Culling my research library

While we are all thinking about New Year resolutions, I am reminded of the horror with which I contemplated the hideous prospect of getting rid of my books. Moving house became imminent at the beginning of the year and there was no way I was going to be able to take them all with me. But oh, my research books!

I used to have a huge seven foot high bookcase full of material covering all aspects of life, mostly from the 18th Century with a smattering of books on other periods along with my crime library concerning investigations and murder. The move, when it came, was to a really tiny flat, and that bookcase was not going to fit in.

I had to make some crucial decisions. I had room only for one largish bookcase. I managed to create space for a couple of small ones and most of the books that fell by the wayside were novels, I'm afraid. Culling my research books proved well-nigh impossible, but I did get rid of those I decided I was never going to have time to use. I absolutely had to keep the main ones relating to the Georgian and Regency periods, many of which I cannot do without.

The most used is Cunnington’s Handbook of English Costume in the Eighteenth Century, without which I couldn’t function, although I usually leave these descriptions to the editing stage. The great thing about Cunnington is the detail, from fabrics to accessories, with year on year changes for both men and women.

She details everything, from bonnets and hairstyles, to materials used and when they were fashionable, whether women wore ruffles, what colours were worn when to such intimate little gems as false bosoms and using mouse skin artificial eyebrows. What about this little aid to beauty?

"Cork Plumpers were occasionally worn to restore roundness to the hollow cheek."

Invaluable material.

One book on antiques has a useful set of images depicting the way rooms actually looked, as well as individual items of furniture - for which I’ve also got Chippendale’s workbook. Ackermann helps with scenes of London, such as Brooks’s, Astley’s Amphitheatre, Covent Garden and the Pantheon. The Romance of the Road gives two whole journeys from London to Bath and London to Portsmouth in drawings, so you get distances, inns and the likely traffic. I had to hang on to my books on Georgian cookery, and all those books with satirical drawings are wonderfully evocative of the period.

Setting is vital and I’m in love with my book of maps from the late 18^th century covering the entire country. I’ve also got London and greater London A-Z style maps, and a whole raft of detailed Victorian books about London and surrounding districts with interesting snippets, like who lived where, what’s there and the history behind it, plus sketches.

Of course there is the internet, and I will dive into Google for little facts and figures. For example, an expression so common to us now like "mad as a hatter" might not have been current in the period. Google is excellent for little things like that. And for details about old inns, towns and distances from place to place.

Pinterest is a mine of useful images. You can pretty much find out what anything looked like, from a copper foot warmer to how a lady manages the exigencies of ordinary life wearing all those petticoats. I add to my boards all the time, though whether I shall ever be able to find the exact image I need at any given moment is a moot point.

I like images best because they help me picture the scene, and I can garner textual stuff to furnish detail. It’s amazing how it puts me into the period in my head, which in turn enables me to write it for the reader to imagine.

This is what I love about books, and why research is vital. You can’t detail everything you’ve read. Instead you draw the scene in brush strokes of words, letting the reader fill in the gaps. I have to immerse myself in the data, even if only about 10% ends up in the book.

To be honest, I’m far too apt to lose myself in the books and forget what I’m actually looking for. One piece of research leads to another, besides throwing up new plot points I hadn’t thought of. Research for me is as much part of the process of writing as it is exploration of the period.

Just as well I've managed to hang on to most of my precious books!

Happy New Year
Elizabeth Bailey

Happy Birthday, Jane Austen!

Jane Austen born at Steventon Rectory, Hampshire on a freezing December 16th, in 1775, and today is her 243th birthday. She is many people's  favourite author - including myself, so here is Rudyard Kipling's poem in her honour.

Jane went to Paradise: 
That was only fair.
Good Sir Walter followed her,
And armed her up the stair.
Henry and Tobias,
And Miguel of Spain,
Stood with Shakespeare at the top
To welcome Jane.

Then the Three Archangels
Offered out of hand,
Anything in Heaven’s gift
That she might command.
Azrael’s eyes upon her,
Raphael’s wings above,
Michael’s sword against her heart,
Jane said, ‘Love.’

