Writers wanted for the Quizzing Glass!

The Quizzing Glass blog is looking for new contributors. Here are some reasons to consider taking advantage of this volunteer writing opportunity:

  • You can share with fellow RFW members interesting facts and information you may have gathered while doing research for your own books.
  • You can determine the Regency-related topic you want to write about, and how often you want to post.
  • You don’t always have to come up with ideas for posts; posts that list members’ upcoming releases are another Quizzing Glass feature.

Interested? Contact Caroline Linden, RFW Communications Director, for more information.

 

Pistols for Two, Breakfast for One

“A Duel, 1776,” painting owned by James F. Kulhanek

If you read Regency romances chances are you will sooner or later be drawn into a duel, or at least an account of one. Though it was illegal, dueling was a popular way for Regency males to display their athletic prowess, respond to an insult or settle a debt of honor.

In the 18th century, duels were often fought in London’s Hyde Park. But as the city grew, Primrose Hill (and nearby Chalk Farm) to the north of London became a popular spot for these sometimes-deadly encounters. Primrose Hill was a wooded area, remote from the city but still easy to reach by carriage. According to the Camden History Society, at least seven duelists died on or in the vicinity of Primrose Hill from 1790 to 1837, with 25 exchanges of gunfire recorded.

Duels were fought for the slimmest of reasons. In 1803 one man died and another was severely wounded in a duel that was apparently the result of a disagreement between two dogs. Lieutenant-Colonel Montgomery and Captain Macnamara were walking their dogs in Hyde Park when one of the canines “snarled and growled” at the other. The two officers, who’d never even met previously, went to Chalk Farm to settle the matter.

I don’t know what happened to the dogs, but the colonel was killed in the ensuing duel and the captain was seriously injured. Captain Macnamara was later tried for murder at the old Bailey but was acquitted.

In 1806 the poet Thomas Moore took umbrage at some bad reviews of his work and challenged the editor of the Edinburgh Review, Francis Jeffrey, to a duel. The two men were arrested before the duel could take place. It may not have mattered if the duel had proceeded; contemporary accounts suggest that the dueling pistols were loaded with blank cartridges.

Moore also wanted to fight Lord Byron for Byron’s criticism of his work, but Byron went abroad and by the time he came back to England Moore’s emotions had cooled. The two poets eventually became friends.

The Duke of Wellington in 1830, when he was prime minister of Great Britain (painted by John Jackson)

Even the Duke of Wellington fought a duel, when he was 59 years old and the Prime Minister of Great Britain. Wellington had voted in favor of the Catholic Relief Bill, which allowed Catholics to hold seats in Parliament. The Earl of Winchilsea, a staunch Protestant, accused Wellington of an “insidious design” to infringe on the liberties of British citizens, and also slammed Wellington for the “introduction of Popery into every department of the state.”

Wellington couldn’t let this attack on his integrity go unanswered, and so he challenged Winchilsea to a duel at Battersea Fields in the south of London on March 23, 1829. Wellington deloped (fired his pistol into the air) and Winchilsea did the same when it was his turn. No one was hurt and honor was satisfied.

Though duelists were typically male, more than one pair of women picked up pistols or swords to settle an argument. In 1792 Lady Almeria Braddock challenged Mrs. Elphinstone to a duel in Hyde Park. The cause of their quarrel hinged on the question of Lady Almeria’s age. In true mean girl fashion, Mrs. Elphinstone complimented Lady Almeria on how well she looked – given how old she was.

According to the account in Robert Baldick’s fine book, The Duel, a History, Mrs. Elphinstone began her taunts by using the past tense to describe her friend’s beauty. “You have a very good autumnal face even now,” she added, “but you must acknowledge the lilies and roses are somewhat faded. Forty years ago, I am told, a young fellow could hardly gaze on you with impunity.”

Lady Almeria protested that she was not yet 30, which was overdoing it a bit. Mrs. Elphinstone cited Collins, a source similar to Burke’s Peerage, for proof that Lady Almeria was born in 1732, which would have pegged her age at about 60. What else could Lady Almeria do but challenge Mrs. Elphinstone to a duel?

In what came to be known as the “petticoat duel,” the two women started by firing pistols, and Lady Almeria’s hat was the first casualty. They fought on with swords, and the duel continued until Lady Almeria nicked Mrs. Elphinstone in her arm. At the sight of her own blood Mrs. Elphinstone agreed to write an apology to Lady Almeria, and the duel ended.

The moral here is that some “facts” should be accepted without question, especially when it comes to a woman’s age.

“Two women,” by Martin Engelbrecht, circa 1740-1750

~~

Sources for this article include:

Images courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

February Monthly Tea

 

Don’t miss this month’s tea, “Capturing Regency England On The Page” presented by Jayne Davis and Gail Eastwood on Thursday, February 15, 2 p.m. to 3 p.m. EST, via Zoom.

The details that can make or break your Regency-set fiction fall into two major categories: 1) the historical period and 2) the location. Even with research, authors often make mistakes in both areas that can throw their readers right out of the story. We all run into the problem of “you don’t know what you don’t know”!

In their recently released reference work, Writing Regency England, co-authors Jayne Davis and Gail Eastwood tackled the challenge of addressing the genre’s most commonly seen errors in a host of subcategories divided into language, setting, and society. They’ll join us to share some examples from the book and discuss how they chose what to include, what they left out that they would have liked to include, and how combining their perspectives from both sides of the pond helped bring their project to fruition.

Join us for an exciting presentation on “Capturing Regency England on the Page.” (Be sure to SAVE YOUR SPOT via the link below!)

Register Now!

A Stitch in Time

It’s winter, and cold weather is a great inducement to focus on indoor activities.  For me, that means it’s time to find my yarn basket. I just can’t relax for long without a colorful strand of yarn threaded through my fingers and a project to knit or crochet.

Hand knitting and crocheting, used to make sweaters, socks, and other warm clothing, were once more than cozy activities. They were necessary skills, a method anyone could learn to weave strands of wool into fabric without a loom.

Today knitting and crocheting are regarded as hobbies, still practical but also satisfying, with an added social element. The difference between the two crafts is slight – knitters typically use two needles to make their projects while crocheters use a single hook. You can find knitting and crocheting circles in almost every city or region, along with stores selling a wide array of yarns in a rainbow of colors.

Of the two crafts, knitting is older, probably by hundreds of years. The earliest known pieces of knitting appear to have come from Egypt, between the 11th and 14th centuries. These pieces consist of many types of clothing, including stockings.

1855 illustration from Forrester’s Pictorial Miscellany for the Family Circle

Though knitting is often seen as primarily a woman’s activity now, originally the craft was dominated by men. Europe had men-only knitting guilds until the 1700s. It took three years of intensive of training for a man to become a journeyman knitter, and even longer to reach master status.

Before the Industrial Revolution introduced machine knitting, both men and women learned how to knit as a way to use their spare time to earn money. Socks were especially popular. Knitting as part-time work must have been a common practice; there are many illustrations of shepherds knitting while they watch their flocks.

Knitting and crocheting existed during the Regency, though depictions of fashionable ladies enjoying these activities are rare. Accomplished young ladies were expected to learn how to do fine needlework such as embroidery, along with other skills such as music, watercolor painting, and dancing, plus a few French phrases to sprinkle in conversation. The humbler technique of knitting wool into fabric for clothing was most likely left to the lower classes.

However, according to the authors of Eavesdropping on Jane Austen’s England, girls in Regency England learned knitting, sewing and embroidery regardless of their social background because these crafts were considered vital skills. Women spent a lot of time on their clothes, including sewing, mending, altering or decorating their gowns and bonnets, either for themselves, family members or as charity work.

“Woman Knitting,” by Francoise Duparc, 1726-1778

Here’s what one husband wrote to his wife in 1809:

“You have said nothing about how you pass your time or amuse yourself. I should think you’d be at a loss at times for something to do, tho’ I suppose you nit [knit] a great deal now, and must have improved much. I never expect to have to buy any more worsted [woven wool] stockings.”

Jane Austen refers to knitting in her novel, Emma. After hearing Jane Fairfax praised by her aunt, the voluble Miss Bates, Emma says to Harriet:

“One is sick of the very name of Jane Fairfax. Every letter from her is read forty times over; her compliments to all friends go round and round again; and if she does but send her aunt the pattern of a stomacher, or knit a pair of garters for her grandmother, one hears of nothing else for a month. I wish Jane Fairfax very well; but she tires me to death.” (Chapter 10, Volume I).

The art of crochet is more recent. It appears to have sprung from the pages of ladies’ magazines in the early 19th century, during our Regency period.

The first reference in writing to crochet appears in 1812. In her book, The Memoirs of a Highland Lady, Elizabeth Grant talks about “shepherd’s knitting” as a way to use homespun wool to make items of warm clothing like hats, drawers (underwear) and waistcoats.  An old comb was fashioned into a hook for this work.

There is some evidence that lace making in earlier centuries was a predecessor to crochet. Another theory is that crochet may have evolved from “tambour work,” a type of embroidery done with a hook in 18th century France. The term “crochet” in the early 19th century was spelled as either “crotchet” or “crochet” until about 1848, after which “crochet” was the accepted spelling.

No matter how you spell it, crocheting, like knitting, is a popular hobby, fun as well as useful. I am grateful that women during the Regency period kept these arts alive for the benefit of the generations that followed.

Queen Victoria knitting with her daughter, Princess Beatrice, 1895

 

***
Sources for this article include:

  • Eavesdropping on Jane Austen’s England, How our Ancestors Lived Two Centuries Ago, by Roy and Lesley Adkins, published by Abacus, an imprint of the Little, Brown Book Group, a Hachette UK company, London, 2013.
  • Emma, by Jane Austen, published in December 1815, in London by John Murray
  • “Knitting History,” from the Knitting Guild Association website
  • Kooler, Donna, Encyclopedia of Crochet, Leisure Arts. Inc. 2002
  • “The History of Knitting, Part 2: the knitting guilds,” August 16, 2015, The Crafty Gentleman.net

Images courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

A Regency Love Affair: Emma Hamilton and Lord Nelson, Pt. 2

Pastel of Emma wearing her Maltese Cross award, 1800. Nelson owned this portrait, said to be his favorite of her.

