From Loretta:
My 1820 Annual Register arrived yesterday courtesy Kenny’s Bookshop of Galway. What I want to do is sit down and read it. But I can’t because I need to work out the details of the plot of my new book (yes, I am Outline Girl). Oh, right, and there’s that tome on Venice I need to study.
Luckily, the blog offers the perfect excuse to indulge my curiosity about the world my heroes and heroines lived in and share my discoveries. Here are some samples from the Annual Register and elsewhere of what was going on during the last couple of weeks of January in 1820.
First, as Susan/Miranda pointed out, on the 22nd, Lord Byron celebrated his 32nd birthday. The relevant volume of Byron’s Letters and Journals (Marchand, ed.) does not offer a birthday letter or diary entry but here’s Marchand’s translation of the note Byron wrote in Italian to his lover, the Countess Teresa Guiccioli, a week later:
My Love--You are mistaken--I remember nothing of it--and I beg you not to do anything similar without reason.--You have no debts with me if not of Love for which there ‘remains in credit’ for the whole of the present day R.i 1000,000,000. B
Evidently she sent him some money, which he returned with the note, asking if she was mad.
From the 1820 Annual Register entries for January:
25. Tuesday’s Gazette.--DEATH OF HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE DUKE OF KENT.
Whitehall, Jan. 24.
Yesterday morning, at 10 o’clock, departed this life, at Sidmouth, after a short illness, his royal highness Edward, Duke of Kent and Strathern, his majesty’s fourth son, to the great grief of all the royal family.
The Lord Chamberlain issues orders for the Court’s going into mourning:
The ladies to wear black bombazins, plain muslin or long lawn, crape hoods, chamois shoes and gloves, and crape fans. (This image is of 1817 mourning attire, courtesy Regency Library and Moonstone Research.)
http://www.regencylibrary.com/
Undress.--Dark Norwich crape.
The gentlemen to wear black cloth, without buttons on the sleeves or pockets, plain muslin or long lawn cravats and weepers, chamois shoes and gloves, crape hatbands, and black swords and buckles.
Undress.--Dark gray frocks.
Elsewhere, on the 27th--in ARCHES COURT, Doctors’ Commons. George Norton, esq., brings a suit “to annul his marriage on the ground of his own impotency!” [Exclamation point theirs.] The lawyers scrambled for precedents. The judge wondered, among other things, how George had failed to notice he was impotent before he got married and why he didn’t mention this as a possible impediment when he got his marriage license, and what made him decide to bring up the matter seven years later.
Meanwhile on this day, in the Court of Chancery, the Lord Chancellor was “occupied until eleven in his private room” with “a motion for an injunction to restrain the earl of Coventry from encouraging the marriage of his daughter, who is only 17 years of age, with Mr. Gresley, who is not 20 years of age, a student of the University of Oxford, and son of Sir George Gresley; and also to restrain the young people from having any communication or correspondence with each other, during the minority of the lady.” Yes, both fathers were fine with the marriage, but apparently the plaintiff--someone named Atherly (no other identification provided) is a joint guardian of the daughter, and doesn’t approve.
Hmm. Why was Atherly a joint guardian? Was this perhaps a natural daughter of Lord Coventry? Was she really Atherly’s daughter, adopted by his lordship?
Does this sound like a possible story line to you?
Then, on the 29th, at 8:35 p.m., King George III breathed his last. “His majesty expired, without pain,” according to the five physicians in attendance.
Interestingly, for some days before his father’s death, the new king, formerly the Prince Regent, had been suffering from “a violent cold, which settled in his lungs.” Since inflammations of the lungs could be fatal in those days, England very nearly lost him, too, in this eventful January. Some believe this would have been no great loss, and I do sympathize with that point of view. I am not sure, had I known the Prince Regent personally or had I lived in his time, that I would have liked him. And probably the same goes for Lord Byron. For one thing, they both could have used lots and lots of therapy. But if they had had what we consider treatment--injesting antidepressants instead of wine and/or laudanum--they might not have been so interesting.
