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.

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

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.

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.

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

November in Georgian History

The Napoleonic Wars Finally End: the Second Treaty of Paris signed November 20, 1815

It is tempting to assume the wars ended at Waterloo on June 18, 1815, with the surrender of the French. In fact, the French army fled the field in shocking disarray without so much as a rear guard action pursued through the night by Blucher and the Prussians. A full-scale invasion of France followed with multiple skirmishes and small battles as Napoleon himself fled south and ultimately reached Paris to face a hastily formed provisional government. There had been no surrender.

The Emperor abdicated in favor of his son, Napoleon II, on June 22—four full days after Waterloo. The provisional government, however, rejected his son, and he was forced to leave Paris. He attempted to flee to America before falling into the hands of the British navy. The provisional government attempted to negotiate terms of surrender, but coalition troops demanded nothing less than the restoration of King Louis XVIII, and it wasn’t until June 2 that hostilities finally ceased. Louis entered Paris on July 8. Months of negotiations over reparations, restorations, and even looted art, resulted in the treaty that finally ended the wars that had embroiled Europe for decades. November 20 marks the formal end of the Napoleonic Wars.

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!

~~~

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)

***

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

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.

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

Sources for this post include:

“Despard, James Marcus”, contributed by James Quinn, Dictionary of Irish Biography, retrieved June 24, 2022
“United Englishmen”, by Michael T. Davis, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, published online October 4, 2008

Images courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

November traditions

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.

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.

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.

~~~

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

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.

***

Sources for this post include:

“Inside the world’s most haunted theatre,” by Andrew Dickson, The Guardian, October 29, 2015
“The chilling stories of the 5 most haunted theatres in London,” by Andrew Walker, My London, January 30, 2021
“La divine Sarah,” by Suzanne Hinton, French Brighton blog, March 25, 2018
“Ghosts,” The Argus, February 2007
“Grey Lady,” The York Ghost Merchants

Images courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Ghosts of Bath’s Theatre Royal

With Halloween approaching, I thought it would be fun to talk about ghosts. And not just any ghosts, but the ghosts that haunt Britain’s historic theaters.

These old theaters are rife with ghosts and psychic phenomena. Curiously, a lot of those ghosts are known individually as the Grey Lady, though they each have a different origin story.

There are reports of Grey Lady ghosts in the Theatre Royal York, the Theatre Royal Brighton, and the Theatre Royal Bath, to name just a few.

For this post, I’ll concentrate on the Theatre Royal Bath, which is arguably the most haunted theater in Britain. That distinction may be well deserved. From what I can tell, the whole place is crawling with ghosts and poltergeists.

A Sweet-Smelling Spook

The Theatre Royal Bath’s Grey Lady smells of jasmine and appears in 18th century gowns, her hair adorned with feathers. The story goes that she committed suicide, though there are three different accounts as to why.

In one account she killed herself after her lover died in a duel. Another story has it that she was in love with an actor, and she would sit in one of the top boxes to watch him perform. When he didn’t return her love, she killed herself.

The third version also involves unrequited love between an actor and a theatergoer, except the lady was the actor and it was the theatergoer who spurned her.

Consistent in all three accounts is the Grey Lady’s suicide. In most versions the lady hanged herself behind a door. However, at least one variation has the lady jumping to her death from a high window.

The Grey Lady manifests itself as a smoky apparition, either solid or wispy, and is sometimes seen in the corridor of the theater’s dress circle. However, the ghost’s usual haunt is the top left box, facing the stage. It doesn’t seem to bother anybody, but people who have seen the Grey Lady say the apparition has a melancholy air, making its viewers feel depressed and miserable, as if she transferred her despair to them.

A Pub Poltergeist

That’s not all the spooky stuff going on in the Theatre Royal. There’s the Phantom Doorman lurking by the entrance, believed to be the ghost of a man who once worked at the theater. Only cast members have seen him.

And the Garrick’s Head public house, adjacent to the theater, has its share of strange phenomena, too.

The Garrick’s Head bears the name of famed 18th century actor David Garrick. The pub is in the building that was once the grand home of Richard “Beau” Nash, a famous dandy in Georgian England.

Nash is best known for his role as the Master of Ceremonies and undisputed social leader of Bath when the spa town was a fashionable destination in the 18th century.

Like the Theatre Royal, the pub is also apparently haunted by the Grey Lady. There are reports of other paranormal activity in the pub as well.

Every year a blood stain mysteriously appears in the exact same spot on the pub’s floor. And once, in the 1990s, a cash register was reportedly hurled several feet across the bar by an unseen force.

An Airborne Apparition

Before we leave the topic of theater ghosts, a unique specter relatively new to the Theatre Royal deserves to be mentioned.

In 1948, a dead tortoiseshell butterfly was found on stage while the company was preparing to mount a children’s pantomime. Shortly after the deceased insect was discovered, the show’s manager and producer, Reg Maddox, dropped dead of a heart attack on stage while lighting a scene.

You might think there would be a scary ghost story to follow. However, people believe Maddox haunts the theater in the form of a benevolent butterfly, which is not very terrifying.