Emma and Lord Nelson – first impressions

Emma Hamilton first met Lord Nelson in 1793 in Naples, where her husband, Sir William Hamilton, was stationed as an ambassador to the court of Ferdinand and Maria Carolina. However, Emma and Nelson’s love affair didn’t heat up until after they met again in 1798.

Frances Nelson, circa 1800

It’s hard to picture how Nelson must have appeared to Emma when she first saw him.

At just 5 feet 4 inches tall, Nelson was not a large man. He was frail with a slight frame. In addition, he was often sick due to bouts of dysentery and malaria, souvenirs of his tropical voyages to places like Calcutta, Madras and Ceylon.

Even more importantly, he was married, with a wife (Frances “Fanny” Nisbet) back in England.

By the time Emma met him again in 1798, Nelson had lost most of his teeth in battle and had been blinded in his right eye from a spray of gravel during the Battle of Calvi in Corsica in 1794.

Losing sight in one eye wasn’t his only serious injury. He also lost his right arm (amputated without anesthetic!) due to injuries sustained during the Battle of Santa Cruz in Tenerife in 1797.

Nelson suffered from coughing spells and a head wound that left him with a scar and blinding headaches. Ironically, the naval hero also endured terrible sea-sickness all his life.

However, none these disabilities kept him from going back to the sea again and again to take command and fight Napoleon, ultimately destroying the French emperor’s naval forces by burning and sinking his ships.

1798 portrait of Nelson in his rear-admiral’s undress uniform. Note the empty sleeve pinned to his chest.

As far as Emma was concerned, none of Nelson’s physical drawbacks lessened his appeal. Nelson was famous, a celebrity, and he must have possessed great personal magnetism because Emma fell passionately in love with him. And he, for his part, was utterly captivated by her voluptuous beauty, sensuality, and kind nature.

Emma proved to be an asset to Nelson militarily, too. She helped him win his victory over the French in the Battle of the Nile in 1798. Reportedly, Emma got permission from the government in Naples for Nelson to obtain supplies and water in Sicily for his fleet before the battle.

Birth of Horatia

By 1799 Emma had gone from a good friend to Nelson to becoming his mistress. And by 1800, Emma was pregnant with Nelson’s child.

Emma, Nelson, and Sir William returned to London, where Emma gave birth to Horatia on January 29, 1801, at the Hamilton home in Piccadilly, London.

While Horatia was being born, Nelson was in Torbay preparing to sail into battle for the Battle of Copenhagen. When he got the news of his daughter’s birth, he was overjoyed.

To avoid more scandal, Horatia’s birth was largely kept under wraps. Nelson and Emma took the role of godparents at the child’s baptism, and later they officially adopted the “orphan.”

A ménage a trois

When Nelson returned to Britain after the battle, he and Emma lived together with Sir William at Merton Place, the Hamilton home in Surrey, in a scandalous ménage a trois. Emma’s mother was also part of the household. Emma became pregnant by Nelson again, but this child, another daughter, died soon after birth.

How much of the love affair between Nelson and his wife Hamilton knew about and tolerated is uncertain. During his life, he acted as though Lord Nelson was merely a good friend of the family, and never showed any animosity to him or treated him as a rival. And for her part, Emma seemed devoted to her husband, treating him with love and affection.

Horatia Ward, daughter of Emma and Lord Nelson

Perhaps Hamilton’s age and ill health had something to do with his attitude. He died in Emma’s arms at the age of 72 in April of 1803. His death left Emma free to remarry.

However, Emma couldn’t marry her lover unless Nelson could get a divorce from his wife, but that was never going to happen. Fanny was adamantly opposed to giving her unfaithful husband a divorce.

Fanny refused to reconsider her decision on a divorce, even though Nelson never lived with her again after she demanded, in 1800, that he choose between her and Emma.

His actual response to his wife’s ultimatum, sent via letter, was: “I love you sincerely but I cannot forget my obligations to Lady Hamilton or speak of her otherwise than with affection and admiration.”

That exchange was the unofficial end of Nelson’s marriage to Fanny. Except, of course, for the pension Fanny received years later as Nelson’s widow, and the tributes she got following her husband’s death in battle.

Trafalgar

Following Sir William’s death, Emma and Nelson stayed together in England, maintaining separate residences for propriety’s sake. That arrangement lasted until Nelson returned to sea once more in 1805 to fight his old foe, Napoleon, for the last time at Trafalgar.

That glorious victory was the last for Nelson, who died a hero. He was shot through his spine while standing on the quarterdeck of his ship, the HMS Victory, during the battle. As he lay dying below decks, among Nelson’s last words was a plea “to take care of poor Lady Hamilton,” a request that went unheeded.

Not a rich man himself, Nelson had actually left instructions for the government to provide for Emma and Horatia, but the government didn’t follow his wishes. Instead, the grateful nation showered money and titles on Nelson’s family, particularly his brother.

Lord Nelson’s magnificent state funeral in St. Paul’s Cathedral, 1806

Nelson’s funeral

The nation mourned Nelson’s death and he was given a grand state funeral, an honor previously restricted to members of the royal family. Royalty, minsters, peers of the realm and at least 10,000 soldiers accompanied his coffin in its procession from the Admiralty to St. Paul’s cathedral on January 9, 1806.

Seven thousand people were at Nelson’s funeral service, including seamen and marines from the HMS Victory, seven royal dukes, 16 earls, 32 admirals and over 100 captains.

And yet, Emma, the love of Nelson’s life, was denied permission to attend, much less sing at his funeral as he had requested.

Emma’s life after Nelson

After Nelson died, Emma’s life spiraled downward. Sir William had left her a modest pension, but she soon exhausted it through gambling and extravagant spending. She even lost Merton Place, because she couldn’t afford to maintain it.

In the years following Nelson’s death, she repeatedly asked the government for money but was ignored. She successfully petitioned others for financial relief but was never able to hold on to the small sums she sometimes received.

While Nelson was alive, apparently neither she, Sir William nor Nelson saw anything wrong with their unconventional living arrangement. But the rest of England didn’t agree, and society judged her harshly for it when the men involved were gone.

As she aged Emma’s charms faded; she grew quite stout and began to drink heavily to the detriment of her health. Unable to pay her debts, she was arrested and went to King’s Bench Prison, keeping her daughter Horatia beside her in the vain hope that the child would give her some leverage with her creditors.

King’s Bench Prison in London, engraving by Thomas Rowlandson, 1809

The end of Emma

On a temporary reprieve from prison in April of 2014, Emma managed somehow to get passage across the English Channel to Calais, with 13-year-old Horatia in tow. She eventually went from a hotel lodging to a squalid single room where Horatia had to tend to her bodily needs, nursing her mother and pawning their meager belongings for money to survive.

Emma finally died, of liver failure and in dire poverty, at age 49 in Calais on January 15, 1815.

There was no money for a funeral, no money to honor Emma’s wish to be buried in England. It was thanks to the charity of an Irish officer on half-pay that she had any services at all.

But on the day Emma was laid to rest, the master and captain of every English ship in the port of Calais put on his best clothes and went into town to follow her coffin to her grave. They did it as a final act of loyalty to Nelson who had been so steadfast and sincere in his love for his mistress.

Following Emma’s death, Horatia went back to England, traveling in disguise as a boy to escape Emma’s creditors. She was taken in by one of Nelson’s sisters, and eventually married a clergyman, Philip Ward.

Horatia got to enjoy the happy family life that eluded Emma; she bore Ward 10 children and lived to be eighty. However, although she was proud that Nelson was her father, she never publicly admitted that Emma was her mother. That could be because she never got over her miserable experiences in debtor’s prison and later in Calais with Emma.

So this is a good month to remember “poor Lady Hamilton,” a woman who, like Shakespeare’s Othello said of himself, “loved not wisely but too well.”

Admiral Nelson and Emma Hamilton in Naples, as imagined by an unknown German painter in the early 19th century

~~

Sources used for this post include:

  • Emma Hamilton, by Norah Lofts, published by Coward, McCann & Geoghegan, Inc. New York, 1978
  • Entry for “Lady Hamilton” in Britannica.com, copyright 2024 Encyclopedia Britannica Inc.
  • “Nelson, Trafalgar, and those who served . . . ”  National Archives, UK government
  • “Vice-Admiral Lord Nelson’s State Funeral,” The History Press, copyright 2024.
  •  “Horatio Nelson, 1758-1805, Vice Admiral of the White,”  Royal Museums Greenwich
  • “Admiral Lord Nelson,” by Ben Johnson, Historic-UK.com
  • “Emma’s end: death, exile and defiance,” Royal Museums Greenwich

Images courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

A Regency Love Affair: Emma Hamilton and Lord Nelson, Pt. 1

Emma before she became Lady Hamilton, painted by George Romney in 1785

This month marks the 209th anniversary of the death of Emma Hamilton. She was best known during the Regency as Emma Hamilton, wife of Sir William Hamilton and the mistress of naval hero Vice-Admiral Horatio Nelson. Theirs was a passionate affair, and this is the story of two intertwined lives, one of which ended in glory and the other in obscurity.

I’ll bet you can guess who got the glory and who didn’t.

Now, I find Emma fascinating for a number of reasons. She was a bright spark of a girl, born in poverty but soon able to use her good looks and vivacious personality to get ahead in life.

She was fortunate to find a kind man to marry her and a great man to love her. But she was unable to secure the affection of her children, and by the end of her life she lost everything, perhaps because she never developed the strength of mind and character that’s so often needed to deal with life’s trials and tribulations.