Instantly the under-
Standing Seraphim
Laid their fingers to their lips
And went to look for him.
Stole across the Zodiac,
Harnessed Charles’s Wain,
And whispered round the Nebulæ
‘Who loved Jane?’

In a private limbo
Where none had thought to look,
Sat a Hampshire gentleman
Reading of a book.
It was called Persuasion
And it told the plain
Story of the love between
Him and Jane.

He heard the question
Circle Heaven through –
Closed the book and answered:
‘I did – and do!’
Quietly but speedily
(as Captain Wentworth moved)
Entered into Paradise
The man Jane loved!

Jane lies in Winchester, blessed be her shade!
Praise the Lord for making her, and her for all she made.
And, while the stones of Winchester – or Milsom Street – remain,
Glory, Love, and Honour unto England’s Jane!

Happy Birthday, Jane!

Elizabeth Hawksley

The Romanovs: Every Jewel has a Story

The new exhibition at the Queen’s Gallery, Russia, Royalty & the Romanovs, is, as you might expect, a feast for the eyes, especially if you love Fabergé and late 19^th century Russian jewellery – and who doesn’t? I thought, on this chilly December day, you might enjoy a peek at some of the treasures.

Fabergé Basket of Flowers Egg, 1901

I'm starting with a love story which, alas, ended tragically: Princess Charlotte (1796-1817), only child of the Prince Regent, later King George IV, and heir presumptive to the throne, and the handsome Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg who arrived in London in 1814, in the train of Tsar Alexander I who was there, as Britain's ally, for the premature Peace Celebrations to mark the defeat of Napoleon and his exile to the island of Elba. I can find no record of whether Charlotte actually met the Tsar, but she certainly met Prince Leopold, and they fell in love. She immediately met opposition from the Prince Regent, who wanted her to marry William of Orange, but Charlotte persisted and, eventually, she and Leopold were married on 2^nd May, 1816.  

Princess Charlotte, portrait after George Dawe, 1817, wearing a sarafan dress

In the George Dawe 1817 portrait of Princess Charlottte, she is wearing a traditional Russian sarafan, or, more accurately, an English version based loosely on the sarafan. She is also wearing the Star of the Order of St Catherine, given to her by Tsar Alexander  I, which suggests that she might have met him.

The actual sarafan dress

The actual dress is also shown above. The sarafan is, in fact, a pinafore dress and the Princess wore it over an embroidered linen blouse. The blue silk pinafore has a drawstring under the bust which allows it to be loosened as her pregnancy took its course. The gold lace braid incorporating crimson silk was made in London.

Tragically, Princess Charlotte died in childbirth in 1817. Two years later, Princess Alexandrina Victoria (incidentally, Princess Charlotte's first cousin, and later to be Queen Victoria) was born, Tsar Alexander became little Drina's godfather. The friendship between the Russian and British royal families was firmly established, and, until the Russian Revolution put a stop to it, gifts were constantly exchanged and a number of Anglo-Russian royal marriages took place. 

Portrait miniature of Maria Feodorovna, née Princess Dagmar of Denmark, in a Fabergé frame, about 1895 

In 1862, Queen Victoria’s eldest son, Albert Edward, married the Danish Princess, Alexandra. Four years later, in 1866, Alexandra’s sister, Dagmar, made a spectacular marriage to Tsar Alexander III, changing her name to Maria Feodorovna. The two countries’ ties became even closer.    

Casket of nephrite jade, with gold, silver, rubies, emerald and pearl decoration by Pavel Ovchinnikiv (1830-88), 7 x 17 x 10 cms. 

In 1874, Queen Victoria’s second son, Alfred, Duke of Edinburgh, married the Grand Duchess Maria Alexandrovna of Russia, daughter of Tsar Alexander II and the couple were given the above casket. 

