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Category: History

This week in 1797, the French invaded Britain.

No kidding. We tend to think of 1066 as the last invasion, but a far less auspicious attempt took place in February, 1797, at a town called Fishguard in Wales. And it’s a great, bizarre story that has trappings of Gilbert & Sullivan and a heroine of a certain age.

The idea was that members of the French Légion Noire would storm Bristol, release the citizens from the king’s tyranny, and, march inland conquering all. But it didn’t work out that way. They were blown off course, and the Légion Noire was not so much a crack regiment as a regiment of crackheads, “the worst soldiers ever,” according to one of the commenters on this video. Most of them had been culled from prisons.

The first thing the gallant invaders did was to get drunk; a Portugese ship had grounded recently on the coast with a cargo of wine. Then, after some looting, they began to mutiny. And the good people of Fishguard, not very keen on the invaders gobbling up their wine and trashing their church, did not flock to the tricouleur.

Then things really got pear-shaped for the French who didn’t realize that Lord Cawdor, commander of the local militia, was hopelessly outnumbered. Had they been better soldiers things might have gone very differently. There’s a legend that the French, who probably couldn’t focus too well, saw jemsome local women in the Welsh national costume of red cloaks and tall black hats, and thought they were English soldiers. A tapestry on display in Fishguard depicts the legendary Jemima Fawr, (Jemima the Great) who, armed with a pitchfork, captured twelve soldiers, locked them in the church, and went out for more. She was 47 years old.

Two days after landing the French surrendered. A peace treaty was signed in the Royal Oak Inn on February 25.

The-Royal-OakTo add to the farcical elements of the story, the French officers broke their parole and escaped in Lord Cawdor’s yacht. Definitely not cricket.

What I love about this story is that it has so many bizarre, incredible elements. What if the French had landed in Bristol, kept out of the pubs, and succeeded? (I used this in my book Jane and the Damned. If you’re going to have Jane Austen become a vampire you can do just about anything else you want). Or landed in Brighton–that was one of the hotspots for an invasion, which is why the regiment was sent there in P&P, not purely because it was a major party town.

Do you know any strange but true historical facts that are begging to have a story built around them?

 

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As I think I’ve mentioned here on several occasions, this summer Mr Fraser, our daughter (who turns 11 in two months), and I will be going to Europe this summer, among other things to attend the bicentennial reenactment of the Battle of Waterloo.

We’re going to be there for nearly four weeks, so there will be far more to our trip than just Waterloo. While some of the trip has nothing to do with my Regency research interests–e.g. the five nights we’ll be spending in a cottage in the Dordogne River valley near Sarlat–we’re planning a week in Spain that’s turning into The Frasers’ Excellent Roman Ruins and Peninsular War Battlefield Road Trip Adventure.

I’m still researching the details, but at this point it looks like I’ll get to feed my Wellington obsession at the following sites:

Vitoria, where in June 1813 Wellington trounced Jourdan and the British army captured the French baggage train, laden with treasure Joseph Bonaparte and his courtiers had seized from Madrid–the incident that opens my 2013 novella, A Dream Defiant.

Salamanca, where Wellington, who is primarily regarded as a brilliant defensive general, proved himself pretty damn capable on the attack as well. As Maximilien Foy, one of the French generals there, put it:

“This battle is the most cleverly fought, the largest in scale, the most important in results, of any that the English have won in recent times. It brings up Lord Wellington’s reputation almost to the level of that of Marlborough. Up to this day we knew his prudence, his eye for choosing good positions, and the skill with which he used them. But at Salamanca he has shown himself a great and able master of manoeuvring. He kept his dispositions hidden nearly the whole day: he allowed us to develop our movement before he pronounced his own: he played a close game: he utilized the oblique order in the style of Frederick the Great.”

Badajoz, site of a bloody siege and storming followed by brutal and shameful pillaging in April 1812–and another battled that’s shown up in my writing, in my 2010 debut, The Sergeant’s Lady.

Talavera, the 1809 victory that first raised Wellington to the nobility as a viscount.

And last but very far from least, we’ll end up in Madrid, where we’ll visit the Prado and I’ll be able to see many of Goya’s works, including ones like the above illustrating the horror and brutality of war–something I try my best never to forget even as I write adventurous romances with soldier heroes.

I’m more thrilled than I can say that this trip I’ve been planning and dreaming of for a decade is now just a few short months away, and I can hardly wait to come back with pictures and stories to fill months of blog posts!

comfort 1815 no drawers

Comfort, 1815

 

I’ve been mulling over ideas for my first “official” post as a Risky, and in the end, I’m falling back on clothing (shocking, I know, LOL!). I thought I’d do a post about “risky” clothing, or drawers. After all, what’s more risky than a risqué garment that we now think of as a necessity!

Knee-length drawers are reported to have been worn by women as early as the turn of the 19th century, but they were considered fast and unladylike, and were not commonly adopted from what I can tell. I’ve consulted with a lot of costume historians and museum curators over the years, and none of them see them as a common garment in the records, household accounts, or as extant garments before the Victorian period, really.