See what you think. Here are some biographical facts about Emma.

Emma’s early years

Emma Hamilton was born as Amy (some sources say Emily) Lyon in 1765 in a Cheshire country village in 1765. Her father, Henry Lyon, was an illiterate blacksmith who died when she was only 2 months old. His daughter was raised by her mother and grandmother in Wales. Later, Amy Lyon changed her name to Emma Hart.

Her mother also changed her name from Mary Kidd to Mrs. Cadogan, and Mrs. Cadogan spent the rest of her life (she died on another January day in 1810) by Emma’s side, apparently exerting a good influence that was sorely missed after she was gone.

Emma’s mother and grandmother struggled to make ends meet, and Mary went to London in 1777, leaving 12-year-old Emma behind. The girl got a job working as a maid for a surgeon in Chester. But she soon followed her mother  to London.

In London Emma found work as a maid and nursemaid in people’s homes.  She also worked as a maid to actresses at the Drury Lane Theatre in Covent Garden. But as Emma blossomed in her teens, her beauty became abundantly apparent. With her lithe figure, masses of red-gold hair and large blue-gray eyes, she attracted a lot of attention. She also possessed natural talents in singing and dancing.

It wasn’t long before Emma went from working as a maid to being a model and dancer at the risqué “Temple of Health and Hymen” at the Adelphi, run by James Graham, a fake Scottish doctor. This was her introduction into the shady world of London’s demi-monde.

By the age of 15, Emma had found a protector, Sir Henry Fetherstonhaugh, who made her his mistress and used her as a hostess to entertain his male friends at his country estate, Uppark.

Emma and Charles Greville

About this time 16-year-old Emma became pregnant, and a furious Sir Henry turned her out. There’s some dispute among her biographers whether Sir Henry was the father, or the father was one of his guests, the Hon. Charles Francis Greville, younger son of the Earl of Warwick.

Charles Francis Greville

In any case, it was Greville that a frantic Emma appealed to for help and Greville who took her in, arranging support for her child.

Greville agreed to take Emma as his mistress providing that her child, a girl, was fostered by someone else. Though Emma was allowed some contact with her daughter the child was raised by others, and later in life Emma refused to even acknowledge the girl as hers.

It was also Greville who introduced Emma to his friend, the painter George Romney. The beautiful young woman soon became Romney’s muse, and he made about 30-50 portraits of her (some clothed, some nude) when she was in her late teens and 20s.

Emma meets Sir William Hamilton

It seems that the ebullient Emma believed herself madly in love with the much older and more serious Greville, and he took care of her for a time. But when Greville got the opportunity to marry a rich young woman, he handed his mistress off to his uncle, Sir William Hamilton, who was in Naples serving as a British ambassador to the court of Ferdinand and Maria Carolina.

Hamilton was in his mid-50s and a widower when he met Emma, who was half his age. He was lonely, and he needed a hostess for his salon in Naples. Greville assured his uncle that the arrangement was only temporary; he promised that once he was safely married to the 18-year-old heiress he was courting he would send for Emma.

Greville didn’t tell Emma about his plans, or that she was going to Naples to become his uncle’s mistress. She thought she was going to Italy for a holiday with her mother, who was recovering from a stroke.

Sir William Hamilton, painted by George Romney in 1783-84

Emma arrived in Naples on her 21st birthday on April 26, 1786. After six months of begging Greville to come and get her, she finally understood she had been cast off. That realization must have been devastating.

At first, Emma’s relationship with Hamilton was platonic. However, the British diplomat gradually became enamored of the young woman, and they began an affair.

Then Hamilton went a step further and sought and received special permission from King George III to marry his mistress. (Because Sir William held a public position, he needed the king’s authorization to marry.)

That permission was grudgingly granted, and William and Emma returned to London and married on September 6, 1791, in St. Marylebone Parish Church, when the diplomat was 60 and his young wife was only 26.

Despite the wedding, George III still disapproved of the new Lady Hamilton, and Emma was never received at court in England. At that time, once a woman’s reputation was lost she never really recovered it, even with the mantle of respectability that matrimony might bestow.

Emma’s “Attitudes”

While in Naples, Emma quickly became noted throughout Europe for her “attitudes” a performing art she helped popularize. In these “attitudes” Emma combined her skills in modeling, acting, and dance to portray classical sculptures and  paintings for British visitors.

Attitudes were a popular parlor game, much like charades, at the end of the 18th century, with girls striking poses and their audience guessing who they were trying to be. Of Emma, it was said that with nothing but a shawl and a couple of scarves she could convincingly portray any number of classical figures from Greek myths.

With her poses and props, Emma inspired many artists in England and Europe to try and capture her essence in their work. And of course, satirists followed suit.  Here’s a portrait of Emma painted in Naples in 1792 by French painter Élisabeth Vigée-Lebrun:

“Lady Hamilton as the Persian Sibyl”

And here’s a caricature of Emma performing one of her attitudes, created by Thomas Rowlandson in the mid-1810s:

However, Emma did more than entertain others in Naples as Sir William’s hostess and later, his wife. She became the friend and confidante of Maria Carolina, the Queen of Naples and Sicily. Maria Carolina was also the sister of Marie Antoinette.

Emma bravely helped Maria Carolina and her children escape the French mob that threatened to overrun Naples while the French Revolution raged in France. Emma was also awarded the Cross of Malta medal for her work in getting supplies to that island while the French occupied it in 1798.

Emma meets Lord Nelson

Though uneducated, Emma seems to have been remarkably intelligent, witty, and resourceful, a friend to crowned heads and consort to famous men. And in the late 18th and early 19th century, few men were more famous than Vice-Admiral Horatio Nelson, (who was also 1st Viscount Nelson and 1st Duke of Bronte). Nelson was a celebrated war hero, the victor of many naval battles in the decades-long fight against Napoleon.

Nelson met Emma and her husband in Naples in 1793, while Sir William was stationed there. But their affair didn’t start until five years later, when Emma and Lord Nelson’s paths crossed again.

Following Nelson’s victory in the Battle of the Nile in August of 1798, Sir William graciously invited the Vice-Admiral to stay with him and Emma at their villa in Naples. Nelson needed a place to stay while his ships were being refitted and supplies obtained. I’m sure the naval hero also needed some rest and relaxation following the fight.

Sir William’s invitation was the beginning of a romantic, and scandalous, love affair between the beautiful Emma and the brave Horatio. By the end of 1799 Nelson and Emma were lovers, and in 1800 Sir William, Emma and Nelson returned to England together. By then, Emma was pregnant with the Vice-Admiral’s child.

Next time: A tragic end for Emma

~~

Sources used for this post include:

  • Emma Hamilton, by Norah Lofts, published by Coward, McCann & Geoghegan, Inc. New York, 1978
  • Entry for “Lady Hamilton” in Britannica.com, copyright 2024 Encyclopedia Britannica Inc.
  • “Emma Hamilton and Lord Nelson,” Royal Museums Greenwich
  • “Emma, Lady Hamilton,” by Ben Johnson, Historic UK

Images courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Please join us for our monthly members-only tea on January 18th at 12 PM MST (1 PM CST/2 PM EST). Members, be sure to reserve your spot via the Register Now! link below. Not a member? Come along and join us in time for this presentation!

Presented by Brenda Cox, this month’s topic is “Her Parish and Her Poultry: The Lives of Clergymen’s Wives in Regency England.”

The clergyman’s wife was a central character in any country town of Regency England. In Jane Austen’s novels, we meet clergymen’s wives ranging from practical Charlotte Collins of Pride and Prejudice to kind Mrs. Grant and stingy Mrs. Norris of Mansfield Park. What kind of woman was a clergyman’s wife expected to be during the Regency? How would she spend her days? What level of income, number of servants, and place in society would she likely have? How involved would she be in her husband’s parish?

Author Brenda Cox will draw from Austen’s novels as well as from real-life clergymen’s wives at the time, including Jane Austen’s mother and Jane’s dear friend Mrs. Lefroy, to share with us the lives of clergymen’s wives in Regency England.

Brenda S. Cox has been researching the church in Jane Austen’s England for about ten years. Her book, Fashionable Goodness: Christianity in Jane Austen’s England, explores many aspects of that church: the clergy, church services, challenges to the church, ways that church impacted the world, and much more.

Brenda spoke on the Regency church at the RFW 2022 AGM and has spoken on related topics at a number of JASNA AGMs and regional meetings, as well as at Regency Week in Alton, England, 2023.

You can find her articles online at Jane Austen’s World and at her own website: Faith, Science, Joy, and Jane Austen, as well as in Persuasions On-Line. Fashionable Goodness is available on Amazon. Brenda is currently working on her first Regency novel, a sequel to Sense and Sensibility.

Register Now!

 

A Fashionable Rout

“Lady Godina’s rout; – or – Peeping-Tom spying out Pope-Joan,” by James Gillray, 1796.

In my last post I talked about the riddles that appeared in Jane Austen’s Emma. Another form of entertainment that was popular in Georgian England and also features in Emma is a rout-party, or rout.

Routs were informal social gatherings hosted by the well-to-do in their homes. There were many types of routs – they could feature amusements such as conversation, music, card-playing, and, of course, plenty to eat and drink. In London a really successful rout could be thronged with guests, resulting in a “crush” that was sure to enhance the party-giving reputation of the hostess.

In Chapter XVI, Volume II of Emma, Mrs. Elton complains about the local routs she’s attended, noting “the poor attempt at routcakes [small, sweet cakes] and there being no ice in the Highbury card-parties.”

She plans on showing how a proper rout is done by hosting “one very superior party—in which her card-tables should be set out with their separate candles and unbroken packs in the true style—and more waiters engaged for the evening than their own establishment could furnish, to carry round the refreshments at exactly the proper hour, and in the proper order.”

