Book Review: Review: Treacherous Beauty: Peggy Shippen, the Woman behind Benedict Arnold's Plot to Betray America by Stephen H. Case and Mark Jacob

The cover for Treacherous Beauty: Peggy Shippen, the Woman behind Benedict Arnold's Plot to Betray America by Stephen H. Case and Mark Jacob

[Note: I originally reviewed this book in 2012 on the original 'Inviting History Book Reviews.' This review is rewritten from the original version.]

When considering notable women who played a role in the American Revolution, it is usually select women who come to mind. Women such as Abigail Adams, whose words "remember the ladies" resonate today despite more than two centuries of distance; Deborah Sampson, whose decision to enlist in the military despite the restrictions against women and then later fight for her right to a military pension were deeply symbolic of a desire for the foundation of a new country

But what about the women who did not support the decision to separate from England--or women who went so far as to work against the Revolution itself?

Treacherous Beauty: Peggy Shippen, the Woman Behind Benedict Arnold's Plot to Betray America by Stephen H. Case and Mark Jacob is the first modern popular biography of an enigmatic and often ignored figure in American history--Peggy Shippen, the wife of the infamous Benedict Arnold. 

Peggy, born Margaret Shippen, was born into the elite world of Philadelphia's high society. Not much is known about her early childhood, although Case and Jacob suggest in this book that she received an above-average education for her sex and learned much about finances through her father and mother. 

She came of age during the American Revolution in British-occupied Philadelphia and developed a strong social reputation due to her beauty and wit. She was considered to be one of the most beautiful women in the city and frequently attended balls and other social gatherings with others of her rank. Also in attendance at these elite social gatherings were British soldiers, including one John André, who would later play an important role in the "Benedict Arnold plot."

Peggy was considered to be beautiful, loving and sweet, but she was presumably not Benedict Arnold's first choice for a new wife. Case and Jacob point out that many of the lines Benedict used in his courting letter to Peggy were actually recycled from letters he had written to a previous potential wife. Regardless of whether or not Arnold was pursuing Peggy out of genuine love or merely from acceptance that his first choice had rejected him, the two were eventually married and what soon followed is the subject of much debate and controversy. 

How much of a role did Peggy Shippen play in Benedict Arnold's decision to become a spy for Britain? Did she know about the extent of his betrayal? And if she did, how much did she use her knowledge to advance Britain's desire to quash the American Revolution? Did Peggy herself play an active or passive role in the most notorious betrayal of the American Revolution?

Although the title of the book labels Peggy squarely as the woman "behind" the plot, I don't think that the authors, if it was their attention to paint her as the mastermind, successfully provided enough evidence to suggest that Peggy was the one who pushed Arnold into making his final and what would be his fateful decision regarding espionage.

Unfortunately, much of Peggy's correspondence was destroyed or burned in the wake of the plot, perhaps to save her reputation or prevent her from being implicated. So it is difficult to determine exactly what she did, how much she knew--and what role she played in the decision for Benedict Arnold to betray the cause he had once fought to promote.

After the news of Arnold's betrayal broke, Peggy claimed innocence; "the poor innocent wife of Benedict Arnold," as she was called after news of his betrayal and her subsequent hysterics at the "shocking news" broke out across the rebelling colonies.

And although they do not provide a tight case for Peggy being the woman behind the plot, Case and Jacob were able to provide ample information which not only indicates she knew about Benedict Arnold's betrayal--but that she assisted him and played at least some active role in the espionage.

The plot to betray America is, understandably, the real meat and bones of the book. Because there are gaps in the recorded history of Peggy's life, some of the narrative focuses much more on the actions of Arnold--whom Peggy often followed; along with John André, who left behind a more tangible historical trail than Peggy Shippen. However, Case and Jacob have made excellent use of the resources they had to create an interesting and rounded narrative of Peggy's life--from her birth in pre-revolutionary American to her matrimonial betrayal of the revolution and finally to her last years in England, where she spent most of her time dealing with poor state of her family's finances and securing a future for her children.

I recommend Treacherous Beauty: Peggy Shippen, the Woman Behind Benedict Arnold's Plot to Betray America by Stephen H. Case and Mark Jacob to readers who are interested in the American Revolution, 18th century, or women's studies in the 18th century.

[A review copy of this book was provided by the publisher upon my request.]

 

The Myth of Mops: Marie Antoinette, Mistranslations and the Pug Who Wasn't There

The Myth of Mops: Marie Antoinette, Mistranslations and the Pug Who Wasn't There

image: A photo of a modern pug by Mark Mingle.

“You can have as many French dogs as you like.”

--Sofia Coppola's 'Marie Antoinette'

Mops. Anyone who has read a book about Marie Antoinette, fictional or otherwise, since the turn of the 21st century will likely recognize the name; or at least, they might recall the image of a round, adorable pug being ripped out of a teenage Marie Antoinette’s arms as she was ceremoniously handed over to the French.

Nothing of Austrian heritage, it was said, could remain as the Austrian Maria Antonia was transformed into the French Marie Antoinette; not her dress, not her undergarments, not even a little lap dog who whined as he was separated from his beloved, equally whimpering owner. However, all was not lost: thanks to some political maneuvering on the part of the comte de Mercy-Argenteau, Austrian ambassador to France, Mops was later fetched back from Austria and reunited with Marie Antoinette, now living in the lap of luxury as the dauphine of France.

The story was immortalized in Sofia Coppola’s ‘Marie Antoinette’; Mops was even used as inspiration for Lynn Cullen's delightful illustrated children’s book, published in 2006 as ‘Moi and Marie Antoinette.' Mops’ tale is often mentioned in newer historical fiction revolving around Marie Antoinette, and it’s not uncommon to find mention of his brief separation from Marie Antoinette in various non-fiction books about dogs, history--or both.

