Nude or Prude? Victorian Attitudes to Nudity and Sea-Bathing..

I am currently researching Georgian and Victorian attitudes to marriage and after a particularly pleasing foray into a second hand bookshop, came home with a real gem - 'The Perfect Wife,' by Rona Randall.

Skimming through this book, a passage caught my eye, about Victorian attitudes to nudity. In short, in the Victorian bedroom nudity was to be avoided at all costs. Even sisters sharing a bedroom would stand back to back, and undress beneath voluminous night gowns. Indeed husband's often disrobed in an ajoining room to don his night shirt and didn't enter the bed chamber until his wife was safely attired in a billowing nightgown and frilly cap.

 With this in mind it came as a quite shock to also read that some early Victorians thought nothing of bathing nude in the sea! The invention of swimming costumes came as late as 1870 and before this the options were a bathing hut wheeled into the sea or to cavort naked in the waves. It seems the later was not as exceptional as you might suspect, and many preferred nude bathing! In the summer  months the correspondance columns of local newspapers were full of complaints about the;

'shameless seaside cavortings of loose women and unblushing men...'

However one naked bather, the Rev Francis Kilbert, was anything but loose morals. In his diary he extols the delights of nude sea bathing and somewhat innocently complains about,

'the detestable custom of bathing drawers that are now becoming de rigeur.'

It seems he created quite a stir at Seaton 1873 when unaware of the new requirement for wearing bathing suites, especially as;

'the young ladies strolling near seemed to have no objection.'

One newspaper, the Saturday Review, commented on the habit of some women activley seeking out male nude bathers;

'There they sit [women] happy, innocent, undistrubed - placidly and immovably gaze at hundreds of males in the costume of Adam.'

Who'd have thought!

Coming...November 2011

Publish and Be Damned!

A contempory portrait of courtesan, Harriette Wilson.

Have you ever paused to wonder where the expression, "Publish and be damned" comes from?

In truth, I hadn’t thought about it, until I read the story of Harriette Wilson’s memoirs and the proverbial penny dropped.

In the 18^th century Harriette Wilson was celebrated and adored amongst men - for Harriette was a courtesan. She was one of three prostitute sisters, banded together under the name of ‘the Three Graces.’

At a time when social etiquette was everything, Harriette’s attitude was:

“A fifty pound note is as good as an introduction.”

Frances Wilson's fascinating book on Harriette.

She was lively, extravagant and outrageous, and must have been like a breath of fresh air to some of the men who called on her services. She had many famous lovers whom she listed in order of rank:

“Dukes: Argyle, Beaufort, Leinster …..Wellington.

Marquesses: Anglesey, Bath, Hertford”

…and so on, working her way through Burke’s Peerage to the modest Esquires.

However when she fell on hard times, ever a woman of ingenuity, she channelled her formidable skills into writing an autobiography. She then sent copies of the manuscript to her high-born conquests with a note saying:

“Two hundred pounds by return of post, to be left out.”

Duke of Wellington, hero of Waterloo, commanding his troops.

One of the few men to resist this unprincipled blackmail was the Duke of Wellington, who reputedly scribbled:

“Publish and be damned” on the papers before sending them back. Accordingly, Harriette was less than flattering in her account of him in her memoirs.

The Duke of Wellington - looking slightly less heroic.

I leave you with a sample of Harriette’s style:

“Beautiful creature!” uttered Wellington. “Beautiful eyes, yours.”

Wellington was now my constant visitor – a most unentertaining one, Heaven knows! And in the evening, when he wore his broad red ribbon, he looked very like a rat-catcher.”

Rules Not to be Broken.

It’s tempting to think that the 19^th century was governed by rules. Even a simple thing such as moving around the house in company, had rules attached:

“The lady should be given the wall when descending stairs, but if merely passing from room to room, the man’s right arm should be offered to her.”

But rules abounded nowhere quite so much as hosting a dinner party.

“The direction of a table is no inconsiderate branch of a lady’s concern.”