In the wicked satire above, Gillray pictures a teen-aged Lady Georgina Gordon (i.e. “Lady Godina”) gambling at a crowded rout-party, playing a card game called Pope Joan. She’s holding the “Curse of Scotland” or the nine of diamonds, which is a winning hand. The gowns, and especially the huge feathery headdresses, are comically exaggerated.

These large evening get-togethers could get pretty rowdy, which is most likely why the military term of “rout” (meaning a disorderly retreat) became the accepted way to describe them. I’m sure, however, that Mrs. Elton’s rout-party would be a completely proper and sedate affair, as befits a vicar’s wife!

~~

Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Fun with Words: Riddles, Rebuses and Jane Austen

Jane Austen must have had fun writing her fourth published novel, Emma. In addition to sparkling dialogue, funny situations, and comic misunderstandings, she included a couple of riddles.  If you have the book handy, these riddles (also referred to as charades) appear in Chapter IX of Volume I.

Here’s how the riddles appear: Emma is attempting to improve her protégé Harriet’s mind with reading and conversation, but the only literary pursuit that interests Harriet is collecting riddles, which she is compiling into a book.

Emma sees an opportunity to further her misguided scheme of matching Harriet with Mr. Elton. She asks the vicar to contribute a riddle to Harriet’s collection. He replies with this convoluted gem:

“Another view of man, my second brings, Behold him there, the monarch of the seas!

But ah! united, what reverse we have! Man’s boasted power and freedom, all are flown; 

Lord of the earth and sea, he bends a slave, And woman, lovely woman, reigns alone. 

Thy ready wit the word will soon supply, May its approval beam in that soft eye!”

Emma solves the riddle right away but has to explain it to Harriet. It’s a two-syllable word, she tells her friend. “My first” or the first syllable signifies “court” (the wealth and pomp of kings) and the second (monarch of the seas) is “ship.” Put together, the answer is “courtship,” during which a man “bends a slave” and “woman, lovely woman, reigns alone.”

Emma is convinced that the riddle is a compliment to Harriet, announcing Mr. Elton’s wish to court her. But Emma is clueless, of course. She doesn’t get that Mr. Elton meant the riddle for her.

In any case, riddles were a popular pastime in Regency England. Here’s another riddle, well-known in her time, that Jane Austen also mentions in Chapter IX:

“My first doth affliction denote, Which my second is destin’d to feel 

And my whole is the best antidote, That affliction to soften and heal.

Thy ready wit the word will soon supply, May its approval beam in that soft eye!”

Once again the answer is a two-syllable word. The first syllable, a synonym for affliction, is woe. The second syllable refers to who feels the pain – man. So the answer to the riddle of what is the best cure for man’s pain is woe-man or woman.

Though this riddle is discussed by Emma and Harriet the answer isn’t spelled out in the text – probably because the author figured everybody already knew it.

But perhaps the best-known riddle of all time is the classic Riddle of the Sphinx. Jane Austen would almost certainly have been familiar with it. It’s in Oedipus Rex, a play written by the Greek dramatist Sophocles approximately 430 years BCE.

“Oedipus and the Sphinx,” by Jean-Auguste-Dominque Ingres, 1808

In the story, Oedipus has to get into the city of Thebes. But he has a problem: the entrance to the city is guarded by the Sphinx, a mythical creature that has the face of a woman, the body of a lion, and the wings of a bird.

The Sphinx amuses herself by demanding that anyone who wants to enter the city answer a riddle first. If they don’t get the right answer – and, spoiler alert, no one does – she eats them. That’s why the Sphinx is often depicted in art with the remnants of her victims at her feet.

Here’s her riddle: “Which creature has one voice and yet becomes four-footed and two-footed and three-footed?” Do you know the answer? Oedipus did, so the Sphinx went hungry that night.

The answer is man – as a baby he crawls on all fours, as an adult he walks on two feet, and as an old man he walks with a cane – the cane is the third foot.

Riddles were popular brain teasers in the 18th and 19th centuries. One form of entertainment was a riddle menu, where you had to figure out what items were on a menu by solving a riddle.

For example, would you care for some “counterfeit agony”? You might turn that offer down until you realize it’s a riddle: “counterfeit” means “sham” and rhymes with “cham,” while “agony” is “pain” and rhymes with “pagne.” Now, how about that glass of champagne?

Bishop Oldham’s “owl-dom” rebus in Exeter Cathedral

In addition to riddles, a type of puzzle known as a rebus was another popular game, not only in the 18th and 19th centuries but going back as far as the Middle Ages.

A rebus is a word puzzle that uses pictures combined with letters to illustrate a word, a phrase, or even a whole sentence. It’s like a code you have to decipher to understand the message.

During the Middle Ages, rebuses were used in heraldry. A rebus often represented a surname in a family crest.

Jane Austen may have been familiar with a children’s Bible published by English painter and engraver Thomas Bewick during the 1780s in London.

Bewick’s book bears a ponderous title that begins with “A new hieroglyphical Bible: for the amusement & instruction of children: being a selection of the most useful lessons, and most interesting narratives (scripturally arranged) from Genesis to the Revelations : embellished with familiar figures, & striking emblems; elegantly engraved”  and continues for several more lines.

In his book, Bewick often uses pictures in place of text to simplify the stories and make them more appealing to children. A few years after this book came out in England, Isiah Thomas published a similar rebus-filled children’s Bible in America.

Here’s a Victorian example of a rebus on an “escort card” (also known as acquaintance or flirtation cards) that a 19th-century man might give to a woman he’s interested in courting:

“May I see you home, my dear?”

Rebuses are still popular today, used by advertisers, in books and on game shows, and even in the form of emojis in text messages and emails. Any parent who’s ever sat with a child in an American doctor or dentist’s office has likely seen the rebus page in the magazine Highlights for Children.

A rebus may have been difficult for Jane Austen’s publishers to add to her manuscripts, even if she wanted one in her stories. But at least we have proof in Emma that Jane enjoyed a good riddle!

~~

Sources for this post include:

  • Riddles, Charades, Rebusses, from the British Library Collection
  • “Decoding (Most of) an 18th-Century ‘Riddle Menu’,” by Anne Ewbank, Atlas Obscura, October 26, 2018
  • Emma, by Jane Austen, published December 23, 1815, by John Murray, London

Images courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Christmas with Jane Austen and Charles Dickens

Mr. Fezziwig’s Christmas Ball, from A Christmas Carol

I’m always impressed by how one book can make a tremendous impact on the world, extending far beyond the writer’s lifetime. This certainly applies to Charles Dickens, born just a year after George, Prince of Wales was appointed Prince Regent. Dickens’ book, A Christmas Carol (originally titled A Christmas Carol. In Prose. Being a Ghost Story of Christmas) not only affected the way Victorians celebrated Christmas but is still a major influence on the Christmas values and traditions we cherish today.

Christmas in Jane Austen’s time

If we could travel back in time a couple of hundred years, we’d see that Christmas celebrations before the Victorian era bear little resemblance to how we celebrate today.

In medieval times Christmas celebrations were the highlight of the year, with feasting, pantomimes, dancing, singing, games, gifts, and other fun. However, the Puritans of the 16th and 17th centuries frowned on celebrations in general and forbade any frivolity at Christmas.

This Puritan influence lingered, and during the 18th century and the Regency era, Christmas was low-key. Games, gifts, and raucous merry making were out.  A toned-down observance of the holiday centering on a religious service was in.

In Pride and Prejudice Jane Austen mentions Christmas exactly six times, and the references are brief. For example, Darcy says his sister will stay at Pemberley until Christmas, and Mrs. Bennet’s brother and sister-in-law are mentioned as having come as usual to spend “the Christmas at Longbourn.”

A bag-boiled plum pudding, a Christmas treat Jane Austen would have recognized.

That’s not to say that Christmas wasn’t observed at all. Regency homes were often decorated with greenery such as holly or laurel. People went to church on Christmas Day, and then home to a dinner that could include plum pudding and mince pie.

Lucky servants or tradesmen might get “Christmas Boxes” – small gifts of money – but it wasn’t the custom to lavish gifts on family and friends the way we often do today.

Austen alludes to festivities linked to Christmas during the Regency in Pride and Prejudice through a character in her story, Caroline Bingley.

Caroline, sister of the eligible bachelor Mr. Bingley, sends Jane Bennet a letter, hoping to convince Jane that her brother was no longer interested in her. She writes:

“I sincerely hope your Christmas in Hertfordshire may abound in the gaieties which that season generally brings, and that your beaux will be so numerous as to prevent your feeling the loss of the three of whom we shall deprive you.”

“Gaieties” sounds nice, even if the intent of Caroline’s letter was mean.

Queen Victoria and Prince Albert with their children and their Christmas tree, December 1848

Christmas observances in England started to change when Queen Victoria married Prince Albert. Prince Albert usually gets the credit for having the first decorated Christmas tree in England, a Christmas tree being a German custom he brought to his family in the late 1840s. His royal example inspired British families to get their own Christmas trees.

Less well-known is the fact that it was the German wife of King George III, Queen Charlotte, who actually set up the first Christmas tree in England in 1800 in the Royal Lodge at Windsor.

However, Christmas really started to transform into the merry holiday we’re familiar with after a certain novella was published in 1843 and became a smash hit with the British public.

Enter Charles Dickens

On February 7, 1812, while Jane Austen was writing her famous novels and living in a cottage in Chawton, Charles Dickens was born in Portsmouth, England.

His childhood was marred by his family’s financial instability. When Dickens was only 12, his father was thrown into debtor’s prison. Young Charles had to leave school and work in a factory for three years. He was able to return to school, and later began his literary career as a journalist, editing a weekly publication for 20 years while writing his stories.

A portrait of Dickens in 1842, the year before he published A Christmas Carol

Throughout his life, Dickens authored 15 novels and five novellas, plus nonfiction articles and hundreds of short stories. He often wrote about the plight of the poor and the need to reform living and working conditions.

