Victoria's (and Albert's) Secret

I like QI.  It's a TV show that I can relate to, given that I seem to collect random bits of knowledge like an old lady collects random bits of string.  Apparently, I now use it to give me ideas when I'm stuck with writer's block like I was two weeks ago.

When we picture Queen Victoria, we picture the very straight-laced "Widow of Windsor"; a woman lost in perpetual mourning and the mother of the British Empire:

Queen Victoria, 1887, around 68 years old.  Although she never said "we are not amused", you can see why people thought that she did!

Of course, she wasn't born old.  It's easy to forget given that the pictures we see of her are largely like the ones above.  In her earlier years, she was absolutely besotted with her husband, Albert, although she had to ask him to marry her because of her royal position.  He became The Prince Consort in 1840 and the marriage lasted 21 years, until his death from typhoid fever in 1861.  It was his death that plunged her into the dark widow that we recognise today.  But before that, she was much different:

Vic & Al, 1846.  Painted by Franz Xaver Winterhalter.  Pictured here with five of her children.  As a side note, she was one of the first women to use anesthetic during childbirth, against the advice and will of the clergy, who believed that women should suffer the pain of Eve in order to bring a healthy child into the world.  She helped to break that belief.

Thing is, despite having nine children in total, Victoria hated being pregnant.  She thought babies were ugly and she really didn't like the idea of breast feeding at all.  She did, however, really like sex with her properly wedded husband.  In fact, after her last child was born she was told by her doctor, James Reid, that any more pregnancies would be dangerous to her health.  Her reply?  “Oh, Sir James!  Am I not to have any more fun in bed?”  She was far from the picture of Victorian repression that we picture today, by all accounts.  And fair play to her.

She was apparently very flirtatious as a wife, and as such, on Albert's 24th birthday, she surprised her husband with a portrait known for years after as "The Secret Picture".  Albert kept it in his private chambers and it was said to be his favourite picture of her.  At the time, it was seen as being a bit risqué, so he had every reason to keep it out of sight and very much to himself:

Queen Victoria's Secret:  The portrait deemed "too overtly sexual" to be shown to the public until 1977.  Of course, posing for such a picture would also have been seen as been scandalous by some.  That's 1843 for you!  Still, it's a beautiful picture and you can see why Albert liked it -- and why the royal family wished to keep it secret in order to keep Victoria's "proper" image intact.

The picture went on display in the Victoria and Albert Museum in 2009 as part of an exhibition called Victoria & Albert:  Art & Love, which focused on the years between Victoria's accession to the throne and Albert's death.  I have no idea what Victoria or Albert would think about it going on display, but it humanises her, her husband and her relationship; it allows us to relate to a couple in love, rather than the sadness that followed.  I'd like to think that they wouldn't mind it being shared 170 years later.

A Medieval Christmas in England

Over the past few days I've read quite a few articles about how people in medieval times spent their Christmas.  My big bugbear about this is that many articles have spoken about the past as if it's all one big place -- and even as if all of Europe is one big place.  Having lived in a few countries myself, I know that the way one country celebrates Christmas is totally different from another; from that, it's fair to guess that one century also celebrated it in a different way to the others before or after it.  The main problem is that very few accounts still exist from various times that tell how people spent their Christmas -- therefore we amalgamate and extrapolate.  It's fair, though I've tried to keep this post to a limited time period (1340s - 1480s), which has actually been difficult to do.  It's sad that much of the evidence has gone.  Thing is, not all of it has.  Some of it is there, you just have to look for it.

For example, manuscripts sometimes show in their marginalia drawings of mummers and guisers ("performers in disguise") performing plays.  We know that in England's royal courts, for example, plays were written annually for the mummers.  We even have some picture evidence:

Mummers wearing full facial masks as part of a mumming (play).  Mummings took place at Christmas though apart from knowing that they used rhyming couplets, we know little else about the early mummings.  This is from a manuscript created in 1344 for the court of Edward III.  Source:  Bodleian Library.

Sadly, no play scripts or performance details exist from this time period.  In fact, it's only documented in that way from the mid-18th century, but we do know that tradition goes back quite away due to references in manuscripts and pictures like the one above.  We also know that these plays usually cast St. George as the hero and a Turkish knight as the villain.  They also often featured a theme of resurrection, usually where a doctor administers a cure for the fallen.

We also know from reports that Edward VI had a massive Christmas feast in 1482.  He reportedly fed 2,000 people per day, for the entire 12 days of Christmas.  He also took the chance to glam up (just as well as it was his last Christmas), with one guest noting that he was "clad in a great variety of most costly garments, of quite a different cut to those which had usually be seen hitherto in our kingdom."  He was a believer in style and in bling, even when it came to food.  They served up a variety of different meats, including the obvious boar and the not so obvious peacock:

 The feast of the peacock, 15th century.  Yes, when they served peacock, they served it with the feathers.  Well, they took the skin and the feathers off to cook it, and then wrapped them back around the bird when it was done so it was presented at the table looking more like it did when it was alive.  Sometimes, if they were feeling really extravagant, they gilded the combs.  True fact.  For more traditions, check out this blog.