There were strict orders of precedence to be obeyed, with the highest ranked in society commanding the most prestigious place at table. The lady of the house sat at the head of the table, with the gentleman of highest rank on her right, and the gentlemen next in rank to her left. This arrangement was mirrored at the bottom of the table for the gentleman of the house.

But the finer rules of etiquette were constantly changing.

“…what is considered the height of good taste one year, is declared vulgar the next.”

What a nightmare for the aspiring hostess!

“If a lady…be invited to take wine…they must never refuse; it is very gauche to do so. They need not drink half a glass, but merely taste of it.”

And at the dinner table,

“Ladies are not to dine with their gloves on, unless their hands are not fit to be seen.”

However servants were to wait at table wearing clean white gloves because:

“There are few things more disagreeable than the thumb of a clumsy waiter in your plate.”

It is hoped some rules never went out of fashion, such as:

 “Never use yor knife to convey food to your mouth, under any circumstances. It is unnecessary and glaringly vulgar.”

“Making a noise in chewing or breathing hard in eating, are both unseemly habits, and ought to be eschewed.”

“Do not pick your teeth much at table as, however satisfactory a practice to yourself, to witness it is not a pleasant thing.”

And finally, perhaps a piece of reverse snobbery in this piece of advice about family meals.

“At family dinners, where the common household bread is used, it should never be cut less than an inch and half thick. There is nothing more plebeian that thin bread at dinner.”

Thin sliced bread, plebeian indeed! Whatever next? Cucumber sandwiches with the crusts on? Heaven forbid!

When the Past Becomes History.

‘Smuggling, though a real offence, is owing to the laws themselves, for the higher the duties, the greater the advantage and consequently the temptation.’

1768 Treatise on Crimes and Punishment, Beccaria.

I’m currently researching my WIP (work in progress) about smuggling along the south coast of England in the 18^th century, and so imagine my surprise when my husband produced a small beige-coloured book on the subject from our very own bookshelves! The interesting thing is, the more I read, the more I realised this book itself, was a piece of history!

‘The Smugglers of Christchurch, Bourne Heath and the New Forest’, by E Russell Oakley, published in 1924, turned out to be a wonderful glimpse into the history – not just of smuggling, but also of the 1920’s.

Excisemen tackle some smugglers in their lair.

In the book Mr Oakley writes about a talk on smuggling he gave on BBC radio, in January 1924. He recounts the true story of a fast sailing boat with a cargo of contraband tea which, in 1748, was chased by Revenue cutters. In danger of being overhauled and captured, the smugglers jumped overboard in shallow water just off Bourne Heath and swam ashore to escape. In his radio broadcast Mr Oakley bemoans:

“It is curious that contemporary records give us so much detail, yet the name of the boat and her home port are not stated.”

Smugglers ashore, signalling they are ready to recieve the landed contraband.

And it’s this next bit that I love as a reflection of history-within-history. In his book, Mr Oakley recounts that a week after the program he received a letter which read:

“Last week I purchased a wireless set. [Don’t you just love it? Owning a radio was so unusual the writer mentioned it in his letter!] Last Saturday night I listened in for the first time and you were the first speaker I have heard on the air.”

The letter goes onto say:

“I am going to tell you something you don’t know. That boat belonged to a relative of our family and the loss of it broke his heart and he died soon afterwards. The name of the boat was ‘Charles’ and she was…an oyster dredger and fishing boat.”

How wonderful, that the new-technology of the ‘wireless set’ provided an answer to a question nearly two centuries old!

Smugglers at work.

Another fascinating glimpse into the past is the mention of what were then hamlets and villages, - Shirley – a hamlet four miles away (now a waste concrete and brick, sprawling suburb of Southampton, and anything less idyllic or hamlet-like it’s difficult to imagine.) And of course there is the Bourne Heath of the books title – which it transpires is the forerunner of the well-known seaside resort and popular retirement town of Bournemouth. In Victorian and Edwardian times the transformation from sleepy Bourne Heath, to bustling Bournemouth was underway, as E Russell Oakley writes in 1924:

“Many places in the coastal belt….have entirely disappeared, submerged under a titanic tide of bricks, cement, reinforced concrete and Trinidad asphalt.”