His literary works include A Tale of Two Cities, Oliver Twist and David Copperfield, all of which were popular during his lifetime and still are. But it’s A Christmas Carol, the little book Dickens had to pay Chapman and Hall to publish because they didn’t think it would sell, that may be Dickens’ greatest legacy.

Adaptations of A Christmas Carol

A Christmas Carol has been adapted too many times to count, and in every medium imaginable (books, film, cartoons, stage, public readings, television, radio) with new versions appearing every year.

Scrooge himself has been immortalized and re-interpreted by actors in an array of movies, including the critically acclaimed 1951 film with Alastair Sim and the popular Muppet Christmas Carol starring Michael Caine in 1992. Even Bill Murray had a go at the role in 1988 with Scrooged.

The very first film adaptation as far as anyone knows was a 1901 British silent film, titled Scrooge, or Marley’s Ghost. The special effects are primitive compared to current cinema, but I’m sure the film was scary for its turn-of-the-century audience. (If you’re curious, you can watch it on YouTube.)

The lasting impact of A Christmas Carol 

Scrooge’s transformation from an unloved miser to a beloved philanthropist has helped Christmas evolve into much more than an important religious holiday. It’s also become an occasion to show appreciation for friends and family through joyful celebrations and gifts. Dickens reminded his readers to use Christmas as a time to express gratitude for what they have and give generously to those in need. And, of course, to have fun, too!

~~

This is our last Quizzing Glass post for 2023. We will be here again in the new year.

To borrow Scrooge’s words near the end of A Christmas Carol:

“A merry Christmas to everybody! A happy New Year to all the world.”

~~~

Sources for this post include:

  • Inventing Scrooge, by Carlo DeVito, Cedar Mill Press Book Publishers, Kennebunkport, Maine, 2014
  • The Man Who Invented Christmas, by Les Standiford, Crown Publishing Group, Inc., New York, New York, 2008
  • Eavesdropping on Jane Austen’s England, by Roy and Lesley Adkins, Abacus, an imprint of Little, Brown Book Group, London, England, 2013
  • A Christmas Carol, by Charles Dickens, first published in December 1843, in London, England, by Chapman and Hall.

Images courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

 

The Peace of Christmas Eve

 

British delegate Lord Gambier shaking hands with American leader John Quincy Adams as they formalize the Treaty of Ghent peace pact

The Treaty of Ghent, also known as the Peace of Christmas Eve, was the pact signed in the city of Ghent, Belgium (chosen because Belgium was a neutral country) that officially ended hostilities between the fledgling United States of America and the United Kingdom of Great Britain.

Peace talks started in Ghent in August of 1814. Chief negotiator for the Americans was future president John Quincy Adams, and his British counterpart was a man named Baron Gambier.

Britain may well have sent its “B team” to these negotiations; top British diplomats like Foreign Secretary Viscount Castlereagh and later, the Duke of Wellington, went to Austria to attend the Congress of Vienna, which was taking place at the same time.

So many wars, so many peace pacts to hammer out!

The Treaty of Ghent was approved by Parliament and signed into law by the Prince Regent right before the end of the year, on December 30, 1814. However, the treaty didn’t go into full effect until it was ratified by the U.S. Senate a couple of months later, on February 17, 1815.

How the war started

The War of 1812 was actually several years in the making. Tensions between Great Britain and the United States had been simmering ever since the end of the American Revolutionary War. The Treaty of Paris ended that war in 1783, but rather than diminishing American resentment against the British crown, those feelings grew over the following years.

However, there were a couple of immediate causes that sparked the War of 1812. One was the Royal Navy blockade, intended to hurt Napoleon and the French economy but which also affected American trade with Europe.

Depiction of an impressment gang, 1780

The other was the Royal Navy’s habit of “impressment” – taking American sailors off their ships and forcing them to serve on British warships.

To counter heavy battle losses with Napoleon’s forces, British naval officers supplemented their ranks with these involuntary American conscripts. The Royal Navy reasoned that “once a British citizen always a British citizen” and indeed, it’s possible that some of the American sailors were born before the Revolutionary War and the forming of the new nation. The British officers also found deserters from their own ranks aboard American ships, which only encouraged them to keep up the practice.

In any event, when Congress declared war in 1812 it wasn’t exactly a unanimous decision – it was the narrowest vote on any declaration of war in American history (70 to 39 in the House; 19 to 13 in the Senate).

Strategy

What followed that vote was a truly scattered, wide-ranging war, probably the most disorganized and disaster-prone in U.S. history. It ranged from the provinces of Canada to the Gulf Coast in Louisiana, and from the Great Lakes to the Atlantic Ocean. Native Americans fought on both sides, helping both the British and the American forces.

The United States did enter the war with a strategy of sorts, no matter how harebrained that strategy looks in retrospect. The idea was to conquer Canada, and then either hold the entire country for ransom, using it as leverage to get concessions from the British or failing that, to keep Canada as a consolation prize.

Understandably, the Canadians weren’t too thrilled with this plan. And when the war was over, many Canadians felt that they were the true victors since they had successfully prevented a U.S. takeover of their country.

Burning of Washington, D.C.

Madison in 1817, during her tenure as First Lady.

While peace negotiations were being conducted in Ghent, the British were actively involved in four different invasions in America. The most notorious one was the British attempt to capture Baltimore. Along the way they decided to march on Washington, D.C. and burn the city down – most notably the Capitol, along with other government buildings, including the 3,000-volume Library of Congress and the White House.

At the White House, First Lady Dolley Madison and her staff fled the oncoming troops in such a hurry that they didn’t even have time to clear the dinner table, on which a fine meal had been laid out. The British soldiers apparently enjoyed the food and drink before burning down the house. Talk about adding insult to injury!

Results of the war

Historians have more or less concluded that there were no conclusive winners in the War of 1812. No territory was gained on either side, and the borders of both the U.S. and Great Britain in North America went back to what they were before the war started.

Some argue that Great Britain actually won. Britain made no concessions on the maritime issues, such as the blockade or impressment, that had sparked the war. It didn’t give up any of its North American territories and kept its Canadian colonies and Western forts. The war also put a stop to America’s annoying repeated attempts to invade Canada.

And to top things off, the Royal Navy didn’t stop impressing American sailors until after the Napoleonic Wars ended in 1815.

The war did have a few benefits for the United States, however. The Treaty of Ghent mandate that the countries involved in the war would return to the status quo antebellum – their pre-war borders – was actually a big win for the U.S., which didn’t have to make any territorial concessions to Great Britain as a condition of the peace.

In this way, the Treaty of Ghent actually recognized U.S. sovereignty, giving the new country the respect from Great Britain that had been lacking. For this reason, the War of 1812 is sometimes described as “the second War of Independence.”

The U.S.S. Chesapeake, the ship the mortally wounded Capt. James Lawrence implored his men not to give up. The ship was captured by the British in June 1813.

Lasting cultural impacts

The war may have been short, but it did have a lasting impact on American culture. We gained a national anthem, the Star-Spangled Banner, which started out as a poem written by Francis Scott Key after he witnessed the British shelling of Fort McHenry during the Battle of Baltimore in September of 1814.

In that battle, the British sailed a fleet of 19 ships into Baltimore Harbor, defended by Fort McHenry, and sent about 5,000 soldiers overland to take the city. After a couple of days of fierce fighting and heavy shelling, the Americans won and the U.S. flag still flew over the fort.

Ironically, the American national anthem based on Key’s poem was set to the tune of a popular British song, written by Englishman John Stafford Smith. It’s Smith that Americans can thank for how difficult this song is to sing, as we try to warble through its daunting range of just over an octave and a half.

Also, two expressions from the War of 1812 permanently entered the American lexicon: “war hawks” (referring to the Congressmen who were pro-war) and a catchphrase that’s still heard today: “Don’t give up the ship.”

A Lasting Peace

Following the Treaty of Ghent, the United States has enjoyed an enduring peace with its northern neighbor, Canada. In the early 20th century, three memorials celebrating this peace were built:

  • The Fountain of Time (1920) in Chicago, Illinois
  • The Peace Arch (1921) straddling the border communities of Blaine, Washington and Surrey, British Columbia
  • The Peace Bridge (1927) that connects Fort Erie in Ontario to Buffalo, New York, across the Niagara River at the east end of Lake Erie

Christmas and peace  – what a great combination! Let’s hope it catches on.

~~~

Sources for this post include:

  • 187 Things You Should Know About the War of 1812, by Donald R. Hickey, Maryland Historical Society, Baltimore, Maryland, 2012
  • World History Series: The War of 1812, by Don Nardo, Lucent Books, Inc., San Diego, California, 2000
  • The Prince of Pleasure and His Regency, by J.B. Priestley, Harper and Row Publishers, New York, 1969

 Photos and images courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

December’s Monthly Tea: Six Writing Productivity Myths

 

Join us on December 14 at 2 pm EST for a members-only talk on all things about setting productivity goals for 2024! (Be sure to SAVE YOUR SPOT via the button below!)

When we struggle with productivity, we often find ourselves asking why any one particular method won’t work for us. Or why we aren’t more productive. Or why other people are more productive than us. This workshop is specifically designed to answer those questions. Join Becca Syme, author success coach and writer, for an opportunity to learn about productivity systems and the concept of success alignment. Don’t miss it!

About Becca Syme

Becca Syme holds a master’s degree in transformational leadership and has been a success coach (primarily utilizing the Gallup Strengthsfinder®) for over fifteen years. She’s coached over 5,000 individual authors and creatives through her Write Better-Faster and Strengths for Writers classes & coaching cohorts: six- and seven-figure authors, major award winners, midlisters, and new authors alike. Becca is the host of QuitCast for Writers and a mystery author. Connect with Becca at betterfasteracademy.com.