Jewel flowers: l to r  Fabergé philadelphus: rock crystal, gold, nephrite, quartzite and olivines, 1900;  H.I. Wigstrom chrysanthemum: rock crystal, gold, nephrite, enamel, 1908; Fabergé pansy rock crystal, gold, enamel, nephrite and brilliant diamond, 1900

Two of Queen Victoria’s grand-daughters also married into the Romanov family; the Princesses Elisabeth and Alix of Hesse, daughters of the Queen’s second daughter, Princess Alice. Princess Elisabeth married the Grand Duke Sergei in 1884 and, most spectacular of all, Princess Alix, renamed Alexandra Feodorovna, married Tsar Nicholas II in 1894.

 Fabergé Mosaic egg and surprise, 1914

This egg is a technical masterpiece. It was commissioned by Tsar Nicholas II but never collected and it was subsequently confiscated by the Bolsheviks. Its construction is ingenious, it has an egg-shaped yellow gold and platinum lattice frame into which tiny brilliant diamonds, rose cut diamonds, emeralds, topazes, sapphires, garnets, half pearls, and moonstones have been inserted creating a petit point tapestry effect.

The 'surprise' inside is a jewelled and enamelled miniature of the silhouettes of the Tsar and Tsarina's five children, l - r in order of birth: Olga, Tatiana, Maria, Anastasia and Alexei. The designer was the Finnish Alma Theresia Pihi, who worked for Fabergé. 

 Fabergé silver, amethyst and diamond brooch, c.1909

This brooch was given to Princess Mary, later Queen Mary, in 1909 by the Tsar Nicholas II and the Tsarina Alexandra during their visit to Cowes to enjoy the regatta. Their whole family was there; it was to be the last time that the two Royal families met before the First World War broke out. They dined on each others' yachts.  

Siberian amethysts are famed for their intense purple hue as you can see from the example above. It is a hexagon with a diamond framed border and a diamond bow at the top. It can be worn as a brooch or as a pendant. 

Fabergé cigarette case, 1908

     This vivid Art Nouveau royal blue moiré guilloché enamel Fabergé cigarette case with a sinuous two colour gold snake decorated with brilliant and rosé cut diamonds grasping its tail in its mouth was given to King Edward VII by his mistress, Mrs Keppel in 1908. The snake holding it's own tail is a symbol of  everlasting love. It is noticeably plainer than most Fabergé  objects we see associated with royalty - but it is supremely elegant. - as, indeed was Mrs Keppel.

Contrary to what one might expect, Queen Alexandra approved of Mrs Keppel who was kind, generous and tactful, and could always cheer up the King when he was moody. Alexandra even allowed Mrs Keppel to visit him to say good-bye when he was dying.

After his death, Queen Alexandra returned the cigarette case to Mrs Keppel, who remained on the Dowager Queen's guest list. That changed when Queen Alexandra died in 1925. Court life under Queen Mary and King George was much stricter (and possibly duller) and Mrs Keppel was firmly dropped. Then, in 1936, Mrs Keppel returned the cigarette case to Queen Mary so that it could always stay in the Royal Collection.

An interesting move and I can't help wondering why she did it. I don't altogether buy the 'official' reason.  

Vladimir tiara made by court jeweller Bolin for the Grand Duchess Maria Pavlovna, wife of  Grand Duke Vladimir, 3rd son of Tsar Alexander II, 1874

This beautiful tiara is made of interlocking diamond circles set in gold and silver with pear-shaped pearl drops. It also has an extraordinary story. The Grand Duchess Maria, the first owner of the tiara, was living in the sumptuous Vladimir Palace in St Petersburg when the Russian Revolution broke out. 

In 1917, things got too hot and she fled, leaving her jewels hidden in her bedroom. But exile was expensive and she soon needed money. At the point, the story began to remind me of the Edwardian anti-hero, Raffles, creation of the novelist E. W. Hornung. Raffles, an ex-public school and gentleman burglar with bags of charm, is invited to various country houses, accompanied by his ex-fag, Bunny as his valet, where he steals the other guests'jewels.. Naturally he gets away with it.   