There’s only one problem: Mops didn’t exist. 

Dorothea Erxleben (1715-1762): The First Woman to Earn a Medical Doctorate

Women's History Month: A month celebrating women of history! I will be posting media and book recommendations, highlighting women from (mostly) the 18th century, and otherwise sharing content with an emphasis on women in history.

 

A portrait of Dorothea Erxleben

Dorothea Christiane Erxleben born in 1715; several decades later, she would become the first woman known to earn a medical degree and become a practicing licensed physician. Although woman often worked in medical fields as midwives, nurses and unofficial practitioners, women in Europe were not allowed to hold medical degrees or practice as doctors.

Dorothea's father, Christian Leporin, was a physician; he taught both his son Christian and his daughter Dorothea medicine in addition to Latin and other scholarly pursuits.

Women were not allowed to become licensed physicians. This did not stop Dorothea from petitioning to study at the University of Halle, where her brother Christian planned to attend. Frederick II approved the petition, and Dorothea was allowed to study.

Her acceptance into the university was met with a contrast of support and anger. Johann Rhetius argued that since she could not practice medicine, there was no point to her graduating with a degree she could not use. Dorothea, for her part, gathered her thoughts in notes which would later be published as 'A Thorough Inquiry into the Causes Preventing the Female Sex from Studying'" In this work, Dorothea explored the fact that women were often burdened with children and housework and other gender-based expectations, making it impossible for them to engage in studies.

Although she was accepted to Halle in 1742, she was unable to attend the university as planned. She would later write that 'Providence' had other plans fo rher. She married, had several children, and dealt with frequent, ongoing family obligations which made studying at Halle (far away from her hometown) an impossible choice. In addition to her own children, she raised the 5 children of her cousin, Sophie, and tended to her ailing and dying father.

As the years went on, she began to practice medicine in her local town of Quedlinburg, despite her lack of official degree. In some cases, she was treating patients that her father was no longer able to treat due to his illness and, after 1747, his death.

The three doctors in Quendlinburg filed a lawsuit against her, charging her with "medical quackery" under the form of three specific charges: that she allowed herself to be called Frau Doctorin, that she often visited patients, and that she sometimes accepted money for her services. She answered all three charges in a 16 page letter, ending it with the bold defense that she would take her medical examinations, only if her accusers would take them at the same time.

The trio of physicians were outraged by her response, and derogatorily called her a "dear lady [who] considers herself a doctor, only by virtue of the fact that she can toss around some broken Latin and French." They even accused her of being a witch, saying she had treated a patient she didn't meet in person.

Frederick II intervened in 1754, ordering that Erxleben would need to take her medical examination and submit a dissertation to the University of Halle. Johann Junker, the rector at Halle, was sympathetic to Dorothea and argued that it was an "inexcusable injustice" to exclude women from the medical field or studies.

Dorothea submitted her dissertation, called 'Concerning the Swift and Pleasant but for that Reason less than Full Cure of Illnesses,' in which she argued (among other things) that many illnesses would be better treated with slower interventions and treatments, contrasted to the expectation from both physicians and patients that immediate interventions would be used. She was unanimously approved by the medical board, who noted that she could not have answered better than the most skilled physicians. Her dissertation became so popular that Erxleben had it translated into German and reprinted the following year.

On June 12th, 1754, Erxleben was awarded her medical doctorate. She practiced medicine until her death in 1762.

Self-portrait by Faronne Marie Madaleine Ollivier (1716-unknown)

Women's History Month: A month celebrating women of history! I will be posting media and book recommendations, highlighting women from (mostly) the 18th century, and otherwise sharing content with an emphasis on women in history.

 

A self-portrait by Faraona Olivieri (1730-unknown death date).

Faronne Marie Madaleine Ollivier was born in Paris in 1716 to a French father and mother of unknown name and origin. There is little documentation about Faronne's early life, but it is presumed she studied art. In 1750, she married artist Michel-Barthélémy Ollivier; the couple moved to Spain where both worked as artists. It was not unusual for French artists to take up residency in Spain, Faronne applied to the Real Academia de Bellas Artes de San Fernando in 1759 and was unaminously accepted; she was the first woman to ever be admitted to the academy and her entry saw a rise in female successful female applicants. Her death date is unknown; however, the last known work she produced is dated to 1759.

The above pastel self-portrait is held in the collection of the Real Academia de Bellas Artes de San Fernando.

Concerto per il cembalo; composed by Maria Teresa Agnesi (1720-1795)

Women's History Month: A month celebrating women of history! I will be posting media and book recommendations, highlighting women from (mostly) the 18th century, and otherwise sharing content with an emphasis on women in history.

Maria Teresa Agnesi Pinottini was an Italian composer and singer born in Milan to Pietro Agnesi. Her sister, known as Maria Gaetana Agnesi, was a noted mathematician and philosopher. Not much is known about Maria Teresa's personal life. In 1752, she married Pier Antonio Pinottini, but he died not very long after their marriage. Maria Teresa was a fairly prolific composer, but most of her compositions were lost to time. Her performances were more often praised outside her home town, with many foreign audiences praising her work; she was even able to count Empress Maria Theresa as one of her patrons.

She died in 1795 at age 75.

The above piece, Concerto per il cembalo, is one of her more well-known works.

'On An Unsociable Family' by Elizabeth Hands

Women's History Month: A month celebrating women of history! I will be posting media and book recommendations, highlighting women from (mostly) the 18th century, and otherwise sharing content with an emphasis on women in history.

Detail from a portrait of an unidentified family by William Hogarth, 18th century.

Elizabeth Hands was born in 1746 to parents Henry and Ann Herbert, who worked at unknown occupations; she had two siblings, including a sister who died at less than one year of age. Elizabeth, who worked as a domestic servant, married William Hands in 1784; the couple had two children, daughters Elizabeth and Ann.