1810 2nd verision gilray drawers

Gilray,1810

They had a split crotch, usually being made up of two entirely separate legs on a drawstring waistband. An illustration from 1810 (included below) shows a lady wearing them, so it can be construed that they were somewhat accepted by then, but I do wonder as other images in the series seem to concentrate on highlighting the more deceptive aspects of a woman’s toilette (such as wigs).

 

1820lawndrawers

Woven linen drawers, c. 1820

 

The extant pairs we DO have from the Regency all seem to date from the 1820s. They have a split crotch, usually being made up of two entirely separate legs on a drawstring waistband.

An illustration from 1810 shows a lady wearing them, so it can be construed that they were becoming more accepted by then, but I would still hazard that they were not a universal.

stare case

Exhibition Stare Case, 1811 Click for a larger image!

And I would make that guess because of other images that clearly show them as not being worn (such as Comfort at the top of the post and Exhibition Stare Case, left).

So it’s always worth remembering that the daring, fast, risky move in the Regency period was to put on a pair of drawers. I’d love to see a book where the hero is scandalized by discovering his lady love’s undies, and I fully expect that if anyone can write that book, it’s one of the marvelous women I now share this blog with.

I look forward to seeing what everyone comes up with to talk about in 2015!

 

The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York has been running a lovely costume exhibit (“Death Becomes Her”, which closes tomorrow) covering mourning fashions roughly 1820-1920. I was invited to see it with a friend who knows how much I love costume history, and we recently spent seven hours at the museum, viewing many things in addition to the costume exhibit. We took a lot of photos –some will turn up in future blogposts! It was exciting to see two real examples of mourning gowns, from 1820 and 1824, that were worn at the end of our period. Don’t you love museums?

Met Museum-Widow & Child Mourning DressesThe Regency era technically ended on January 29, 1820, when the old mad King George III died and Prinny succeeded to the throne. One reason his Coronation wasn’t held until the following year had to do with mourning customs –it wasn’t seemly for the royal family or the bereaved country to hold a grand celebration too soon after the death of the old monarch.

Mourning customs followed by the upper classes at the personal level were even more de rigueur when it came to royal mourning, and the British had seen quite a lot of that by 1820. In November, 1817, Prinny’s only child, Princess Charlotte, died after giving birth to a stillborn baby. The old king’s Queen Consort, Charlotte, died in 1818. Prinny’s brother, the Duke of Kent, died just six days before their father, on January 23, 1820, so there was double mourning then. (The duke had won the race to produce the new heir to the throne with the birth of his daughter, Victoria, only eight months earlier.)

Met Museum-1820 Mourning dressIt’s not known if this 1820 dress exhibited at the Met was worn for the decreed royal mourning or for a personal loss, or both, but its sheer overlay on the bodice and sheer sleeves were very fashionable. Compare the 1818  illustration below.

My friend and I also loved this 1824 Scottish gown (below) embellished with ribbon trim and large scroll appliqués around the hem. But you can see clearly how the fashionable lady’s silhouette was changing from the slim columnar shape favored in the earlier years of the Regency!

Met Museum-1824 Scottish mourning gownWearing black for mourning dates as far back as the ancient Romans. As social mourning customs evolved, they dictated all levels of behavior –not only what you could and couldn’t do, but also what you were expected to wear, right down to the types of fabrics, for several distinct stages of mourning.

Widows were expected to mourn for at least two years, one of full mourning and one of the lighter half-mourning. Socializing was proscribed for at least six months to a year. Widowed men were not subject to the same expectations! The rules were less severe for the losses of other family members: a year to mourn parents and children, six months for siblings and grandparents, three months for aunts and uncles, and six weeks for cousins. Servants, and anyone in uniform, such as the military, wore black armbands. Door knockers were swathed in black to serve notice when a household was in mourning.

Met Museum-1818 Regency Illustration

1818 Mourning Eveningwear

Naturally, the Regency fashionable were guided in all this by such venerable tomes as Ackermann’s Repository. (Research tip: you can find issues online by searching www.archive.org.) The February issue for 1820 features a number of examples of mourning dress, for after all, one needed to carry the mourning through all occasions in the course of a day. How do you like this walking dress, or these two versions of evening gowns?

Ackermann's Mourning 1820- Walking Dress

Ackermann's Mourning 1820 - Evening Dress

Ackermann's Mourning 1820- Evening Dress-2

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The rules for public mourning were announced by the Lord Chamberlain’s office, and could vary. Prinny, now the uncrowned George IV, “in consideration of the interests of trade” declared a “shortened” period of public mourning for his father, essentially three months. The first stage lasted until March 19, just over six weeks of wearing bombazine and crape. The so-called “first change” or second mourning called for “plain black silk” with “French grey bombasine” for undress, until April, and then colored ribbons and flowers could be added to the black silk, or white with black trimmings could also then be allowed. Ackermann’s noted that in addition to French gray bombazine, pelisses made of gray levantine (trimmed with black velvet), and some “high dresses of poplin” (trimmed with black gauze or net) as well as gros de Naples and corded silk had been seen. Mourning was to end on April 30.