The Grand Duchess's son, Boris, accompanied by a British friend, Bertie Stopford, an art dealer with diplomatic ties (or, in some versions, a spy) came up with a highly dangerous plan. Disguised as workmen, they managed to gain access to the Vladimir Palace, get into the Grand Duchess's bedroom, retrieve the jewels and smuggle them out in the diplomatic bag. The jewels were taken to London but, en route, some of them were damaged. 

In 1920, Maria was the last Grand Duchess to escape from Russia; her journey, via Italy and France, was traumatic and she died a few years' later, leaving her jewellery to her daughter, Elena, Queen of Greece and Denmark - and, incidentally, Prince Philip's aunt.

Queen Mary, who loved collecting objects once owned by her murdered Russian relations, bought a number of jewels from Elena, including the Vladimir tiara. It was in a bad state and needed restoring. Queen Mary wanted to make it more adaptable and it now has emerald drops as well as the original pear-shaped pearls.   

So, dear reader, if you want an idea for a novel, you could do a lot worse than go for the story of the Vladimir tiara.

The exhibition, Russia: Royalty & the Romanovs, is on at the Queen's Gallery until 28th April, 2019. It is well worth seeing and it certainly has the 'Wow!' factor.

I did a companion blog on the exhibition itself on 18th November, 2018 on my http://elizabethhawksley.com website. I have listed it under 'Exhibitions', 'Royal Connections', 'Celebrating the Arts' and 'Victorian Age' categories. 

Photographs: courtesy of the Royal Collection Trust, Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, 2018 

Elizabeth Hawksley   

The fascination and process of using the amnesia trope

A quick search on Amazon for “amnesia historical romance” produces 221 results. If you cut out the historical and go for “amnesia romance” you get 1000 results. I should say that makes it quite a popular theme among authors.

Personally, I’ve used it twice. In A Trace of Memory, our hero finds the heroine wandering in his woods, dishevelled and unable to remember who she is or how she got there. Of his two sisters, who are with him, one believes Elaine genuine, while the other suggests she is guilty of an elaborate ploy to entrap the eligible earl. Nevertheless, they take her in and look after her, although Charles is in two minds.

My current book just launched features another earl who is thrown from his curricle and injured. Widow Chloe takes him in but when he wakes his memory is missing. In this scenario, his identity is known as he has a groom with him, but Lance has no idea who he is and the story revolves around his mistaking Chloe for his lost love, Clarissa.

The working out of an amnesia plot follows the same pattern as any other Regency story. Boy meets girl. Attraction is followed by complications which, when resolved, result in the happily ever after – or at least a hope of it. The interesting bit comes in how much we can develop the symptoms and progress of the condition and how much that influences the story.

An amnesiac, by definition, has an impaired memory. We are not talking here of the distressing condition of the gradual onset of dementia which we know is not going to go away. For the purposes of romance, that would be impossible. But a knock on the head can produce a more immediately severe condition that is, we hope, temporary.

The trick lies in how much memory our amnesiac discovers through the story. How much of the mystery do we choose to reveal, piece by piece? What triggers can we use to build even a vague picture of this person’s past, and indeed of their character? The opportunities are legion and the development of the story depends upon those choices.

You can, for example, change a man’s whole character, as demonstrated by Harrison Ford in the film “Regarding Henry” where the hero survives a bullet and becomes a completely different individual, warmer and loathing what he learns of the man he used to be.

With Widow in Mistletoe, a dream-induced memory of Clarissa pitches Lance into the first and major complication since Chloe resembles her. He also begins to discover an arrogant attitude he had as a lord that he now deprecates. His confusions abound and he begins to fear for his reason. Chloe becomes the only stable point in his new existence.

I must say that as I was writing the story, I didn’t work this out ahead. It grew in the writing. Logic dictated that in a person who still has their faculties, the loss of memory must be distressing – unlike with dementia where often the victim does not realise they even have the condition. This presented scope for plenty of drama and the story became quite dark in places. It’s hardly gothic, but the psychological disturbance creates that darkness.