Seeing the winged insect fluttering in the rafters before a pantomime means the performance will be a hit. In addition, tortoiseshell butterflies seem to show up out of nowhere, to greet visiting stars or encourage performers.

In fact, every time Reg the butterfly ghost makes an appearance, he is greeted with affection.

After all, how scary can a butterfly be?

For additional information and anecdotes see:

“The Butterfly, Grey Lady and other Ghosts… Waymarking.com
“Theatre Royal Bath,” Mysterious Britain and Ireland, November 21, 2018

Images courtesy of Wikimedia Commons and Pixabay

September in Georgian History

September 29, 1829
An act of Parliament, at the request of Sir Robert Peel, created the Greater London Metropolitan Police Force, later known as Scotland Yard. The men, afterward nicknamed “bobbies,” were named after Sir Robert himself.

Portrait of Sir Robert Peel by Robert Richard Scanlan

“BLEST IF THEY HASNT PUT , ON A BOBBY! PRETTY STATE WE RE COMIN TO, WITH THEIR CENTRALISATION! LETS CUT TO LAMBETH.” PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.1866

July in Georgian History

The Napoleonic war—or, more properly, wars were long and costly. Not every battle ended in victory. On July 25, 1797, Britain lost one and almost lost a treasure. Admiral Horatio Nelson led an ill-fated attack on the island of Tenerife. A cannonball hit Nelson as he stepped ashore. The result—a compound fracture and a severed artery—could have killed him. Quick action saved his life at the cost of his arm. His reputation as a hero was enhanced in spite of the loss.

Nelson Wounded at Tenerife by Richard Westall

June in Georgian History

The most famous June event in British History was, of course, The Battle of Waterloo, which Maureen Mackay so eloquently presented last week. The wars had dragged on for decades. It is interesting to note that in the years that followed the emperor’s defeat significant firsts include things considerably more peaceful in nature.

June 22, 1814, (with Napoleon in exile on Elba) The Marylebone Cricket Club (which had formalized the rules of the game in 1797) and Hertfordshire played the first-ever cricket match at England’s Lord’s Cricket Ground.

June 10, 1829, The Oxford team won the first-ever Oxford and Cambridge University Boat Race, aka “The Boat Race.” Cambridge won the 168th this past March.

A Game of Cricket (The Royal Academy Club in Marylebone Fields), artist unknown

The Radical’s Arms and The Six Acts

George Cruikshank, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

This rather nasty cartoon appears, ostentatiously, to mock the French Revolution and often has that as a caption. It certainly includes badges and symbols of the French radicals. Trampled under the feet of the central figures, however, are the Magna Carta, the crown, and symbols of the established church.

The image was published in November 1819. Three months before, the 15th Hussars and the Cheshire Volunteers attacked a group of 60,000 demonstrators in Manchester. It came to be called The Peterloo Massacre. It is an expression of the fears of the upper classes.

The rally had been called to focus on the depressed economy, the price of bread, and the need for political reform. The industrial cities of the north had no voice in Parliament. It was by all accounts peaceful and orderly. A march of that size by the populous fed upper-class terror of revolution and the Reign of Terror. Nervous officials touched off the unprovoked attack. That November, at about the time this cartoon was published, the powers that be pushed through The Six Acts, six reactionary and repressive laws. They were:

The Training Prevention Act made any person attending a meeting for the purpose of receiving training or drill in weapons liable to arrest and transportation.
The Seizure of Arms Act gave local magistrates the power to search any private property for weapons and seize them and arrest the owners.
The Misdemeanours Act reduced the opportunities for bail and allowed for speedier court processing in order to push through faster convictions.
The Seditious Meetings Act required the permission of a sheriff or magistrate in order to convene any public meeting of more than 50 people if the subject of that meeting was concerned with “church or state” matters.
The Blasphemous and Seditious Libels Act (or Criminal Libel Act) toughened the existing laws to provide for more punitive sentences for the authors of such writings.
The Newspaper and Stamp Duties Act extended and increased taxes to cover those publications which had escaped duty by publishing opinions and not news.

May in Georgian History

May 5, 1821 Napoleon died at 5.49pm at Longwood on the island of St Helena. Mystery has surrounded it ever since. There are some primary sources to be found here: https://www.napoleon.org/en/history-of-the-two-empires/close-up/a-close-up-on-napoleons-death/

Charles de Steuben, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

April in Georgian History

April 2, 1801 the HMS Elephant sank the pro-French Danish fleet in the Battle of Copenhagen thanks to Horatio Nelson deliberately disobeying orders. He famously claimed his blind eye made him unable to see the signal flags.

April 9, 1806 Isambard Kingdom Brunel born. His impact on railroads, roads, and shipping would be immense. If you’ve been to Balmoral, you’ve seen a Brunel bridge. On April 8, 1838, The Great Western, the first regular transatlantic steamship, designed by Brunel, left Bristol for its maiden voyage.

April 19, 1775 Some pesky colonists in Lexington, Massachusettes Bay Colony fired on British troops. Outcome, Britain 1 Colonists 0.