To me, anyway. After all, I didn’t have to live with them. Instead, I reap the benefits of what they contributed to the world. In the case of King George IV, this includes some of the most beautiful as well as the most extraordinary architecture in England. In Byron’s case, this includes some of my favorite poetry, most especially Don Juan, and the joy of reading his amazingly vibrant letters and journals. In the course of my research, I read a lot of letters and journals of the early 19th C (see my blog Is he for real?, regarding boring letters and biographies). His are most certainly far above the common run. I can hear his voice, and there is no other like it.
Yesterday, at the library, I read an introduction to a book on Venice in which the author said that he hated Byron but was forced to put him in the book (it is a collection of views of Venice by various famous persons) because he was a major figure of the time period for that particular chapter. The author, on the other hand, thought the world of Ruskin. Well, I knew we were not going to see eye to eye, so I put that book back on the shelf.
What about you? How personally do you take the past and those who lived there? Does it give you any insight into yourself and your world? And the dangerous question: Should artists and royals be judged by normal standards or do we put them in a special category as, say, different species?
Interesting questions you raise, Loretta. Too bad I'm too ADD today to think about them. "G" Not that I'm not ADD on other days, just not so badly as today.
Since I'm essentially an egalitarian, I dislike giving anyone any special dispensations. But then, don't we all have to "consider the source" when dealing with people's eccentricities? So I guess the best we can do is consider the source and just decide we'll enjoy Byron's poetry and avoid the man himself. Or his 21st century equivalent.
Posted by: Patricia Rice | Thursday, January 25, 2007 at 10:17 AM
Loretta, I LOVED this blog! I've always found that diaries, journals, and letters are always the best historical sources possible. They're first-person glimpses into the past, often unguarded, always tantalizing. They're as close as we'll ever get to a conversation with the past.
As for which version of Venice one should prefer: I can't even begin to imagine what Ruskin (the man who was shocked to discover on his wedding night that real women had pubic hair, instead of being smooth like statues) made of that most sensual of cities, while Byron -- let's say Bryon definitely got his money's worth out of Venice.
For reliable respectability, you wouldn't necessarily wamt Byron. But for a Lost Weekend in Venice...well, hey.
Posted by: shscott21 | Thursday, January 25, 2007 at 10:33 AM
Royals are only people who are catered to since birth. They can be and usually are as messed up as the rest of us. Their only excuse is that they're taught that's how it's supposed to be.
Society influences most of us too. To shock or not to shock, that is the question. Byron would be SO popular today! And because of that, being a rebel, he might go in the other direcition, and be puritanical.
Nah. Guess not. But it is an interesting thought.
And Venice, that magnificent city, has corners in her history even too dark for me. Sometimes.
Have fun with your journals and letters. It's such fun to live another life.
Posted by: Edith | Thursday, January 25, 2007 at 11:14 AM
Gotta side with the wenches on Byron vs. Ruskin. Of course, the trouble with all of history is that dead people cannot issue a rebutal...or check themselves into rehab.
Posted by: Gretchen F | Thursday, January 25, 2007 at 12:20 PM
Pat, I wrote of Lord Dain, "...he'd often dreamt of females he wouldn't, awake, have touched with the proverbial long pole." Likewise, I love men in books who'd drive me insane in real life. I think that's how I love Byron and the Prince Regent/King George IV.
Susan, as I recall Byron did get his money's worth out of Venice. He reported having spent L5000 in 2-1/2 years in Italy--"more than half was laid out on the Sex--to be sure I have had plenty for the money--that's certain--I think at least 200 of one sort or another--perhaps more." Well, ya gotta love his enthusiasm.
Edith, I often think that the Prince Regent represents on a grand scale the spoiled rich kid--but at least this one left us the Brighton Pavilion--not to mention a popular setting for our books. As to dark corners--I'll never forget that movie from, I think, the 70s, with Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie--Don't Look Now (???) Very dark corners there.
LOL, Gretchen, I'm trying to picture either of my bad boys checking themselves into rehab. I see me suggesting it to them and Byron saying, "Are you mad?" And maybe the prince weeping because I hurt his feelings--or alternatively, having me tried for sedition.