I wonder if this is the magnet that drives authors to the trope? The fascination with the psychological aspects of the condition and how that affects the victim and the people around them has so many possible permutations that it’s unlikely any one story is repeated elsewhere.

Nevertheless, I think it’s a risky trope. Easy to overplay or underplay it. For example, what of the convenient second accident that miraculously recovers the memory lock, stock and barrel? I suspect any amnesiac will retain hidden pockets that prove elusive. Far more believable to allow snippets to appear here and there and perhaps widen as familiar territory helps to jog them into more coherent memories.

I left my hero incomplete, I’m afraid, but at least with sufficient recognition to know who he was really in love with!

Elizabeth Bailey

An overturned curricle creates a vanished memory. When Chloe takes in the injured lord, she puts her heart in danger. Dare she hope Lance may realise she is not his dead betrothed and learn to love her for herself?

Available from Amazon

Available from other stores

Boundless

The last book in the Shaws series is out next month, but instead of a straight "buy me," post, I'd prefer to talk about an aspect of the story.

Orphanages. At the start of Boundless, Livia is attacked by some skinny children from the orphanage she has just visited.
Georgian London had good ones and bad ones.

Thomas Coram's Foundling Hospital

The best was the famous Foundling Hospital which Thomas Coram helped to establish. A retired sea captain, he used his fortune to fund the school for children who needed a good upbringing. The children weren't strictly orphans, but they came from parents who could not afford to bring them up. In effect, the parents gave their babies away. They left little tokens so they could identify the child if they were ever in a position to reclaim them. The Hospital has a pathetic and terribly sad collection of them that you can go and see today. As far as is known, not one parent returned to claim their child, and if they had, since the tokens were removed it would have been almost impossible to recognise them.
The children were brought up strictly to be good Christians and to have a trade. Eventually they'd be apprenticed out or sent as servants somewhere.
And that was the good version.

In the bad one, like the one my heroine Livia visited, the orphanage was little better than a thieves' kitchen. they were taught a trade all right, but that might be pickpocketing or burglary. Remember Fagin in Oliver Twist? That was written when the rookeries were still swamps of filth and danger in the middle of London - turn the wrong way on The Strand and you could find yourself in an area the authorities left alone, and if you were wearing good clothes, you might not come out alive.
Livia mistakenly visits the kind of orphanage where children were trained to steal, and my hero has to rescue her. Oliver is very attracted to Livia, and astonished to see her in this part of London, but from that moment their fate is set.
And you'll have to read Boundless to find out what happens next!

*****

She’s the unlikely wallflower of the extraordinary Shaw family.  A woman who will never marry, but not for the reasons you might think . . .
 
Attacked on the streets of London, Lady Livia Shaw is relieved when a gentleman comes to her aid—and startled to discover her rescuer is Adrian, the Duke of Preston, a notorious rogue. But their association—and instant attraction—does not end there, much to the Shaws’ distress. For Livia was robbed of a memento—one that is both her most precious possession and a reminder of a shameful secret. It is a secret she knows will cause her to lose Adrian forever, yet he is determined to track down the thief . . .

Adrian never wanted to be anyone’s hero, but now he’s finding the prospect as pleasing as he does Livia’s company, and her beauty. Certainly he wants her in his bed, but what surprises him is how much she comes to mean to him. Which is why the revelation of her scandalous past is nearly his undoing. Arrogantly, he had assumed only he had the power to shock. But it is too late to turn back, and now Adrian may have to risk everything for Livia, even his heart . . .

You can preorder the book here!

The inspirational power of water

As a writer, I need inspiration and I find water is one of the most inspiring elements.  Whether it is looking out over the Bristol Channel at the end of a long sunny day, or watching the restless sea beating on the Devon coast, I just can't get enough of the view. It sets the creative juices flowing. 

 Writers need contrast in their books, so I need inspiration for the reflective scenes as much as for the exciting ones, and water provides that. Perhaps it is because we live on an island, we are never very far from water and for someone who writes about Georgian England, water is important. 

