AJL

The renovated Man on The Oss (Prince Albert) statue in Queen Square, Wolverhampton

“The Man on the Oss is out of his den – we’ll gather around him again and again” – an awful rewrite of an old Chartist chant from earlier in the nineteenth century.

The “Man on the Oss” in Queen Square, Wolverhampton, –  actually a statue of Queen Victoria’s husband Prince Albert  on his horse created by Thomas Thorneycroft (1815-1885) has had the boarding surrounding him and his horse removed after a major clean-up and renovation.

After Albert, died in 1861 people in Wolverhampton led by Alderman Underhill raised the money to erect a statue in his honour. It cost £1,150 and after  five years of withdrawing from all public appearances the Queen agreed to come to the unveiling on November 30th 1866.

A public holiday was declared in the town and many turned out to see the Royal party tour the town centre.  There were also illuminations and a firework display at the racecourse.

The sculptor had also created a life-size statue of Mr G.B. Thorneycroft, the first mayor of the town (apparently no relation) for the town in 1857.

Not many people know it, but Wolverhampton has long had a reputation for creating first class sculpture and sculptors – one sadly overshadowed by a current one for fighting, overindulgence in vertical drinking barns and being sick in the gutter.

The Sensing Sculpture space at the city’s art gallery, a few moments walk East of the statue is well worth a look after its relaunch.

Despite the cliches above – which could apply to virtually any city, town or etven rural centres of population -a glimpse of  Wolverhampton’s other – cultural – side is on show after a big revamp and a reopeningwith new commissions, mainstays of the gallery’s collection, audio, interactive exhibits, video and poetry.

It has been created with assistance from Wolverhampton University students and alumni led by sculptor and MA Fine Art course leader Benedict Carpenter, with help from others including the Friends of  Wolverhampton Art Gallery and Museum, a cash-strapped Arts Council of England and others.

Most of the works have audio interpretation panels with recorded discussions about the sculptures between Benedict, Honorary Fellow of the University of Wolverhampton Ron Dutton, also president of the Friends, and two current Fine Art studentsand a flavour of it all can be had by viewing the gallery’s Sensing Sculpture slideshow

In exploring the contrast between traditional and modern approaches to sculpture the exhibition displays pieces made from traditional materials such as wood, stone and bronze from the gallery’s collection which have not been on public display before.

Sculptors in the display with a connection to the University, or its predecessor institutions, also include Robert Jackson Emerson, Glynn Williams and John Paddison.

Benedict said, in a media release and also, in effect,at the relaunch: “It is fascinating to see so many connections between the sculptures in this new permanent display and the staff and students, past and present, of the Fine Art Department at the University of Wolverhampton.”

Carol Thompson, Curator at Wolverhampton Art Gallery, said: “We’ve focused on maximising interactivity and we encourage visitors to touch everything in the gallery.”

Sensing Sculpture official launch

At the launch the city’s contribution to sculpture was detailed by Ron, former head of sculpture at Wolverhampton School of Art from 1964 to 1984, now the University’s School of Art & Design, and Benedict.

To one side the work and contribution of two dozen Wolverhampton master sculptors from the late nineteenth century to the present day is illustrated, including that of Robert Jackson Emerson who taught sculpture from Wolverhampton School of Art, in the same building as the gallery from 1910.

One of his pupils, Sir Charles Wheeler, born in Codsall, south Staffordshire, but brought up in Wolverhampton, was the first sculptor to hold the Presidency of the Royal Academy (1956-1966).

His work includes the big bronze doors and sculptures at the Bank of England and many more around London, including the Earth and Water figures outside the Ministry of Defence in Whitehall. He also crafted the statue of Wulfrun/Lady Wulfruna outside St Peter’s Collegiate Church, next door to the gallery.

Work such as the more recent bronze statue of England and Wolves footballer Billy Wright outside Molineux is illustrated in a light and easy setting with even more modern interactive work which the young people who attended the launch seemed to get to grips with in double-quick time.

Wolverhampton art gallery, with 12,000 artefacts, really does give the lie to the one-dimensional negative view of the city constantly on offer and has something of a coup with another exhibition starting on June 1.

A mainstay of the gallery is its Pop Art collection and Pauline Boty: Pop Artist and Woman (1938-1966) will be the first major exhibition in a public art gallery devoted to Boty’s work – 47 years after she died and became largely neglected.

A glimpse of what she gave to the 1960s can be seen at http://www.guardian.co.uk/inpictures. But more of that after the launch, alongside another exhibition – Tipping Point – tackling global climate change – on Friday 31 May at the gallery.

At a pre-event on the 31st Zoe Lippett, Exhibitions and Artists’ Projects Curator at The New Art Gallery, Walsall, will be in conversation with Dr Sue Tate, Co-curator of the Pauline Boty exhibition.

“The Divine Woman”

Series of 16×19″ Van Dyke Brown process prints on Stonehenge Natural paper.

Appropriating a similar aesthetic and symbolism to the turn-of-the-century photographers (Julia Margeret Cameron, Fox Talbot, Clarence Hudson White), my goal was to illustrate/question a few of the prevalent Victorian virtues in regards to women. At the time of early photography, Pre-Raphaelite paintings were reinforcing the mans’ ideal woman, giving art at the time a male gaze. The text is taken directly from Victorian sayings and virtues that originally derived from the context of Biblical passages.