Posted by: LorettaChase | Thursday, January 25, 2007 at 01:53 PM
"Artists" are supposed to be crazy and suffer, right? And they can be insufferable as well, but I think creative people see the world and their place in it a bit differently. They get leeway from me, because they enrich that world.
Royals? An accident of birth and an excess of riches. But I feel sorry for them because they have constraints I wouldn't want to submit to, which inevitably warp them. I don't approve of beheadings. I'm quite fond of my head.
Fascinating post as ever, Loretta.
Posted by: Maggie | Thursday, January 25, 2007 at 03:50 PM
I have to admit, Loretta, that Lord B.'s Venice and Casanova's Venice get kind of jumbled together in my mind; I don't quite remember who did what with whom when.
As for the "visual", I always see Venice as painted by John Singer Sargeant -- quite a bit later than Byron's time, but the murky, shadowy decadence is so RIGHT. Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie would look right at home (and yes, I do recall that movie, too.)
Actually, comparing the Brighton Pavilion with sinking Venice probably is as good a way as any to compare the Prince Regent and the poet. One's cheerful, costly, and in the latest style of pleasure; the other's damaged, dark, and romantic.
Susan/Miranda, sinking into a little self-indulgent romanticism herself. *g*
Posted by: shscott21 | Thursday, January 25, 2007 at 04:24 PM
I love the annual registers, Loretta, for just those strange bits. They're like the National Enquirer of their day. Very interesting on the young people who, it seems, wanted to marry.
I had to look up the Earl of Coventry of the time. He was, as I suspected, the son of the one who married one of the Gunning sisters. His own second marriage was to a lady called Peggy Pitches, whom Fanny Burney recorded to be a silly flirt.
It's amazing how as soon as one lifts a corner of the peerage, there's a story. It what makes writing in that world so much fun.
You're probably correct that this was an illegitimate child.
As for Byron, I've never been fascinated by him, alas. Though I would be interested in going back in time to see what he was really like.
George III created a dysfunctional family from day one, I'm afraid. Strange person.
Great blog post,
Jo :)
Posted by: Jo Beverley | Thursday, January 25, 2007 at 04:26 PM
Wow, cool post, Loretta. Loaded with great info and fascinating tidbits. Would love to get my hands on a copy of the Register. Primary docs are so much fun.
Posted by: Teresa | Friday, January 26, 2007 at 07:20 AM
Jo, I believe you were the one who told me about the Annual Register, and I have been very slowly acquiring them ever since--when budget permits and the stars are properly aligned. Teresa, both the local library and Clark University libraries have sets (Clark also has the complete Byron Letters & Journals, as I recall)--and I think a number of academic libraries would have the AR or the Gentleman's Magazine, which is a similarly useful resource for what Susan/Miranda calls "the minutiae of everyday life." As Jo says, it is fun to discover these tidbits about others--and sometimes it moves us to search a little more.
This AR also lists the peerage for 1820 and--so very interesting!--indicates in a column how the title was obtained, e.g., "Court Favour, Family Influence, State Service, Naval Services, Military Serivces, Diplomatic Services, Legal Services, Marriage, Influence of Wealth." It is a bit like a gossip sheet, though I wouldn't put it quite in the National Enquirer category.
Posted by: LorettaChase | Friday, January 26, 2007 at 11:06 AM
Maggie, I do agree about the strange position royalty is in--and there's the strange family life, too. If you haven't already seen it, I recommend THE QUEEN--which fit my interpretation of events and of Her Majesty.
Susan, the similarities between Byron & Casanova are undeniable, and I do have a similar picture of Venice--probably because of that movie--and yet, think of Canaletto's sparkling, sunny scenes. The light and shadow of the place is most intriguing.
Posted by: LorettaChase | Friday, January 26, 2007 at 11:11 AM
Nothing profound to add, but just wanted to say that it looks to me as if in 1817 mourning wear for ladies included an item of headgear that resembled a black and white pinapple.
Posted by: Laura Vivanco | Friday, January 26, 2007 at 12:52 PM