HMS Trincomalee, Hartlepool

Along with coal, it powered the industrial revolution, and provided trade routes around the coast or via the rivers and canals for centuries before the roads and railways took over.

Recently I have been travelling around Scotland, where they have, er, an abundance of water. It's everywhere, in the rivers and lochs and around the coast with its thousands of islands. (there is also plenty in the sky, too, but luckily not when we were there!) There was the excited anticipation of setting out on a ferry to the remote island of Jura,

  and the sheer pleasure of sitting in the sun, watching the seals sunning themselves in the bay at Port Charlotte, on Islay.

You might think this would only provide inspiration for seafaring adventures, but not in my case. Although I do have some books set beside the sea, and even on it, many of my books are set in Regency London, or in an English country house, but travelling around and looking at waterfalls and wonderful views over vast expanses of water seems to free the mind to wander where it will, resolving knotty problems about plot providing a route to the necessary happy ending.

But you don't have to travel that far to enjoy the benefits of water, fountains and lakes in city parks can be just as enjoyable, or walking along a canal. Even just soaking in a bath has been known to help when I have been wrestling with a storyline!

Happy reading (and writing).

Melinda Hammond / Sarah Mallory

Beauty & the Brooding Lord

Out now!

There's something about soldiers in scarlet coats.

In Chapter VIII of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, a militia regiment arrives in Meryton, to the delight of Lydia and Kitty Bennet. ‘They could talk of nothing but officers’ and every other topic of conversation ‘was worthless in their eyes when opposed to the regimentals of an ensign.’  Their father calls them ‘two of the silliest girls in the country’,  but Mrs Bennet says wistfully, ‘I remember the time when I liked a red coat myself very well – and, indeed, so I do still at my heart.’

I was reminded of this when I visited the Household Cavalry Museum recently and I have to admit that the sight of soldiers in uniform, wearing crested helmets and scarlet jackets, sitting on gleaming black horses and being put through their paces by an even smarter officer, gladdened my heart, too. I knew just what Mrs Bennet meant. And the hundreds of people watching the Household Cavalry completing the Changing of the Guard in Horse Guards Parade obviously agreed.

Visitors watch the Changing of the Guard ceremony in Horse Guards Parade. 

I went into the Household Cavalry Museum to find out more.

The Household Cavalry is a union of the Life Guards (red jackets) formed by King Charles II on the Restoration of the monarchy in 1660; The Royal Horse Guards, known as ‘The Blues’ (blue jackets), raised in 1650 as part of Cromwell’s New Model Army, and The Royal Dragoons, who were originally based in Tangiers. The Blues and the Royals later amalgamated, hence ‘The Blues and Royals.’

These two cavalry regiments form The Household Cavalry which has several functions; first and foremost, they are soldiers, fighting wherever they are sent; they are currently serving in Afghanistan. Their other important job is to protect the Sovereign; and to undertake various ceremonial duties, such as the State Opening of Parliament, escorting the Sovereign during State visits from foreign heads of state, Royal Weddings and the like. Naturally, their equestrian skills are superb.

Farrier’s axe and officer’s helmet, early 19^th century. The axe was used to kill a badly wounded horse and also to chop the hoof off a dead one which enabled the farrier to prove that the horse was dead and that he could apply for a replacement.

I’ve always been interested in early 19^th century military history, and I was delighted to find that the Household Cavalry Museum was full of splendid uniforms, bloodthirsty weapons and anecdotes of astounding courage; many of which centre on the battle of Waterloo, in June 1815. It was a battle in which both the Life Guards and the Blues and Royals were heavily engaged.

Contemporary ceremonial dress Life Guards and Blues and Royals

Their ceremonial dress is magnificent.  The scarlet jacket belongs to the Life Guards, and the dark blue belongs to the Blues and Royals. The basic design has not changed very much over the centuries.