It is unknown exactly when Hands began writing poetry, but the advertisement taken out for a subscription to her works noted that she began reading poetry while working in a variety of households, where she would find and read available literature. Support for Hands' work in the local community was instrumental in the works being published. In 1788, the rector of Birdingbury wrote to Reverend Richard Blisse Riland in an attempt to drum up financial support for the publication of Hands' poetry; and the assistant headmaster at Rugby School, Philip Homer, manage to convince the school's various masters of the poems quality, thereafter the school agreed to put out a subscription notice for her works. 

The collection was published through subscription in 1789 under the title The Death of Amnon: a Poem with an Appendix, Containing Pastorals and Other Poetical Pieces. It achieved at least 1,200 subscribers, which was referred to by a contemporary critic as an 'uncommonly numerous list of subscribers."

The poems were generally well reviewed, with the titular poem receiving the most praise. 

I've singled out this particular poem by Hands because of its striking modernity. I imagine that many readers today can identify to some degree with the awkward situation described in the poem.

 On an UNSOCIABLE FAMILY. by Elizabeth Hands

O What a strange parcel of creatures are we,
Scarce ever to quarrel, or ever agree;
We all are alone, though at home altogether,
Except to the fire constrain'd by the weather;
Then one says, 'tis cold, which we all of us know,
And with unanimity answer, 'tis so:
With shrugs and with shivers all look at the fire,
And shuffle ourselves and our chairs a bit nigher;
Then quickly, preceded by silence profound,
A yawn epidemical catches around:
Like social companions we never fall out,
Nor ever care what one another's about;
To comfort each other is never our plan,
For to please ourselves, truly, is more than we can.

Three Self-Portraits by 18th-Century Women Artists

 Women's History Month: A month celebrating women of history! I will be posting media and book recommendations, highlighting women from (mostly) the 18th century, and otherwise sharing content with an emphasis on women in history.

 

Three Self-Portraits by 18th-Century Women Artists

A self-portrait by Ludovike Simanowiz (1759-1827); 1791.

A self-portrait by Anna Bacherini Piattoli (1720–1788)

 

A self-portrait by Caroline Louise of Hesse-Darmstadt, circa 1745.

 

 

 

Two moon phrase drawings by German astronomer and artist, Maria Clara Eimmart (1676-1707)

 Women's History Month: A month celebrating women of history! I will be posting media and book recommendations, highlighting women from (mostly) the 18th century, and otherwise sharing content with an emphasis on women in history.

A pastel drawing of a moon phase by Maria Clara Eimmart. Circa 1693-1698.

 

 

Maria Clara Eimmart (1676-1707) was an astronomer and engraver born in Germany. Maria was the daughter--and eventually, assistant--to George Christoph Einmmart, an amateur astronomer whose own father was an engraver and painter. Maria's father trained her as an apprentice to his astronomy studies and ensured she had an education which reflected her broad interests. Maria Clara Eimmart learned mathematics, astronomy, French and Latin in addition to drawing and engraving.

In 1706, she married a fellow pupil of her father, Johann Henrich Muller. Muller, who taught physics, was inspired by his wife and father-in-law's passion for astronomy and would become an amateur astronomer himself in time.

Unfortunately, Maria Clara Eimmart died during childbirth just one year after her marriage. She left behind an array of illustrations, including her notable drawings of moon phases and other astronomical bodies. Her highly detailed astronomical works were typically done using pastels on dark blue cardboard material. By the year 1700, she had amassed a total of over 350 drawings of the phrase of the moon, although only a handful survive today.  

A pastel drawing of a moon phase by Maria Clara Eimmart. Circa 1693-1698.

The Attributes of Painting, Sculpture and Architecture and The Attributes of Music by Anne Vallayer-Coster

Women's History Month: A month celebrating women of history! I will be posting media and book recommendations, highlighting women from (mostly) the 18th century, and otherwise sharing content with an emphasis on women in history.

 

The Attributes of Painting, Sculpture and Architecture by Anne Vallayer-Coster, 1769.

Anne Vallayer-Coster (1744-1818) was a French painter who was--and is--best known for her still life paintings. Vallayer-Coster achieved significant fame and success, including an admission to the famed Académie royale de peinture et de sculpture in 1770. She was only 26 years old at the time.

At the exhibition of 1771, where her admission paintings were displayed to the public, Denis Diderot would later note: "...if all new members of the Royal Academy made a showing like Mademoiselle Vallayer's, and sustained the same high level of quality, the Salon would look very different!

The two paintings featured in this post, titled The Attributes of Painting, Sculpture and Architecture and the Attributes of Music, were the pair that she submitted to the Académie royale de peinture et de sculpture--and it was their reception that earned her an unanimous election into the academy.

The Attributes of Music by Anne Valleyer-Coster, 1770.

Women's History Month: 'My Wish' by Mary Chandler (1687-1745)

Women's History Month: A month celebrating women of history! I will be posting media and book recommendations, highlighting women from (mostly) the 18th century, and otherwise sharing content with an emphasis on women in history.

Detail from The Trough by Jean-Honoré Fragonard, 1763-1765.

Mary Chandler, born in 1687, was the daughter of a dissenting minister named Henry Chandler and his wife, Mary Bridgeman. Mary Chandler had at least one brother, Samuel Chandler, who would become known for his own nonconformist views; Samuel Chandler would later write a biography of his sister, which was included in the book The Lives of the Poets, published several years after her death. 

From childhood, Mary Chandler enjoyed reading and creating poetry. She would often come up with riddles and verses to share with her friends. However, due to her family's station, Mary Chandler was required to start a trade and had to cut short her education. While she still a teenager, she opened a milliner's shop in Bath. In his biography of her, her brother wrote that she "was very early employed ... and incapable of receiving that polite and learned education which she often regretted the loss of, and which she afterwards endeavored to repair by diligently reading [and studying]."

