talking. It seems to me more as if Kitty is an introvert trying to copy an extrovert. She is not especially appreciated by her family, and though Lydia has fun with her, Lydia does not seem to particularly care about tending to Kitty’s feelings.
I think this makes Kitty a rather sympathetic character. She seems to be a typical teenager in some ways–self-doubting and uncertain about the world around her.
What are your general thoughts about Kitty? Do you like seeing her play a bigger role in Pride and Prejudice variations?
As a sort of side note, I would like to announce the recent publication of my Pride and Prejudice variation, A Sister’s Sacrifice. While Elizabeth and Darcy are the main characters, I do give Kitty a bigger role than Mary and Lydia.
I view Kitty as someone who has a lot of potential because she’s a wild card. To use Lydia in a story, you will have to go through quite a bit of work to make her anything other than what she is. But with Kitty, she can follow in Lydia’s footsteps or Elizabeth’s footsteps. Whose footsteps do you think I chose in A Sister’s Sacrifice? (Insert Cheshire grin here.)
Every Woman Dreams... 