Bournemouth (seen from the air) as it appears today.

‘I spent my nineteenth summer on a smuggling coast…The contraband trade was at that time very successful, and it happened to me to fall in with those who carried it on.’

Robert Burns 1778.

Murder Tourism - Victorian Style!

Judging from the popularity of crime series on TV, it seems the modern world is obsessed by murder. However, this gruesome voyeurism is nothing new as revealed in this post about ‘murder-tourism’ in Regency and Victorian England.

In 1811, a particularly ugly murder whipped up anxiety and fear in the East End of London. One night, Thomas Marr, his wife, baby and a fourteen year old apprentice were bludgeoned to death in their hosiery shop; his servant, Margaret Jewell was only saved because Marr had earlier sent her on an errand and she got lost on the way home.

But almost as bad as the murders themselves, were the sight-seers who flocked to see the scene of the crime.

It was usual at the time, to leave bodies in situ for the jury to view, whilst the inquest was held (in a nearby public house or tavern). This had the unfortunate consequence of attracting people to see the crime first hand for themselves:

“…from curiosity to examine the premises,” where they entered, “…and saw the dead bodies.”

Murder sight-seeing was not uncommon and indeed, some people were not above turning a profit on it.

In 1823, William Weare unwisely boasted of his personal wealth and was murdered for his troubles (He was actually penniless.) His body thrown into the pond adjacent to the cottage of a Mr Probert, one of conspirators. The case was widely reported in the press attracting crowds of people on excursions as ‘murder tourists’; they wandered through the grounds and payed a shilling to visit the cottage itself. A contemporary publication reported that as many as five hundred people parted with their money and a sightseeing route worked out;

“At Elstree the curious made their first halt, the pond, about a quarter of a mile out of the village…The Artichoke Inn, to which the corpse was carried, and where the Coroner’s Inquest was held. Mr Field, the landlord, being one of the Jury, was….fully competent to the task of answering the numerous questions but to him by customers. Here the sack, in which the remains of the Victim had been carried from Probert’s cottage, was shown. The marks of blood which it bears gave it peculiar interest…”

For those wanted, took a souvenir home: be it a bit of the sack the hapless victim was trussed up in, or later, a Staffordshire figure of the murderer. It was even reported that the hedge outside the cottage slowly vanished:

 “…filched by those curious people, who consider a twig from the hedge, through which the remains of a murdered man had been dragged, must furnish a treat to their equally curious friends.”

It seemed murder-tourists came from all walks of life. Walter Scott, some years later, recorded a visit to this same murder spot: taking in the lanes, pond and cottage itself, where he was shown around by ‘a truculent looking hag’ for 2s.6d. – the equivalent of a week’s pay for a workman.

But before we throw up our hands in horror at the terrible goings-on in Victorian times, we’d do well to remember that watching a CSI program on TV, and seeing the murder victim- albeit with a pixellated face, perhaps isn’t so far removed from those Victorian murder-tourists!

DO YOU WATCH CSI - or other crime related docu-dramas? If so, why? Leave a comment and share your thoughts as to why murder fascinates you.
Grace x

Did Anne Boleyn Ride Astride?



 

I’m a huge fan of the TV series ‘The Tudors’ and have long since accepted the liberties taken with historical realism. However, one episode – where Anne Boleyn is shown riding astride – had me reaching for the text books. Surely a lady, like Anne Boleyn, would have ridden side saddle?

My research revealed illustrations of women riding, literally sitting sideways on a horse, going back to the vases of ancient Greece. Medieval depictions show women seated side-ways, riding pillion behind men, on a small padded seat.  Anne of Bohemia 1366 - 1394 created the earliest functional ‘side saddle’ – a chair life affair with a small footrest, but the rider was still insufficiently secure to control her mount and so had to be led.

Riding side saddle meant facing forwards instead of sideways, and gave more control.