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How Napoleon ended the Holy Roman Empire

Napoleon and Francis II after the Battle of Austerlitz, painted by Antoine-Jean Gros in 1812

“This is the way the world ends / Not with a bang but a whimper”

T.S. Eliot wasn’t describing the dissolution of the Holy Roman Empire when he wrote those words in his poem, “The Hollow Men.” Nonetheless, his lines are an extremely apt way to describe the dissolution of the Holy Roman Empire, which ended quietly with a stroke of a pen over 200 years ago in August of 1806.

That’s when the last emperor decided it was his duty to abdicate, letting the dominion under his protection dissolve rather than allow Napoleon to usurp the role of Holy Roman Emperor and everything that came with it.

Emperor Charlemagne, by Albrecht Dürer (1471-1528)

The end of the empire was no surprise. By the summer of 1806, the end of the Holy Roman Empire had become inevitable.

Napoleon’s victory over Russia and Austria at the Battle of Austerlitz in December of 1805, and his formation of the Confederation of the Rhine the following July (after he convinced 16 German princes to renounce their allegiance to the Holy Roman Empire and join him) were fatal blows to the ancient regime.

Like the Roman Empire before it, the Holy Roman Empire lasted about a thousand years. It began in 800 AD, when Charlemagne had himself crowned as Holy Roman Emperor  in Rome by Pope Leo III.

During its nearly 1,000-year history, the Holy Roman Empire encompassed a web of territories in central Europe, including much of what is today Germany and Italy. At its height, it was a formidable medieval institution, an unbeatable force that combined the divine power of the pope with the temporal power of a monarch.

However, by the end of the 18th century, the Holy Roman Empire was, as Voltaire cynically remarked, neither holy, nor Roman, nor even an empire. The wars and political convulsions that resulted from the French Revolution weakened the realm, and it became a casualty of Napoleon’s insatiable thirst for conquest.

During the Regency era, some statesmen believed that once Napoleon was defeated the Holy Roman Empire would be restored, perhaps by the Congress of Vienna in 1814-15. It was a reasonable assumption; after all, presiding over the Congress was Francis I of Austria, who before 1806 was Francis II, the last Holy Roman Emperor. (That’s confusing, I know, but that’s politics for you.)

But that hope didn’t materialize when the Congress of Vienna re-drew the map of Europe in an effort to balance the power of its nations. The Holy Roman Empire did not make a comeback. Napoleon’s Confederation of the Rhine didn’t survive, either.

“The Holy Roman Empire including its members” – a double-headed eagle with coats of arms of its individual states, watercolor over woodcut print in paper by Jost de Negker, circa 1510

What did emerge from the deliberations was a new Germany made up of 39 states, with land from the two great powers of the day, Austria and Prussia, as well as many smaller kingdoms, including Bavaria, Saxony, and Hanover.

With that action, the Congress of Vienna sowed the seeds of German nationalism, a movement which grew and became a factor in two world wars a century later.

It’s hard for us to imagine today, after so much time has passed, what it must have been like for Europeans in the early 19th century to see the Holy Roman Empire fall apart.

Francis II, the last Holy Roman Emperor

They were no doubt aware that their ancient empire had lost much of its lands and political clout in the wake of Napoleon’s conquests, which had toppled monarchies across the Continent.

Still, the Holy Roman Empire had existed as a governing body for almost 10 centuries, and at least 30 generations had lived and died in its long shadow. In that summer of 1806 many Europeans must have felt that the world as they knew it was coming to an end.

To put it in perspective, the United States of America has been around a mere 247 years, yet I believe most U.S. citizens would feel acutely bereft if they suddenly lost their national identity.

However, an entity like the Holy Roman Empire doesn’t disappear that easily. Even though the empire became defunct, its influence didn’t end in 1806.

During the 19th century, the history and traditions of the Holy Roman Empire gave the fledgling country of Germany a foundation. And in the 20th century, Adolf Hitler was fascinated by the Holy Roman Empire and kept it in mind as he developed his Third Reich, which eventually led to many of the horrors of World War II.

The Imperial Crown

In particular, the Führer’s cruel and twisted ideas concerning a master Aryan race and the need to “purify” the German populace came out of his warped understanding of the mission of the empire’s fabled Teutonic Knights.

And while the Nazis famously looted and plundered a vast array of Europe’s art treasures during the war, one of Hitler’s top priorities was to capture the magnificent crown jewels that once belonged to the empire.

No doubt he dreamt of using them in the future to give added legitimacy to his coronation as the ruler of a gloriously resurrected Holy Roman Empire.

Fortunately, most of the Imperial Crown Jewels were rescued and are now kept in the Imperial Treasury at the Hofburg in Vienna, Austria. I’d like to see these jeweled relics someday; I think they serve as a potent reminder that nothing endures forever, not even a thousand-year-old empire.

In addition, for me the sight of the recovered crown jewels would also reinforce that other fundamental lesson of history — that the past, no matter how dead it may seem, is somehow always with us.

~~

Sources for this post include:

Hitler’s Holy Relics, A True Story of Nazi Plunder and the Race to Recover the Crown Jewels of the Holy Roman Empire, by Sidney D. Kirkpatrick, Simon & Schuster, Ltd, New York, New York, 2010

Heart of Europe, A History of the Holy Roman Empire, by Peter H. Wilson, The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts, 2016

The Holy Roman Empire by James Bryce, Wildside Press, Cabin John, Maryland, 2009

~~

Images courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Featured Member for November: Rue Allyn

This month Quizzing Glass chats with Rue Allyn, writer of heart-melting romance

QG:  What did you want to be when you were ten or twelve?

A coloratura soprano with the Metropolitan Opera

QG:  Who was your favorite author as a child?

Walter Farley

QG:  What authors would you most like to emulate?

Jude Knight, Caroline Warfield, Susan Elizabeth Phillips

QG:  What is your favorite beverage when reading? What is it the rest of the time? Same for both. I love Coca-Cola Zero, but I drink water most of the time.

QG: What advice would you give to writers just starting out?

 Learn your craft, join a professional author’s group

QG:  Do you have a daily writing schedule and goals? What are they?

Just to write every day.

QG:  Tell us about your current project or latest release.

 The Creole Duchess – Duchess Series Book 3; A duke in disguise, a Creole miss determined to go her own way, a curse, and two nations at war. Is love even possible?

A New Orleans Creole, Miss Celestine St. Cyr-Duval refuses to live under the thumb of some man chosen by her parents. Celie will do everything to keep freedom of choice for herself and others. But fate interferes in the form of a duke disguised as a British businessman. Caleb Elmond would find approval with her mother but both Celie and Caleb have secrets that put them on opposite sides of a great conflict and may destroy them both.

With the Battle of New Orleans looming, and these two strangers from warring countries compromise and protect each other, or will fear and betrayal end both their lives?

QG:  If your newest book is being made into a movie, who would you cast as the hero? Chris Hemsworth or a young Robert Downey Jr.

QG:  Is there a special quote or saying that motivates you as a writer?

An opportunity is a miracle waiting to happen, and a blank page is an opportunity.

QG:  Do you have a five-year plan for your writing? Where do you hope to be?

No, too much pressure

QG:  Pantser or Plotter or hybrid?

Yes, sorta, I guess, more pants than plot.

QG:  Indie or traditionally published?

Currently Indie

QG:  When is a book finished and what steps do you take to get it there?

A story is never finished, and the last part of this question would take pages for me to write even a half-baked response. Please note, I said story—not book. ‘Book’ is just one medium for a story, and it is the story that interests readers.

QG:  Would you like to travel back in time? Where would you go? What one thing would you take with you?

 NEVER. Scotland. Indoor plumbing.

QG:  What music do you play when writing?

Pop-Rock, Country, Broadway, and during the holidays Christmas Carols.

QG:  If you could visit one place on the entire planet, where would it be?

Somewhere I have not yet been, probably Europe. Specifically, Florence Italy.

QG:  What is the most surprising or amazing thing you discovered while researching a book?

  1. Napoleon may (emphasis on the MAY) have tried to commit suicide the night before signing his first abdication in April 1814. 2. General Andrew Jackson was the first person in the US to declare Martial Law. He did so in New Orleans on Dec. 16, 1814 in preparation for the Battle with the British 3. The 13th century was the first time a Pope abdicated .

QG:  What would surprise people most about you?

Couldn’t say, I’m fairly ordinary.

Author Bio: About Rue Allyn:  Award winning author of historical romances, Rue studied literature for far too many years before discovering that writing stories was much more fun than writing about them. Website: https://RueAllyn.com

Thanksgiving

Harvest Festival flowers in a church in Shrewsbury, England

It’s almost time to break out the pumpkin (or apple, or pecan) pies, candied yams, cranberry sauce, and, of course, roast turkey. For many Americans, a family meal featuring traditional fare is the basis of a Thanksgiving celebration. But you may surprised, as I was, at just how far back in history our Thanksgiving tradition is rooted.

A common belief is that the Pilgrims held the first Thanksgiving after sailing on the Mayflower to Plymouth, Massachusetts, in 1620 to set up a colony. However, the origins of this feast go back much further. People during the Regency era would have known about, and participated in, days of thanksgiving, although their observances likely included more praying and less feasting.

Thanksgiving as we know it can actually be traced back to pre-Christian Britain. The Saxons used to offer the first fruits of their harvest to their fertility gods, with a community supper to follow. Even after Christianity took hold on the British Isles, the tradition of a supper in thanksgiving for the harvest remained.

During the time of Henry VIII and the English Reformation, religious thanksgiving services became even more important. Days of thanksgiving were called not only for good harvests but also for special occasions, including the victory of England over the Spanish Armada in 1588, and the failure of the Gunpowder Plot in 1605. (That particular day of thanksgiving has morphed into Guy Fawkes Day.)