She was not unknown in Bath's higher society circles, as she became acquainted with known society women such as Frances Seymour, the Duchess of Somerset. She was sometimes invited to her society friend's stately homes and allowed to 'retire,' as her brother would write, for a time, during which period she would often write. However, she needed to make a living, and she worked tirelessly at her milliners' shop for 35 years before retiring. She lived for 5 more years before dying at the age of 58 from an illness.

It is apt to end with the final words of her brother's biography, where he wrote:

"She was a good woman, a kind relation, and a faithful friend. She had a real genius for poetry, was a most agreeable correspondent, had a large fund of good sense, was unblemished in her character, lived highly esteemed, and died greatly lamented."

In her poem 'My WISH,' Chandler describes her ideal existence: a life where she is free to enjoy leisure, has the company of good neighbors, and otherwise is able to enjoy a carefree life.

It is easy to contrast her wish for such a worry-free, financially secure existence where she has no cares beyond enjoying the pleasures of life, nature, and friendship with her reality: a young teenager forced to abandon her education in order to begin a career, which she worked at for several decades before retiring relatively shortly before her death.

An interesting note: according to data from the CPI Inflation Calculator, the £100 per year that Chandler wished for would be equivalent to around £22,318.00 today. [This is using information from 1750, the earliest date that the CPI Inflation Calculator uses.]

My WISH

Mary Chandler (1687-1745)

text via The 18th Century Poetry Archive

Wou'd Heav'n indulgent grant my Wish
 For future Life, it shou'd be this;
 Health, Peace, and Friendship I wou'd share
 A Mind from Bus'ness free, and Care;
 A Soil that's dry in temp'rate Air;
 A Fortune from Incumbrance clear,
 About a Hundred Pounds a Year;
 A House not small, built warm and neat,
 Above a Hut, below a Seat;
 With Groops of Trees beset around,
 In Prospect of the lower Ground,
 Beneath the Summit of a Hill,
 From whence the gushing Waters trill,
 In various Streams and Windings flow
 To aid a River just below;
 At a small Distance from a Wood,
 And near some Neighbours wise and good;
 There would I spend my remnant Days,
 Review my Life, and mend my Ways.
I'd be some honest Farmer's Guest,
 That with a cleanly Wife is blest;
 A friendly Cleric shou'd be near,
 Whose Flock and Office were his Care;
 My Thoughts my own, my Time I'd spend
 In writing to some faithful Friend:
 Or on a Bank, by purling Brook,
 Delight me with some useful Book;
 Some Sage, or Bard, as Fancy led;
 Then ruminate on what I'd read.
Some moral Thoughts shou'd be my Theme,
 Or verdant Field, or gliding Stream;
 Or Flocks, or Herds, that Shepherds love;
 The Shepherds wou'd my Song approve.
No Flatt'ry base, nor baser Spite,
 Nor one loose Thought my Muse shou'd write;
 Nor vainly try unequal Flight.
Great George's Name let Poets sing,
 That rise on a sublimer Wing:
 I'd keep my Passions quite serene;
 My Person and Apartment clean;
 My Dress not slovenly, but mean.
Some Money still I'd keep in Store,
 That I might have to give the Poor;
 To help a Neighbour in Distress,
 I'd save from Pleasure, Food, and Dress.
I'd feed on Herbs, the limpid Spring
 Shou'd be my Helicon. — I'd sing;
 And be much happier than a King.
Thus calmly see my Sun decline;
 My Life and Manners thus refine.
And acting in my narrow Sphere,
 In chearful Hope, without one Care,
 I'd quit the World, nor wish a Tear.

Marie Antoinette in Pink: A Series of Portraits

 

A promotional still for Sofia Coppola's 'Marie Antoinette'

"They didn't have pink dresses in the 18th century."

Way back in 2006, when the Sofia Coppola film Marie-Antoinette was first released, I was then a teenager and only vaguely interested in the titular historical figure. I didn't even see the film in theaters. I did, however, look at photos of the costumes online--including a long, internet oldschool "picspam" post from a fashion-loving user on Livejournal which broke down the costumes with a seemingly endless string of dial-up killing photos and personal thoughts. 

One of these thoughts shared in this extensive post, and one that stuck with me until I was deep into my own foray in a passion for Marie Antoinette, was the idea that they simply didn't wear colors like pink in the 18th century. They wore browns, greens, deep blues, this user said--but pink? Very rare. Not even the more subtle pastel pinks from the film were available, this user claimed, because pink was not used in adult fashion during this time period and only rarely for children's fashion.

Like many historical misconceptions, this particular user was probably taught this (wholly false) "fact" from an outdated book or documentary--perhaps even an insistent teacher or another online blog. 

And even though I learned quite quickly that it was completely untrue, I still sometimes find myself surprised when I see paintings of 18th century women wearing pink. My brain seems to instantly jump back to 2006, to that Livejournal blog, and the thought always comes to mind: "Pink! Imagine that!"

Pink! Imagine that! A pink silk gown, circa 1775, from the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Marie Antoinette, for her part, not only wore pink but wore it fairly frequently. At least in her youth. According to Caroline Weber's 'The Queen of Fashion,' Marie Antoinette abandoned pink along with the other clothes that she seemed to be in the realm of youth around the time that she turned 30 years old.

Indeed, the last known portrait we have of Marie Antoinette wearing pink is dated to 1784--the year she was 29, and just a year before the infamous 'Affair of the Diamond Necklace' would put an undoubtedly public negative limelight on Marie Antoinette--and her wardrobe. 

But before Marie Antoinette seemingly renounced pink, it was a color that made a frequent appearance in her portraiture and wardrobe. I've collected a non-exhaustive list of some notable portraits of Marie Antoinette in pink over the years.