Lieut. Charles Lorraine’s officer’s full dress coat: The Blues (1795-1800)

If Lieut. Lorraine had been lucky enough to have been invited to the Duchess of Richmond's famous ball on the eve of the battle of Waterloo, this is what he would have worn. It’s made of blue woollen broadcloth with scarlet collar and lapels, gold lace loops and gilt buttons. But the weather that June was notoriously wet and a soaked blue broadcloth jacket would have weighed him down terribly, so perhaps it’s just as well he wasn’t on the guest list. We know that many of the officers at the ball went straight from the ballroom to the battlefield.

 Saddle of an officer in The Blues used at the battle of Waterloo

When Major Harry Smith set out for Brussels to join his regiment before the battle of Waterloo, he took five horses, his wife Juana, himself, his brother Charles, three servants and Juana’s pug-dog with him. And his regiment was only the Rifle Brigade – not a smart cavalry regiment.

Officers had to provide their own saddles and equipment as well as their horses. They also had to buy an officer’s commission, starting at the bottom as a subaltern. To get into a top cavalry regiment, like the Life Guards, was very expensive. It wasn’t until after the fiasco of the Crimean War in the 1850s that officers could enlist without having to pay, and were promoted on merit rather than their ability to buy their way up the career ladder.

John Edwards’ bugle

But you didn’t have to be rich to become well-known in your regiment. Take John Edwards, 1799-1875. He joined the 1^st Life Guards age 9, in 1808, and became a bugler. At Waterloo, he was Field Trumpeter under Major-General Lord Edward Somerset and, aged only 16, he was the person who gave the signal for the decisive charge of the 1^st Life Guards.

John Edwards' memorial card

His story caught the public imagination and his long career became part of the story of his regiment. The elaborate memorial card, crowned with angels holding trumpets, printed after his death in 1875 indicates how well known his story was. It ends with the sentence, ‘Now waiting the trumpet of salvation.’

The eagle of the 105^th regiment

The capture of one of Napoleon’s eagles at Waterloo was cause for great celebration. Napoleon had designed them himself – in emulation of Ancient Rome – and presented them personally to his regiments, so losing one was felt as a disgrace.

A replica of John Shaw’s skull. Sir Walter Scott, who greatly admired Shaw, also had a replica made of his skull

One of the most flamboyant characters in the 2^nd Life Guards was Corporal John Shaw (1789-1815) who was famous for his size – he was over six foot – and strength; he once carried two ponies down stairs, one under each arm (or so the story goes). He took the King’s shilling, that is, he enlisted as a private in 1807 and soon caught the attention his officers by his strength and skill in various regimental exercises. He became a renowned boxer and his entry in the Dictionary of National Biography follows his career with gusto.

John Shaw’s sword and scabbard

On the morning of June 18^th, 1815, he took part in the first charge of the battle. A French cuirassier charged straight at him and Shaw parried the thrust with his sword and finished off the cuirassier by slicing straight through his helmet and skull right down to the chin. He fought ferociously in several other charges but eventually found himself outflanked and surrounded. He killed nine Frenchmen with his sword before it broke, then he tore his helmet off and began to use it as a cestus – that is, a sort of knuckle-duster used by boxers in Ancient Rome. He was eventually killed by a cuirassier sitting a little way off who unsportingly, one feels, shot him with his carbine.

The Earl of Uxbridge’s cork leg

Henry William Paget, Earl of Uxbridge (1768-1854) was a soldier who had fought with great distinction both in Europe and in the Peninsular. He was also a man with a scandalous private life – he had eloped with the Duke of Wellington’s sister-in-law.

The Earl’s knee was shattered by one of the last cannon shots of the battle. He was near Wellington when it happened and exclaimed, ‘By God, sir, I’ve lost my leg!’ To which the Duke replied, coolly, ‘’By God, sir, so you have!’  His unemotional response was possibly caused by his resentment at Uxbridge’s behaviour – though Wellington’s own reputation with regard to the ladies was hardly spotless.