The exhibit at the Met offered a lot of fascinating details about the fabrics used for mourning clothes. For instance, crape was favored, they said, because while it satisfied the first stage requirement of having no sheen, its fine weave and flexibility made it very suitable to be pleated or crimped or shaped into purely decorative ornaments that allowed the wearer to be fashionable while still following the rules of mourning.

Met Museum-2 Ladies -1840s-2While styles changed radically over the course of the 19th century, I noticed the same fabrics continued in use throughout. I have to include this picture of two dresses from the 1840’s, just for Susanna. Note the model’s “spaniel curls”!

I also have to include this photo (below) of two gorgeous sequin-covered 1902 evening gowns worn by Queen Alexandra (Victoria’s daughter-in-law) in half-mourning colors after Victoria’s death –they are mauve and purple–for Elena, because they are 100% sparkly!!

Met Museum-1902 Queen Alexndra Eve GownsHowever, advances of the Industrial Revolution: fabrics more available and less expensive, improved black dyes, and the boom in ready-made clothes after the invention of the sewing machine, served to support and spread the observance of mourning customs to the middle classes and beyond (more than Queen Victoria’s long mourning for Prince Albert). The “mourning trade” became big business after the Regency, with entire warehouses catering to the need for mourning attire. No doubt they had a vested interest in encouraging the fashion for public display, but if you went too far, you could be criticized for being ostentatious or, worse, insincere in your grief!

TPE orig coverMy heroine in The Persistent Earl is a widow. While I didn’t know as much about mourning customs and dress when I wrote that book as I do now, I tried to keep Daphne dressed appropriately in half-mourning colors. You may imagine my shock when I first saw the cover Signet gave that 1995 book –the heroine is depicted in a lovely, bright gold satin gown! When readers have asked me what scene in the story it represents, I’ve cheerfully told them it’s from AFTER the story ends. 🙂

Today, the complex social rules of mourning that held sway during the Regency and flourished during the 19th century are mostly obsolete. People follow the customs dictated by their religions, but mourning is generally a private affair. Governments may order flags at half-staff for the death of important public figures, but there are no society-wide expectations or judgment laid down. Attitudes about mourning have changed. Do you think that is for the best? Are we better off sucking it up and trying to function as normally as we can manage instead of wallowing in our sorrows and making a public show of our grief? Or was there a kernel of common sense that we’ve lost underlying these old rules, that gave the grieving some recognition and respect, a bit of protection, structure, and time to recover? Please comment, for I’d really like to know what you think!

“She’d worn that color, or gray in its place, for three years now. And unrelenting black for a year before that. It had been a bit of a badge, she realized, a uniform of sorts. One never had to worry about who one was when one’s clothing proclaimed it so loudly.”
Julia Quinn, When He Was Wicked

Today is Australia Day! Or, if you are in Australia, then perhaps yesterday was Australia Day. This national holiday is marked by community festivities, family get-togethers, and citizenship ceremonies welcoming new citizens. Like our Fourth of July.

Australia, of course, had a much different beginning.

In the 1700s Great Britain had been using the American colonies as penal colonies, but the War of Independence put a stop to that. In need of a new land to which they might send convicts, Great Britain decided on what was then called New South Wales, one of the lands Captain Cook had explored. Cook recommended it for colonization.

The_First_Fleet_entering_Port_Jackson,_January_26,_1788,_drawn_1888_A9333001hThe First Fleet left England on May 13, 1787. It consisted of 11 ships, including two Royal Navy vessels, three store ships and six convict transports. More than 1,000 convicts were transported, but on board all those ships were also over 400 others: ships crews, marines, officials and passengers, and wives and children of all of them.

The voyage was harrowing, marred by extreme heat, rain, water rationing, and an astonishing number of vermin infestations. The voyage took over 250 days to complete. Remarkably, only 48 people died.

View_of_Botany_BayThe fleet first attempted landing in Botany Bay, but it was found to be more unsuitable than Captain Cook had led them to believe. Captain Arthur Phillip, the man commissioned to found the penal colony, explored the coast and discovered a better harbor and a better place to anchor, which he named Sydney Cove. On January 26, 1788, Phillip weighed anchor at Sydney Cove, marking the official beginning of the colony.

800px-Thomas_Watling_-_A_Direct_North_General_View_of_Sydney_Cove,_1794The first years of the settlement were difficult ones. The soil was poor, the climate unfamiliar and the many of the convicts knew nothing of farming. The marines were poorly led and less than competent, but Phillip eventually appointed convicts to oversee matters. Eventually, the penal colony prospered.

1808 was the first recorded celebration marking the anniversary of the First Fleet landing. The colonists began to feel a sense of pride and patriotism and marked the anniversary with “drinking and merriment” according to Historian Manning Clarke.

1818 marked the first official celebration of the anniversary. That puts it right in “our” time period!

Have you read any Regencies that involved the Australian penal colonies? I remember one where the heroine’s brother and father were transported and, in the end, the hero becomes the colony’s governor so she can search for them. Can’t remember the title, though. Anyone remember that one?

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