A miniature of Marie Antoinette as a child by an unknown artist. 18th century.

In this miniature portrait, a young Marie Antoinette is depicted wearing a soft pink gown and matching bonnet trimmed with lace. A garland flowers is wrapped carefully around her shoulder, matching the bouquet set in front of her, which she appears to be weaving into a garland with her tiny hands.

A miniature of a young Marie Antoinette by an unknown artist. 18th century.

 Marie Antoinette wears another soft shade of pink in this portrait, done when she looked to be a young teenager. The pink gown is trimmed with lace and light blue ribbons.

 

A portrait of Marie Antoinette by Jean-Étienne Liotard, 1762. 

Liotard's portrait of a 7-year old Marie Antoinette showcases the archduchess--then just one of many imperial daughters--wearing a bright, slightly salmon-pink gown bedecked with ruffles and bows. Notably, Liotard depicted Marie Antoinette's sisters Maria Carolina and Maria Amalia in pink as well.

A portrait of Marie Antoinette by Joseph Ducreux, 1770.[note: an older attribution attributes this portrait to Drouais, and dates it to 1773. The Ducreaux/1770 attribution is from the new RMN database.]

 

This charming portrait of Marie Antoinette as a newly-minted dauphine features a magenta pink gown that is adorned with matching ribbons and lace and surrounded by an ermine blue cloak with the French fleur-de-lys embroidered throughout. Marie Antoinette is unquestionably French in this portrait, with a fresh and charming gown surrounded by cloak that tells the viewer that she is, with her charming beauty and expensive gown, the dauphine.

A portrait of Marie Antoinette by François-Hubert Drouais, 1773. 

Drouais' 1773 portrait depicts Marie Antoinette in an embellished court gown that leaves no question as to the wealth and status of the paintings' subject. This pink gown features delicate lace ruffles, embroidery, and flowers weaved in with delicate silver tissue. The exquisiteness of the gown is accented by the truly extravagant necklace, which features large jewels that reflect the colors of the surrounding gown. I can't help but draw a parallel with this sumptuous gown and its artificial flowers inlaid with silver tissue and the portrait of a very young Marie Antoinette, a garland of real flowers draped on her tiny shoulders.

 

The coronation of Louis XVI Accompanied by Marie Antoinette by a French artist, 18th century. 

This allegorical portrait depicts Marie Antoinette in a striking eye-catching pink gown that contrasts beautifully with the blue coronation robes of Louis XVI, along with a swoop of her own blue robe that you can see draped around her shoulder. The gown features an enormous, formal pannier that, combined with the sumptous of the gown's bodice and late details, makes it immediately clear who the woman next to Louis XVI is meant to be.

A portrait of Marie Antoinete from the school of François Dumont, circa late 1770s.

 

This simple miniature portrait of Marie Antoinette does not reveal much of the anglaise-style gown, other than a hint of salmon-pink gown to match the garland of flowers draped around her high hairstyle. In her Memoirs, Madame Campan would note that after she turned 25, Marie Antoinette began to worry that flowers were no longer becoming on her:

 "Madame Bertin having brought a wreath for the head and neck, composed of roses, the Queen feared that the brightness of the flowers might be disadvantageous to her complexion. She was unquestionably too severe upon herself, her beauty having as yet experienced no alteration; it is easy to conceive the concert of praise and compliment that replied to the doubt she had expressed. The Queen, approaching me, said, “I charge you, from this day, to give me notice when flowers shall cease to become me." .

A collage of pink fabric from the Gazette des atours de Marie Antoinette, 1782.

 

 

The gazette des atours de Marie Antoinette was used by the woman in charge of the queen's wardrobe to keep track of orders fulfilled and paid. The 1782 gazette, located in the French national archives, reveals a wealth of information about the type of clothing Marie Antoinette ordered and wore during this year. Among the fabrics are several pink shades, including the four selected fabrics above.

A miniature of Marie Antoinette by François Dumont, 1784.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This miniature is the last known portrait of Marie Antoinette wearing pink--although it is entirely possibly that there are later portraits that were simply lost. In this portrait, we can already see that Marie Antoinette has adopted the wider, less fanciful hairstyles that she began sporting after the turn of the decade. The gown itself is an excellent example of the shifting styles for the elite in this time period. Gone are the endless and expensive lace and embroidery embellishments. High quality fabric and a translucent fichu are instead prominent, highlighting a style that looks refined without being ostentatious.

Book Review: A Georgian Heroine, the Intriguing Life of Rachel Charlotte Williams Biggs by Joanne Major and Sarah Murden

A Georgian Heroine: The Intriguing Life of Rachel Charlotte Williams Biggs by Joanne Major and Sarah Murden is an exploration of the life of a woman who, though not a major public figure kept in the public eye down the centuries like some of her contemporaries, nonetheless led a life that was at turns tragic and triumphant.

Rachel Charlotte Williams Biggs, who would later prefer to go by "Charlotte," was born into a respectable family with some, though not exceptional, wealth. The primary events of Charlotte's story as covered in this book begin with horror: she was targeted by a neighbor who kidnapped, raped and imprisoned her. When she was finally able to return home, her father was so shocked at her appearance that he challenged the neighbor to a duel. 

Although she managed to escape him once, she was later brought back under his control after being kidnapped and taken by barge to a secluded estate. She would later manage to leave with the assistance of Benjamin Hunt Biggs, and she turned to France, where she--like many others--was swept up in the events of the French Revolution. After her time in France, she took to both writing and politics in an effort to share her story and make an impact on the world around her. She was involved in some form of espionage and her correspondence from her later years is at turns politically adventurous and bittersweet, particularly in regards to her re-connection with and old flame.