So, it’s no surprise that English settlers brought the concept of thanksgiving days with them when they came to America. However, the Pilgrims weren’t the first Europeans to hold a day of thanksgiving on American soil.

A shrine to the first US Thanksgiving, held in 1619 in Charles City County, Virginia

In 1619, a group of 38 English settlers sailed to Virginia to form a colony. The London Company (also known as the Virginia Company of London) that sponsored the voyage told the settlers that “the day of our ships arrival . . . shall be yearly and perpetually kept as a day of Thanksgiving.”  The colonists faithfully complied, writing the thanksgiving provision into their charter.

This documented thanksgiving tradition was established two years  before the Pilgrims conducted their own thanksgiving in 1621 in gratitude for a good harvest, as well as for surviving a brutal winter.

In England and her colonies thanksgiving days continued to be celebrated as needed, often declared by the Church of England and coupled with religious services and fasting. Military victories and recovery after plagues were occasions for a day of thanksgiving, in addition to gratitude for a bountiful harvest.

Today, Thanksgiving is a national holiday in the United States and Canada, celebrated on the fourth Thursday of November in the US and on the second Monday of October in Canada. It’s also officially and unofficially celebrated in a few other countries as well. In the United Kingdom, the Harvest Festival of Thanksgiving doesn’t have a specific date, but according to tradition it’s held either on or close to the Sunday of the harvest moon that is nearest the autumnal equinox.

Thanksgiving can mean many things to many people, but however you observe this day, I hope you have a happy one!

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Sources for this post include:

America’s Favorite Holidays, Candid Histories, by Bruce David Forbes, University of California Press, Oakland, California, 2015

Images courtesy of Wikimedia Commons and Pixabay

A Royal Tragedy with Far-Reaching Consequences

1918 engraving of the 1816 wedding of Princess Charlotte and Prince Leopold, held at Carlton House

Royal births should be happy events, a cause for proclamations and national celebrations. However, more than 200 years ago this month, a highly anticipated royal birth in Regency England ended in a tragedy that rocked the nation and set off a race to produce a legitimate heir to the crown.

Before we get into that, though, we have to start with a royal wedding.

In May of 1816, Princess Charlotte, daughter and only child of the Prince Regent, cajoled her father into allowing her to marry the man of her own choosing, Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld. It was a joyous occasion that led to what was by all accounts a happy marriage, though it was all too brief.

There was more good news for the royal couple soon after their marriage. By the fall of 1817 Charlotte and Leopold were expecting a child.

Charlotte went into labor on November 5. But then something went terribly wrong. The baby, a boy, was stillborn. And several hours later, at 2:30 a.m. on November 6, Charlotte herself died. She was only 21 years old.

This event shocked not only the Prince Regent but the kingdom as well, plunging the whole country into mourning. Everyone grieved for the young princess; linen drapers sold out of their stock of black cloth and even the poor wore black armbands.

Charlotte and Leopold, pictured by George Dawe in 1817

The Lord Chamberlain ordered widespread mourning attire for the court, decreeing that ladies were to wear black bombazine and muslin, with black crepe accessories. Gentlemen had to wear black clothes and plain cravats, with black accessories all the way down to their shoe buckles.

Two months of deepest mourning were observed before ladies of the court were permitted to transition to half-mourning, which included black silk garments with white accessories and grey dresses. It took several more months before these mourning rules were lifted and bright colors and luxurious fabrics could be worn once again.

However, the deaths of Princess Charlotte and her son were more than a tragedy for those who loved her; it meant that the line of succession was broken, which became a serious problem for the future of the monarchy.

The Prince Regent was 55 when his daughter died and he had no other heirs. He was unhappily married to Caroline of Brunswick and could barely tolerate the sight of his wife. The odds of their union producing another royal heir were nil.

To make matters worse, none of his equally middle-aged brothers had legitimate heirs, though some of them had sired plenty of illegitimate children. This situation propelled a rush to produce a suitable royal heir, preferably male.

The Prince Regent had fourteen brothers and sisters; the ones most involved in the race to beget an heir were the Prince’s eldest brothers: Frederick, William and Edward.

Frederick, who’d been married since 1791, had no children.

The marriage of Victoria and Albert in 1840, painted by George Hayter

The other two men did their best to answer the royal call of duty and secure the succession. In 1818 William and Edward dismissed their respective mistresses and got married.

Only Edward’s marriage produced a child, but the baby born in 1819 was a girl. However, as time went on, it became clear that she would have to suffice.

“Her Majesty’s Gracious Smile” – an 1887 photo of Victoria, looking grandmotherly, by Charles Knight.

When the Prince Regent became King George IV in 1820 and later died in 1830, he was succeeded by his brother William, the former Duke of Clarence, who was 64 years old. (The next in line to the throne, Frederick, had died three years earlier in 1827.)

And since William IV had no legitimate heirs (although he had 10 illegitimate children with his mistress, the actress Dorothea Jordan) when he died in 1837 the only legitimate heir that could be scrounged up was that girl, Edward’s daughter, now 18 years old. Edward himself had died in 1820.

You may have heard of her. Her name was Princess Alexandrina Victoria of Kent, and as Queen Victoria she went on to reign longer than any previous British monarch. Victoria’s reign lasted 63 years, a record that remained unbroken until 2022 when her great-great granddaughter, Queen Elizabeth II,  accumulated 70 years on the throne.

Queen Victoria and Prince Albert produced nine children, 42 grandchildren and 87 great-grandchildren. Victoria and Albert (while he was alive) arranged marriages for their nine children to various offspring of European royalty, and those children went on to bear royal children of their own, who in turn also found titled spouses on the Continent.

As a result of Queen Victoria’s matchmaking efforts, by the end of the 19th century most of the royal families of Europe and Great Britain were related in some way to each other, earning Queen Victoria the nickname “Grandmother of Europe.”

Queen Victoria depicted with her nine children, six of their spouses and 23 of her grandchildren in 1877

Today, one of Queen Victoria’s descendants is Prince George of Wales, who is her fifth great-grandson. He is the grandson of King Charles III (Victoria’s third great-grandson) and the son of Charles’s son and heir, Prince William (who is Victoria’s fourth great-grandson).

Someday 10-year-old Prince George may crowned as yet another King George, just like his ancestor the Prince Regent. And that  honor will come to him largely because of a double royal tragedy two centuries ago that led to a  teenager being crowned Queen of England and the creation of an enduring legacy.

 

Prince George of Wales at Queen Elizabeth’s Platinum Jubilee, 2022 (Photo by Andrew Parsons)

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Sources for this post include:

  • Laudermilk, Sharon and Hamlin, Teresa L., The Regency Companion, Garland Publishing Inc., New York & London, 1989.
  • Priestley, J.B., The Prince of Pleasure and his Regency 1811-20, Harper & Row, New York and Evanston, 1969.

Photos courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

 

Edward Despard and His failed Assassination Plot

Edward Marcus Despard

There must be something about the month of November and plots to kill the British king. The dastardly treason of Guy Fawkes and his band of conspirators is well-known, and the foiling of that plot is still celebrated more than 400 years after the event, marked with fireworks, parades and bonfires throughout Great Britain on November 5.

But what about Edward Despard? Where’s his bonfire?

Here’s what happened: in the fall of 1802 Colonel Edward Marcus Despard, a decorated Irish officer of the British Army who fought for the Crown during the American War of Independence, friend of Horatio Nelson, and for a time the designated superintendent of what would become the British Honduras, allegedly conspired to kill King George III.

On November 16, a week before the assassination was supposed to take place, Despard was arrested and charged with high treason. Following his trial, he was condemned to die by hanging, drawing and quartering, the last person in Britain to ever receive such a severe and painfully redundant death sentence. Before his execution on February 21, 1803, his sentence was commuted to the less elaborate but equally redundant procedure of hanging and beheading.

At the time of his arrest, Despard was meeting with a group of about 40 laborers at a tavern in Lambeth. Government informants would testify that the group’s plan was to assassinate the king, seize the Tower of London and the Bank of London, and incite uprisings throughout the city. The plot also supposedly involved the planting of several underground bombs.

Like Despard, many of the conspirators were Irishmen who had done military service, and many of them were sympathetic to the cause of Irish independence, especially following the violent suppression by British soldiers of the Irish Rebellion in 1798.

Horatio Nelson

Despard himself was suspected of being involved in that rebellion, and he was arrested and held without trial for nearly three years in a series of prisons. He was released without being charged in 1801.

But this time there would be no such happy ending for Despard. Even the campaigning on his behalf by his wife, Catherine, didn’t sway the justices.

Catherine was a woman of African descent whom Despard met and married while stationed in the Caribbean. The Colonel brought his wife and their son with him when he came home in 1790 after nearly two decades of military service abroad. Their interracial marriage was highly unusual and perhaps even unique in England at this point in history.

In the New World, Edward and Catherine were advocates for the rights of freed black slaves, which didn’t make them popular with the white settlers. While Despard was in prison in London, Catherine worked not only to secure his release but also lobbied to improve prison living conditions for her husband and other prisoners.

Catherine persuaded Lord Nelson, who had fought alongside Despard in the 1780 San Juan Expedition, to appear as a character witness at her husband’s trial.

Despard addressing the crowd moments before his execution

Despite Nelson’s testimony, Despard was found guilty and executed with six co-conspirators at the Horsemonger Lane Gaol in Southwark, London. He proclaimed his innocence from the gallows in front of about 20,000 people, the largest crowd ever gathered for a public event up till then.

That record stood for only two more years, when it was broken by the huge crowds who gathered in London and thronged the Thames riverbanks to witness Lord Nelson’s funeral procession in January 1806, following the admiral’s death at the Battle of Trafalgar the previous October.

So, like Guy Fawkes, Despard was accused of plotting to kill the king. His plan involved explosives and was thwarted, also like Fawkes’ plan. He and his co-conspirators were publicly executed, again like Fawkes and his men. (Fawkes, however, actually fell or jumped from the gallows ladder right before his hanging and broke his neck, dying instantly.)