Boar, however, was what Richard III preferred, which is no surprise given that the white boar was his personal emblem.  And it was popular because it's tasty.  Really tasty.  Peacock was, by contrast, pretty tough and not all that tasty, but it was really, really expensive.  In fact, it was the most expensive bird money could buy for around 350 years, according to records kept by London's poultry guild.  So, looks like it was the medieval version of caviar then.  Yes, I have opinions.

Exchanging presents is a fairly obvious custom, still practiced today as it was back then.  Gifts were often bestowed on the members of the court, but the gift giving didn't stop there.  Relics were sometimes gifted to churches.  Titles and honours were also presented to people.... and sometimes, they even threw in the promise of a wife.  In 1470, George Neville was granted a dukedom and a betrothal to Elizabeth of York as a way of trying to pacify the Yorkist supporters.

 Elizabeth of York, not just for Christmas:  Didn't marry Neville in the end.  She did much better for herself by marrying Henry VII and being the mother to Prince Henry (later Henry VIII).  She died when he was 11.

Course, Neville switched sides not long after, which kind of broke the marriage deal.  Still, Elizabeth got a better deal in 1484 when she and Anne Neville (yes, same family, only this one was married to Richard III) exchanged presents of clothing.  According to at least one source, there was a lot of dancing and singing that particular year, so apparently drinking and hangovers was probably also a part of these festivities.  A strong Church Ale was also sold at Christmas, often leading to a lot of dancing, singing and general merriment in the churches and churchyards, which some people frowned upon.  Then again, some folks will frown on anything.  Ah well, sucked to be them!  Happy hangovers!

If you want to read even more about this, head on over to this awesome site:  http://www.britainexpress.com/History/medieval/christmas.htm

Henry VIII: The Prince in Mourning

When you think of Henry VIII, you think of a rather large ginger man who ate too much and always got his way.  The church disagreed with him, so he left and created his own damn church; he went through wives at a rate of knots; he was absolute ruler and commanded obedience in court.  He pulled no punches and seemed pretty heartless, but he also came across as a strong, charismatic leader, showing anger rather than sadness or vulnerability.

 Henry VIII.  Ladies... check out my cod.  WOOF!

Portrait from 1540 by Hans Holbein.

People forget that the man was once a child whose mother died when he was 11.  It had been a hard time for the family; his brother, Arthur, died of some kind of fever-based illness in April 1502.  Elizabeth, his mother, fell pregnant and gave birth to a girl called Catherine on the 2nd February, 1503, but the child died a few days later.  Elizabeth then died to a post partum infection a week after the child died.  You cannot help but empathise with the small child shown in this manuscript:

 Prince Henry weeping at his mother's empty death bed.  The two girls are his sisters shown in mourning attire, Princess Margaret (aged 13) and Princess Mary (aged 7).  Poor kids.

Image from the National Library of Wales.

Henry was known to be very close to his mother so it's no surprise that the young prince was devastated.  It's possible that his distanced relationship with his father was compounded by his mother's death, as according to one account, his father "privily departed to a solitary place and would no man should resort unto him".  Harsh.  Sometimes a kid needs his dad, even in 1503.

This image has had a lot of interest lately; although the Vaux Passional has been in the National Library of Wales since 1921, it's recently been digitised and therefore re-evaluated.  No one had really looked at it in a while.  People are interested in this image because Henry VIII has never been pictured as being vulnerable or even having grieved for anyone much, even as a child.  During the re-evaluation, it became evident that this Passional was likely part of the library of Henry VIII's father, Henry VII.  In fact, it's possible that the image below actually shows the Vaux Passional being given to Henry VII:

Illumination showing the possible presentation of the book to the king.  Prince Henry is weeping in the background.

The activity in the background has actually helped to date the piece somewhat, placing its creation at the start of the 16th century.  The manuscript, which is written in French, similarly follows themes of death.  It contains two bodies of work -- a Passional and Le Miroir de la Mort by Georges Chastellain.  The Passional calls on the reader to meditate on the arrest, trial, Crucifixion and Resurrection of Christ.  It starts at the raising of Lazarus and ends with Judas and Pontius Pilate.  Le Miroir de la Mort is a work that discusses "the futility of wordly pleasures in the face of certain death".  Cheery stuff then.

 Illumination from the Vaux Passional showing "Christ between two thieves".  The source has stunning detail, available here)

The manuscript also shows the seige and fall of Jerusalem, which I think is my favourite illumination -- saving for that of Prince Henry:

It's worth taking a look through the National Library of Wales online gallery for this book.  It's all stunning, and all done by one person who lived in London back in the early 1500s.  No one knows who made it, but it's pretty clear they had a good understanding of death and sadness.  It's also a wonderful reminder that this "swaggering warrior king" was once a child.