The snippets from her little known play, What Is She? stood out to me for incorporating what can easily be read as Charlotte's sentiments regarding her own experiences.

"But where [to] find such a lover, such sincerity? Where is the man who has not to reproach himself with the misery of women? Is there a female who has not, some time in her life, been the victim of her sensibility? ... At an age when our hearts are tender, and our reason weak, we make the choice which is to fix our destiny forever..."

As the authors relate, Charlotte's version of events, both in regards to her second imprisonment and her years in France, do not always line up the known facts. For example, in some instances the authors tracked down moments where Charlotte claimed to have been in certain regions of France during the Revolution when the facts suggest she was in a different location altogether. What was her reason for lying, in this case? To spice up her story? Was she confusing her own experiences with that of someone else, and her memory was confused by time and stress? The answers are not always clear.

I greatly appreciated it when the authors pointed out that Charlotte may have been exaggerating or otherwise confusing her own narrative with those of the people around her. I also appreciated the amount of effort it must have taken to find the various letters and texts included in this book, all of which helped flesh out a greater understanding of Charlotte's unique life. 

 Retracing the steps of someone who did not necessarily make a big, public splash on history is not always easy. But Murden and Major have definitely stepped up to the plate in regards to fleshing out the life of Rachel Charlotte William Biggs as much as possible. 

I would recommend A Georgian Heroine: The Intriguing Life of Rachel Charlotte Williams Biggs for anyone who is interested in learning about a little-known woman from history whose story, alternatively tragic and triumphant, deserves to be known.

[A review copy of this book was provided to me by the publisher]

What They Said Saturday: "... the royal family forgetting themselves in their anxiety for those around them."

'What They Said' Saturday: a day for quotations of all kinds, including excerpts from letters written by Marie Antoinette and her contemporaries, memoirs, non-fiction, novels and everything in between.

 

 image: The Royal Family in the Temple, reproduced on a postcard

 

When the royal family was originally moved to the Temple, the Great Tower--where it was decreed the family would be held--was not yet prepared for residence, as it had been neglected in recent years. It was decided that the family would be temporarily kept in the little Tower, using furniture taken from the Tuileries, until the Great Tower could be properly furnished; and more importantly, until it could be properly fortified so that it could be kept isolated and guarded from the outside. 

 

In her memoirs, the duchesse de Tourzel recalls the early days of the family's captivity; the duchesse, along with her daughter and the Princesse de Lamballe, would later be arrested and taken away from the Temple. In the meantime, however, she recalls how the royal family enjoyed an uneasy yet intimate family life.

As the Queen's room was the largest, we occupied it during the day, the king also coming down to it early in the morning. ... a Commissioner of the Commune, who was changed every hour, was always in the room where they were. The royal family conversed to kindly with all of them that they succeeded in making an impression on several.

At meal-times we went down to a room underneath that of the Queen, which we used as a dining room, and at five o'clock in the evening their Majesties took a walk in the garden, for they dared not let Mgr. the Dauphin go out alone, for fear of giving the Commissioners the idea of taking possession of him. On this subject they several times heard very sinister remarks which they pretended they did not hear, and the promenade lasted sufficiently long for the two children to get the fresh air so necessary for them, the royal family forgetting themselves in their anxiety for those around them.

JSTOR Expanded Access: Royal "Matronage" of Women Artists in the Late-18th Century by Heidi A. Strobel

 JSTOR announced earlier this month that they will be provided expanded access through 2020 due to the COVID-19 pandemic. This expanded access includes free read-online access for 100 articles per month through December 31st, 2020.

Note: You will need to log in to a JSTOR account to access this article. Accounts are free, so sign up and enjoy!

Royal "Matronage" of Women Artists in the Late-18th Century by Heidi A. Strobel

An examination of the popular tendency for female nobility to support the patronage of women artists during the latter half of the 18th century.

Book Review: Walcheren to Waterloo, The British Army inthe Low Countries During French Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars by Andrew Limm

Much has been made of the greatest successes of the British army during the French Revolutionary and subsequent Napoleonic wars--but what of the campaigns which tend to be glossed over due to their relative and sometimes catastrophic failures? In Walcheren to Waterloo: The British Army in the Low Countries during French Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars 1793–1815, Andrew Limm tackles a period often ignored by military and social historians alike in favor of Britain's symbolically glorious battles: the British army's failures in the Low Countries, spanning from 1793 through 1815.

The heavy focus on the British military success during its decades-long skirmishes with France has its history, as Limm notes in his introduction, in a sweeping histiographical tradition which began in the 19th century; this tradition is rooted in the need to boost British morale and paint a picture of the British military in all of its triumphs, not its failures. Subsequently, the battles that were lost, the campaigns which failed, and the sometimes shocking lack of preparation are swept aside in favor of Hollywood-esque portrayals of the grand victories that have been the subject of dozens of books. Walcheren to Waterloo is therefore a notable and sometimes sobering contrast that provides a critical look at the failures which led to defeat after defeat in the Low Countries.

The first few chapters of the book lay down the foundational context for the campaigns covered in the second half. Some readers may quickly note that only four of the six British campaigns in the Low Countries are covered in this book. Although I wish the other two have been covered for completion's sake, since the book itself errs on the succinct side, the four campaigns covered work well enough as an introduction and readers who want to know more about the remaining two engagements will be able to springboard from 'Walcheren to Waterloo' into further reading.

Limm's analysis is frequently punctuated by contemporary accounts of these battles which have not been frequently studied or published in comparison to accounts from Britain's more successful campaigns. These accounts provide a compelling and necessary ground view of the Low Countries campaigns. In his exploration of the 1799 Anglo-Russian campaign into the Helder, Limm provides a quote from Sir John Moore (1761-1809) that deftly summarizes many of the problems that would plague the Low Countries campaigns as a whole:

"My brigade, as a consequence of five hours' constant movement and action in so broken a country, were dispersed and infinitely fatigued and from the absence of some of the regiments which had not been able to keep up on the left, the enemy had struck upon the flank of the 25th Regiment, which was the mmost forward. The fire was extremely galling. Three companies of the 92nd regiment were sent to their support; but coming in so incautiously into so hot a fire, they suffered prodigiously, and the whole began to give way..."