The Earl’s leg had to be amputated above the knee and he had a cork leg made. Dissatisfied with it, he eventually had a fully-articulated prosthetic leg invented for him which creaked loudly whenever it bent. However, it was successful enough to become the standard prosthetic leg until 1914.

Mementos from the battle of Waterloo

After the battle, the looters moved in, and those of an entrepreneurial turn of mind who were quick to see the value in souvenirs. Above are a couple of examples of mementos from the battlefield. The curl of horse hair comes from Napoleon’s horse, Marengo; and the hoof snuff box comes from one of the horses killed in the battle. It’s gruesome, yes, but peace, however welcome after twenty-five years of war, left a lot of people, including soldiers, unemployed. We know that there were a lot of scavengers in the years following who made a living selling whatever they could find on the battlefield, from teeth to gilt buttons and bits of armour.

The mounted guard looks both right and left to check for anything untoward. 

The Household Cavalry Museum at the Royal Horse Guards in Whitehall is well worth a visit. You can even take a photo of yourself standing next to one of the guards, just don’t expect him to smile; he’s trained not to.  

Elizabeth Hawksley

Consulting the future: Napoleon’s Book of Fate and Oraculum

Our ancestors were no less given to ways of foretelling the future than we are. Whether you regularly read your star sign in the newspaper, consult a medium or have your hand read in the gypsy stall at a fair, you are in good company.

According to a book I acquired long ago, Napoleon is said to have consulted his oracle on every important occasion. The book is supposed to be, it states, “a fac simile of the one used by NAPOLEON” (their spelling of facsimile).

I am not sure how much good it did him, if we are to judge how much poor old Napoleon changed over the years.

Not only does this book contain a complicated oracle, it goes into interpreting dreams, “weather omens, astrological miscellany and important advice”. Also palmistry, observing moles, face reading, lucky days and a whole lot more.

The oraculum starts with rules. What you do is make five rows of lines, making sure there’s at least a dozen on each line. You then count the lines on each row, and if the number is odd, you assign it one dot, and if it’s even, you assign it two dots.

That gives you a pattern, as you can see in the illustration. You can then ask one of 32 questions, and the following pages give you a key. You locate your pattern, run down the column to your question, and find the letter given. Then you go the page for that letter, again find your pattern, and you get your answer.

Highly random, the whole thing. The questions are couched in old-fashioned language, as are the answers.

Let’s do a test. Question 15 seems appropriate to our present.

What is the aspect of the SEASONS, and what POLITICAL CHANGES are to take place?

I’ve done my lines and come up with odd, even, even, odd, odd. The key gives me the letter V. My answer is: “Expect a plentiful harvest.” What to make of that, I really don’t know!

There’s a warning that it is improper to ask TWO questions on the same day, so I can’t do another one. Instead, let’s have a look the second Oraculum or Book of Fate, which has a slightly different system of four rows of dots and only 16 questions.

I had a peculiar dream the other day, so let’s ask “What does my dream signify?”

Oh my sainted aunt! The answer is: “Signifies trouble and sorrow.” Argghh!

Enough of that already. What about moles? I have about 500 of them I think, so this should be good. I’m going for the biggest one on my face. The closest is upper lip, which shows happiness in marriage. Well, that’s better, though it’s a bit late for me.

Without our amazing Met Office, I daresay the weather omens would come in handy. Spiders seem to figure strongly, but how about these for omens of foul and wet weather, which is pretty standard for the UK most of the time?

If the crows make a great deal of noise, and fly round and round.

If worms creep out of the ground in great numbers.

If the owl screech.

If asses shake their ears, bray, and rub against walls or trees.

Ah, here’s one most of us ought to be able to notice:

If cats lick their bodies, and wash their faces.

We won’t go into face reading, or you'll be off in the mirror checking out your eyes!

To finish, I will wish you fortunate dreams:  of baking, of catching birds, of camels, clocks or cheese, of apricots, milk, leaping or – and what could be more dream inducing? - the moon.

Speaking of which, I will leave you with this moon charm to discover your future husband.

Elizabeth Bailey