In fact, this chant for Guy Fawkes Day could be easily adapted with a few minor tweaks to commemorate Despard’s plot:

“Remember, remember the Fifth of December, Gunpowder treason and plot;/ For I see no reason Gunpowder Treason should ever be forgot.”

And yet, Despard remains largely forgotten just the same. If you’re among the those who celebrated Guy Fawkes Day this year, spare a moment’s thought for poor Edward Despard. The only thing worse than a failed assassination attempt is a failed attempt no one remembers.

Despard in 1803, an etching by Barlow taken from a sketch made during Despard’s trial

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Sources for this post include:

Images courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

November traditions

Image by Malcolm West, from Pixabay.com

 

Halloween may be over, but as we get into early November there are a few more British traditions that were likely familiar to anyone living in Regency England.

The most obvious one is Guy Fawkes Day. November 5, 1605, is the date that the infamous Gunpowder Plot was foiled, preventing Guy Fawkes and his co-conspirators from blowing up the House of Lords in London. The traitors were caught, and as you might imagine, met a gruesome end a few months later.

Caricature of Guy Fawkes by George Cruikshank, 1840

The capture of the conspirators has been celebrated in Britain ever since, with activities such as church services, parades, fireworks, effigies, and bonfires. Celebrations also include children going door-to-door with a dummy figure of Guy Fawkes asking for money, i.e.  “a penny for the Guy.”

Why did asking for money become a feature of Guy Fawkes Day celebrations? One theory is that it has something to do with the tradition of “souling” (or “soaling”).

Souling is an ancient begging ritual that originated during medieval times. It is especially associated with Hallowmas, a collective term for the three consecutive Christian holy days in late October and early November.

These holy days are October 31 (All Saints’ Day Eve or Halloween), November 1 (All Saints’ Day), and November 2 (All Souls’ Day). Other terms for Hallowmas are Allhallowtide, Hallowtide, and Allsaintstide.

During the Middle Ages “soulers” would go around their villages at Hallowmas, knocking on doors asking for food or money, and offering prayers for deceased family members in return. The villagers gave their visitors homemade “soul cakes,” sweetly spiced little pastries filled with raisins or currents and marked with the sign of the cross.

According to one old belief, each soul cake that was eaten would release one soul from the eternal waiting room that is purgatory and into heaven.

At first, it was only adult men who would go souling, but over time most of the begging was done by children and the poor. They would go to people’s front doors singing or chanting words like “A soul cake! Have mercy for all Christian souls for a soul cake!”

Some argue that there’s a link between medieval soulers going door-to-door during Hallowmas begging for cakes and coins and modern-day trick-or-treaters going door-to-door on Halloween begging for candy. However, the little ghosts and goblins that come to your door these days are not likely to offer prayers in return for their Snickers and Butterfinger bars.

But unlike treat-or-treat candy, soul cakes weren’t given out on just one day; souling was practiced during Christmastide as well as during  the Hallowmas season.

Hoodeners in Deal, Kent, 1909

Another ancient practice that includes going door-to-door is a pagan winter folk custom, native to the southeast region of England, called hoodening. It’s possible this folk tradition can trace its origins to fertility rituals and horse sacrifices practiced by the Romans and Norsemen.

Hoodening involves a man wearing a white sheet and a wooden horse’s head (fitted with hinged jaws that could snap) romping around town with a group of men and boys.

The hoodener or costumed man would trot to a threshold, wait till the door was opened and leap at the people inside. Then, instead of calling the local constable, the occupants of the house would give the hoodener and his rowdy friends ale and other gifts. During the Christian era, this “horsing around” would customarily take place during the Christmas season.

Far from being a dusty relic of the past, hoodening had a revival in the 20th century, and more recently hoodening groups have sprung up in Kent.

Soul cakes

The tradition of souling is also being kept alive today, in no small part due to the efforts of the English Heritage Trust. This year from Oct. 28-31 visitors were invited to drop by after hours to trick or treat for soul cakes at 13 of the English Heritage sites (which include 400 historic buildings located all over England).

If you like, you can sing while you soul. In the 1960s the popular folk trio Peter, Paul and Mary adapted a medieval souling song and made it part of their repertoire.  You can find the group’s hauntingly beautiful rendition of A ‘Soalin’ on YouTube.

Here is a sample of the lyrics:

Soal, a soal, a soal cake,
Please good missus a soul cake
An apple, a pear, a plum, a cherry,
Any good thing to make us all merry,
One for Peter, two for Paul
Three for Him who made us all
“The Christian practice of souling” pictured in St. Nicholas: An Illustrated Magazine for Young Folks, 1882.

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Sources for this post include:

  • “English Heritage sites to give out ‘soul cakes’ to Halloween visitors,” by Mark Brown, The Guardian, Oct 26, 2023.
  • “Hoodening Through the Ages,” article from Hoodening.org.uk  
  • America’s Favorite Holidays, Candid Histories, by Bruce David Forbes, The University of California Press, Oakland, California, 2015
  • Holiday Symbols and Customs, 3rd edition, Sue Ellen Thompson, Omnigraphics, Detroit, MI, 2003

Images courtesy of Wikimedia Commons and Pixabay

A Regency ghost and more tales of haunted theaters

 

Joseph Grimaldi as Clown Joey, by George Cruikshank, 1820

What is it about ghosts and theaters? There seems to be something about the excitement and intense emotions exhibited during a performance that encourages spirits to hang around, like afterlife groupies hoping to get invited backstage.

In my last post I talked about the ghosts who haunt the Theatre Royal Bath. However, ghostly apparitions haunt theatres throughout Britain. In the spirit of Halloween, I’ll describe a few more of Britain’s scariest theater ghosts, including the ghost of an English actor who was one of the most popular entertainers of the Regency era.

 Four ghosts who haunt the Theatre Royal Brighton 

Sarah Bernhardt

This theater reportedly boasts not one but four ghosts, according to one newspaper account. There’s a Grey Lady, naturally, which seems to be a must-have apparition for old theaters in Britain.

This particular Grey Lady is assumed to be the ghost of Mrs. Elizabeth Nye Chart, who successfully ran the theater from 1876 to 1892, following the death of her husband. Actors, stage technicians and crew claim to have seen her.

The ghosts of a man and two children are also apparently roaming the halls.

But the most famous ghost associated with the Theatre Royal Brighton is that of Sarah Bernhardt.

The legendary French actress damaged her knee during a performance at the theater in 1894, an injury which may have led to the amputation of her leg in 1915.

That sounds like a good reason for her to haunt the place.

A ghostly nun at the Theatre Royal York

The Theatre Royal York has the distinction of being built on the site of a medieval hospital that was run by an order of nuns, so naturally one would expect nuns to haunt the theater as well.

And apparently that’s the case. Actors and others have seen a ghostly apparition in a soft grey habit with a white veil in the auditorium.

This Lady in Grey has a reputation as a benevolent spirit, however. Seeing her appear in the dress circle on the night of a performance is a good sign; it means the show will be a success.

The specter of a gifted clown at the Theatre Royal Drury Lane 

Now we come to a couple of London’s most haunted theaters, including one that has been described as the most haunted theater on planet Earth — the Theatre Royal Drury Lane.

At over 350 years old, this theater has witnessed thousands of performances, which translates to lots of opportunities for ghost legends to develop. Since 1663, the theater has been rebuilt four times on the same site, with the “modern” building standing today erected in 1812.

Grimaldi onstage at the Theatre Royal Drury Lane in his final years, by George Cruikshank

One ghost, known as the Man in Grey, wears the 18th century garb of a cloak (grey of course), a wig, and a tricorne hat. Witnesses say they’ve seen him walking around the theater’s upper circle before vanishing into a wall.

No one knows for sure who the Man in Grey might have been, but some think he’s associated with the skeleton that was found in a secret room at the theater that was discovered by builders in the 1870s.

The ghost of Joseph Grimaldi, beloved actor, dancer, and pantomime clown during the Regency period, also haunts the Theatre Royal Drury Lane, while over at the Theater Royal Haymarket the 19th century actor, theater manager and playwright John Baldwin Buckstone appears.

The performers and crew who have worked at London’s two Theatre Royals have many stories about witnessing ghost sightings and other paranormal events. For example, actors Patrick Stewart and Judi Dench, along with a long list of others, claim to have seen Buckstone’s ghost at the Haymarket.

Other London theater ghosts 

Of course, these two Theatre Royals aren’t the only haunted theaters in London.

There is the terrifying severed head that appears at the Lyceum Theatre. A story goes that in the 1880s some theater patrons watching a performance from the balcony looked down over the auditorium below and saw the ghostly head laying on a woman’s lap.

Terriss’s murder, as shown in The Illustrated Police News, 1897

Over at the Adelphi Theatre, 19th century actor William Terriss is blamed for all sorts of poltergeist activity. Terriss was stabbed to death by an extra at the theater’s stage door in 1897, which would be enough to make anyone carry a grudge into the afterlife.

Besides haunting the Adelphi, Terriss has also been seen at the London Underground’s Covent Garden station, which was built after his death. Perhaps he just wants a bigger audience for his ghostly appearances.

Finally, there’s Arthur Bourchier, an actor who died in 1927 and has reportedly stuck around ever since as a ghost. A popular actor especially noted for his Shakespeare roles, for many years Bourchier also managed the Garrick Theater. Now, apparently, he haunts it.

Sudden door slamming, electrical faults, knocking, unexplained television channel changes, floral scents associated with long-dead performers wafting through the air – these are examples of the paranormal events reported at the theaters.

Not Stephen King-level scary, but perhaps enough to make most people think twice about being alone in an old London theater at night.

 

 

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Sources for this post include:

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Images courtesy of Wikimedia Commons