Moore was shot soon after and he noted that "Just before I received this shot I saw the impossibility of rallying or stopping my men under such hot fire."

While Limm's text is largely readable, there were some occasions where I did need to do some quick online research to clarify an unexplained name, battle or unit number.  I feel that readers who already have a solid knowledge in the French Revolutionary and Napoleonic wars may not need to do as much searching as I did, but I admittedly am not well-versed on the technical aspects of French Revolutionary and Napoleonic military campaigns.

Overall, Walcheren to Waterloo: The British Army in the Low Countries during French Revolutionary and Napoleonic Wars 1793–1815 by Andrew Limm (Pen and Sword Books) is a compact yet interesting piece often missing from the larger puzzle of British military campaigns during this chaotic time period. I recommend this book to anyone who wants an introduction to this often-ignored aspect of Britain's military engagements with France from 1793 through 1815.

[A review copy of this book was provided to me by the publisher] 

Women's History Month: "They ruled society..."

Women's History Month: A month celebrating women of history! I will be posting media and book recommendations, highlighting women from (mostly) the 18th century, and otherwise sharing content with an emphasis on women in history.

"They ruled society, as women of the world; the empire of letters, as patronesses of the fine arts; the state, as favorites and advisers of kings. They gave the tone to feeling, philosophy and thought. Their caprice made wars, and signed treaties of peace. They hastened the fall of a Monarchy, and the outbreak of the greatest Revolution of modern times. They could attempt to check or direct that Revolution in its rapid and fearful course; they shared to the fullest extent its errors, its crimes, and its heroic virtues.

… Though the historians of the period have never fully or willingly acknowledged its existence, their silence cannot efface that which has been; and without that rule of woman, so reluctantly recognized, many of their pages of statesman’s policy, court intrigue, civil strife, or foreign war, need never have been written."

–Julia Kavanagh, Woman in France During the Eighteenth century, 1850

Women's History Month: A poem by Mah Laqa Bai (1768-1824)

Women's History Month: A month celebrating women of history! I will be posting media and book recommendations, highlighting women from (mostly) the 18th century, and otherwise sharing content with an emphasis on women in history.

[image: Mah Laqa Bai singing in the presence of Raja Rao Rambha Bahadur, 1799. Unknown artist.]

Mah Laqa Bai (originally Chanda Bibi) (1768-1824) was a respected, influential poet and courtesan. As a young girl, she was given an exemplary education and was invited into the inner circles of high ranking officials. She accompanied the second Nizam of the Hyderabad State into three wars, where she was well-known for her horseriding and archery skills; she was routinely awarded with lands, appointed to the highest circle of nobility, and given the honorary title Mah Laqa--which means "Visage of the Moon."

One of Mah Laqa Bai's most notable accomplishments was her poetry, which was well-received and published in several different collections. One collection, titled Diwan e Chanda, contained a stunning 125 ghazals. She became the first women to read her poems at a mushaira, or spoken poetic symposium, which was traditionally reserved for men. In some cases, she sung her poetry or sung poetry and songs written by other prominent courtiers and nobility. 

Upon her death, she left all her properties (which included copious amounts of jewelry, silver, gold and lands) to homeless women in Hyderabad.

This poem is from Gulzar-e-Mahlaqa, a collection of 39 ghazals written by Mah Laqa Bai; the collection was published in 1824, after her death.

 

Hoping to blossom (one day) into a flower

Hoping to blossom (one day) into a flower,
Every bud sits, holding its soul in its fist.

Between the fear of the fowler and (approaching) autumn,
The bulbul’s life hangs by a thread.

Thy sly glance is more murderous than arrow or sword;
It has shed the blood of many lover.

How can I like a candle to thy (glowing) cheek?
The candle is blind with the fat in its eyes.

How can Chanda be dry-lipped. O Saqi of the heavenly wine!
She has drained the cup of thy love 

 

Translated by Syed Sirajuddin; published in 'Women Writing in India: 600 B.C. to the early twentieth century,' edited by Susie J. Tharu and Ke Lalita.

Women's History Month: "A Petition To April" by Susanna Blamire (1747-1794)

[image: A portrait of Susanna Blamire by Giacomo Cambruzzi, 18th century]

Susanna Blamire (1747-1794) was an English poet whose prolific and well-regarded poetry earned her the nickname the "Muse of Cumberland." Most of her poetry was publsihed after her death, but she did submit some of her works to public view. In addition to poetry, Blamire worte songs, including a song ("The Siller Croun") which was referenced in Charles Dickens' The Old Curiosity Shop. In 1947, Scottish literary figure Hugh MacDiarmid said that Blamire's songs "can be set beside the best that have ever been produced by Scotsmen writing in their own tongue."

Blamire was frequently ill due to recurrent rheumatic heart disease. A few of her poems were marked as being written during periods of illness, including the below work which--fittingly, for Blamire and many of us in the world today--hopes for a renewed future in the coming spring.