In the 16^th century, Catherine de’Medici developed a more practical saddle, complete with a small horn around which the rider hooked her right knee, with the footrest being replaced with a ‘slipper stirrup’ for the left leg. The meant the rider now sat facing forwards and was therefore able to hold the reins and control her horse, albeit only at sedate paces.

A photo illustrating the secure grip afforded by two horns and a stirrup.

Incredibly, it took until the 1830’s for a design with a second, lower pommel to trap the left leg and add extra grip, was invented. This extra horn or ‘leaping head’ was revolutionary in that it allowed women to stay on a horse at a gallop, or even jumping.

Ester Stace, 1915 - world record the highest jump riding side saddle (6'6")

So as to the question as to how inaccurate is the portrayal of Anne Boleyn riding astride, in The Tudors….The answer goes something like this.

As the centuries passed, women of wealth and position desired to control their mounts, but long skirts and social rules meant that it was considered extremely immodest to sit astride (Anne Boleyn take note!) However, and perhaps this is where the producers of The Tudors took their creative license, not all noble women rode side saddle all the time. Women such as Henry II of France’s mistress, Diane de Poitiers, Marie Antoinette and Catherine the Great were know to ride astride. So there we have it…who knows, perhaps Anne Boleyn, might…just might…have ridden astride after all.

In series such as, The Tudors, how much does historical inaccuracy bother you?


Calls and Calling Cards.

Following on from the previous post ‘Advice for the Bride-to-be’, one of the social skills a new wife had to master, was the art of paying a call. Although known as ‘morning calls’, these visits were actually made in the afternoon, at specific times depending on their purpose: ceremonial calls were paid between 3 and 4pm, semi-ceremonial between 4 and 5pm, and intimate calls between 5 – 6pm, - but never on a Sunday which was reserved for very close friends and relatives. Generally a call was limited to 15 minutes, and if other guests arrived during your visit, it was expected you would quietly excuse yourself and leave.

One should never call ‘on the off chance’ but on pre-set ‘at Home’ days and times, e.g. the third Friday of each month, or the second Tuesday.

If a wife was new to an area, she might get a lucky break and gain a letter of introduction from a friend to someone of prominence in the local community. These were sometimes referred to as ‘letters for soup’ because generally the person receiving the letter then invited the bearer to dinner.

A more usual way of announcing yourself into society was to leave your card.

Visiting cards were invented by the French, and adopted in England around 1800. It was imperative to understand the rules of calling, of which card-leaving was the first step. Those wise in the ways of society, left their card but without requesting to see the mistress of the house. Then it was up to the recipient to respond – if no card was sent in return, that was a heavy hint that there was no wish for an acquaintance to develop. The unwise presented their card and then inquired if the mistress was ‘at home.’ Since you could be physically at-home, but not socially at-home, the visitor had to be prepared for the ignominy of being turned away.

In “Eulogy’s Secret’’ (due for release November 2011), alone in London, Eulogy Foster calls on her estranged brother for help…but with no card to present, the footman assumes she is a nobody.

A lady would wait in her carriage whilst a groom presented her card.

EXCERPT – “Eulogy’s Secret” by Grace Elliot.

A surly footman opened the door and squinted into the gloom; sounds of music and raucous laughter spilt over his shoulder.

“Yes, Miss?”

“My apologies for the late hour, but I must see Lord Devlin.” Eagerly, Eulogy pushed back the hood of her travelling cloak.

The footman raised a haughty brow.

“His Lordship is not at home.”

“But His Lordship would wish to see me… I’ve travelled a long way.”

Her head buzzed with frustration that this man stood between her and safety.

The footman’s gaze wandered disapprovingly over her plain wool cloak and battered valise.

“Your card, Miss?”

Her heart sank. “I don’t have one but I’m a close…very close, family friend.”  She neglected to add that she had yet to meet his Lordship….

“No card? Then what name do I give?”

“Miss Foster. Miss Eulogy Foster. Be sure and tell his Lordship that his late mother, Lady Devlin, knew me well.”

“Wait there, Miss Foster.” He withdrew, exuding cool disapproval, leaving her to shiver on the doorstep.