A Petition to April, Written During Sickness, 1793

Sweet April! month of all the year
That loves to shed the dewy tear,
And with a soft but chilly hand
The silken leaves of flowers expand;
Thy tear--set eye shall I ne'er see
Weep o'er a sickly plant like me?
Thou art the nurse of infant flowers,
The parent of relenting showers;
Thy tears and smiles when newly born
Hang on the cheek of weeping Morn,
While Evening sighs in seeming grief
O'er frost--nipp'd bud or bursting leaf.
Once Pity held thee in her arms,
And, breathing all her gentle charms,
Bade thy meek smile o'ertake the tear,
And Hope break loose from trembling Fear;
Bade clouds that load the breast of Day
On melting Twilight weep away;
She bade thee, when the breezy Morn
Kiss'd the sweet gem that deck'd the thorn,
O'er the pale primrose softly pour
The nectar of a balmy shower;
And is the primrose dear to thee?
And wilt thou not give health to me?
See how I droop! my strength decays,
And life wears out a thousand ways;
Supporting friends their cordials give,
And wish, and hope, and bid me live;
With this short breath it may not be,
Unless thou lend'st a sigh to me.
O! fan me with a gentler breeze;
Invite me forth with busy bees;
And bid me trip the dewy lawn
Adorn'd with wild flowers newly blown;
O! do not sternly bid me try
The influence of a milder sky;
I know that May can weave her bower,
And spot, and paint, a richer flower;
Nor is her cheek so wan as thine;
Nor is her hand so cold as mine;
Nor bears she thy unconstant mind,
But ah! to me she ne'er was kind.
To thee I'll rear a mossy throne,
And bring the violet yet unblown;
Then teach it just to ope its eye,
And on thy bosom fondly die;
Embalm it in thy tears, and see
If thou hast one more left for me.
In thy pale noon no roses blow,
Nor lilies spread their summer snow;
Nor would I wish this time--worn cheek
In all the blush of health to break;
No; give me ease and cheerful hours,
And take away thy fairer flowers;
So may the rude gales cease to blow,
And every breeze yet milder grow,
Till I in slumber softly sleep,
Or wake but to grow calm and weep;
And o'er thy flowers in pity bend,
Like the soft sorrows of a friend. 

 

 

Women's History Month: 'Plum Flowers' by Seo Yeongsuhap (1753-1823)

 [image: Plum Tree Blooms by ForestWander/CC BY-SA 3.0 US, no changes]

Seo Yeongsuhap (1753-1823) was the daughter of a provincial governor and the wife of a royal official. She had three sons and one daughter; Yeongsuhap, her husband and all of her children were writers and much of their correspondence included or was done entirely in verse.

Yeongsuhap began writing poetry when she and her husband started to exchange correspondence in verse, during a period when he was posted in a rural province. Before her marriage, Yeongsuhap was already a lover of literature: by the time she was 15, she had already read many works, particularly Confucian classics. Her oldest son, Seokju, would later recall that "even by the bed she would speak of the ancients' proverbs and their beautiful deeds as if she were telling a story, and teach verses from the classics."

A collection of 192 poems written by Yeongsuhap was published after her death; the poems were included in the appendix of her husband's book, which also contained recollections from her sons about their mother.

The following poem, Plum Flowers, recalls a moment when as a young girl, Yeongsuhap saw beautiful plum flowers upon entering the house of a high government official.

Plum Flowers
[translation:Translated by Won-Jae Hur; published in The Poetic World of Classic Korean Women Writers, Volume 9]

My first step through the gate as a child
Plum flowers ready to bloom near the wall
Fragile pistils hung by the red rail
Here and there thin branches drooping over the green steps

I thought it was an official's splendid mansion
Yet it was as plain as a scholar's hut
Time has passed and speaks of ageing
Fragile flowers bloom on the remaining branches

You can read more about Yeongsuhap along with several of her poems in The Poetic World of Classic Korean Women Writers, Volume 9.

Women's History Month: Anastasia Robinson

Women's History Month: A month celebrating women of history! I will be posting media and book recommendations, highlighting women from (mostly) the 18th century, and otherwise sharing content with an emphasis on women in history.

[image: Engraving proof of Anastasia Robinson by John Faber the Younger, after a portrait bo John Vanderbgank. Circa 1727.]

Anastasia Robinson (c.1692-1755) was an English singer who became well-known for her work with the famous composer George Handel.

Robinson was the daughter of Thomas Robinson, a portrait painter. She received private musical tutoring from an early age and performed primarily at private concerts, where she would both play and sing. By the time she was in her early 20s, she was already associated with George Handel; in 1714, he wrote a solo soprano role in his composition 'Ode for the Birthday of Queen Anne' specifically for Robinson. She joined Handel's company in 1714 and made an official debut in 'Creso,' a pasticcio (a type of composite performance).

In 1719, an unknown factor caused Robinson's voice to change. It was during this year that she began singing contralto roles, rather than her former soprano music. It was also during this period that her father's eyesight began failing and she decided to turn her talent into a profession that would bring in an income for herself and her family. She was hired into Handel's Royal Academy of Music, founded in 1720, and began earning £1000 a year for her work. She originated numerous roles in Handel's most famous operas. In 1722 or 173, she secretly married Charles Mordaunt, 3rd Earl of Peterborough; although they were married, he did not acknowledge her publicly as his wife, and she was viewed as his mistress until 1735 when he finally acknowledged their marriage.

Her most famous role was that of Cornelia in Handel's dramatic Giulio Cesare, which would become his most well-regarded and today, most frequently performed work. Cornelia's arias and music for this work are some of the most moving in Handel's entire repertoire, and one must imagine the faith Handel had in Robinson to

Although it would be her most famous role, Robinson retired shortly after the premiere of Giulio Cesare. Although she retired from the professional stage, she was still involved in the world of music and theater; her home in Parsons Green, which she lived on with her retirement earnigs as well as money from her secret husband, became a hub for musicians to train and perform.

After the death of her husband in 1735, she began living at his family residence; she died in 1755.

One of the most moving moments in for Cornelia in Giulio Cesare is Priva son d'ogni conforto, her Act I aria. Cornelia was foiled in her attempted suicide, which she attempted after the murder of her husband, and in this aria expresses her sadness and grief.