Every time I close the book, I wonder whatever became of the three friends at its center. Did Mary grow up to marry her cousin Collin? Did they become Lord and Lady of Misselthwaite Manor? Was Collin’s miraculous recovery real, or would he be a cripple for the rest of his life? And what about Dickon – dear, sweet Dickon, who was several steps under the others in the class structure, and would have been just the age for conscription during World War I – What happened to him, and his relationship with Mary?

After finishing “Queen Victoria’s Book of Spells,” a collection of “gaslamp fantasy” edited by Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling, I was finally inspired to sit down and begin writing my own version of the story of Mary, Collin, and Dickon, all grown up. I’d like to include the first scene here. For those of you who know the story, is my continuation of it realistic and satisfying? And for those of you who don’t, how much of the back story can you guess from this one scene?

Mistress Mary

                In the spring of 1918, Dickon came home from the Western Front. Mary froze at the upstairs parlor window, one hand on her chest, when she saw him coming up the long drive, his shoulders slumped under his bright thatch of red hair. She flew down the wide stairway and out of the front door without waiting for the maid to open it, her lacy skirts caught up in her fists and her newly-bobbed blonde hair standing out in a halo around her face in the early April sunlight. She threw her arms around his shoulders, causing him to drop the patched carpet bag he was carrying, as Collin stepped out of the front door and started down the drive towards them, leaning heavily on his mahogany cane.

“Collin! He’s come home,” Mary called up the drive. “He’s really come home!”

Dickon had first stopped by the cottage in the village where he had grown up, to see his mother Mrs. Sowerby, and  Martha and her Tom and all the young ones. But the line that kept him tethered to Misselthwaite Manor had grown more and more taunt the closer he’d come to home, until he’d been unable to resist its pull. His reunion with its Lord and Lady had seemed, just an hour ago, like a bright, unimaginable dream, but the head gardener’s cottage, which had been his since old Ben had died seven years back, and the hedges of roses and cool groves of fruit trees he had tended, had been firm and secure in his mind.

Collin’s cane made a decisive “tock” on the cobblestones as he stopped beside Mary and Dickon. Collin trembled in the unseasonal heat as he took in the new stoop to Dickon’s shoulders, the sharp edges of his cheekbones under his map of freckles, the emptiness inside his deep blue eyes. Dickon stumbled out of Mary’s embrace, and Mary stepped back from him, twisting her skirts in her long white hands.

“Lord Craven,” Dickon ducked his head like an under-servant, his blank gaze unchanged. “Lady Craven,” Dickon nodded to Mary.

“Oh, Dickon!” Mary gave a strange little laugh, almost like a sob. “Don’t be silly. Have I changed so much in four years? You’ll call me Mary as you always have!”

“Dickon,” Collin reached out to shake his calloused hand, deciding against a brotherly pat on the back. Collin noticed with cool relief the entire absence of any unnatural affection he’d once held for this rustic man-child, back when they were three children in their hidden bit of garden, opening to the first flutters of secrets they’d had no business exploring, with the roses hedging them in, and old Ben on his ladder, peeking over the wall. Back when the Magic had come when he’d called. Easy as breathing. Easy as laying down his cane to walk. The madness that had overtaken them all, those few years, and the grueling hours of research and practice that were Collin’s life now, had so little in common that calling them by the same name seemed an untruth.

“I suppose you’ve been to see Martha, and Tom, and your mother – she’s well?” Mary was saying. “And our children! You’ll want to meet the children, surely!”

At a third story window, the indistinct faces of two small children stared down at the meeting on the drive. Dickon thought he caught a glimpse of light red hair, haloed, as Mary’s was, in a sudden ray of sunlight, before the nursemaid appeared to usher the two curious faces away.

Collin frowned. “Really, dear, I don’t think that’s necessary just yet. I’m sure Dickon would much rather rest a while after his travels.” He turned to Dickon. “Your post as head gardener has been reserved for you, of course. Mary would have allowed nothing else.” He gave a tight-lipped smile. Mary’s face was as white as her dress in the sunlight.  “But we hired an older man from the village to carry on while you were gone. I’ll allow him to stay on a few days more, while you settle into your duties again.”

Collin fished in his pockets for the key ring he carried, pulling it out to remove one small rusted skeleton key, which he handed to Dickon. Dickon squinted at it, as if unsure what it was for.

“It’s the key to your cottage,” Collin explained. “We kept it locked up for you, the way you left it. No one’s been in all these four years.” He cleared his throat and drew his shoulders up with an effort, and smiled. “Go on now, and get settled in. Get some rest.”

“I am,” Dickon said, still staring in wonder at the small key, “Very tired.”

So, in the search for some interesting “Steampunk” to read I came across Lady Mechanika written by Joe Benitez.

From issue “0″ I’m now addicted. To be honest it may not be to everyone’s taste with the Bio mechanical but going beyond that it’s a very good read.

Issue’s 0 to 3 are out via various places and issue four is in the works. If this come’s out as a compiled real book, Joe will find my order waiting .

I’m not going to go much into the story line beyond saying that its about Lady Mechanika as she tries to discover her past and how she got her mechanical parts.

*Small Rant* If you’re going to get your work self publish, get as many people to prof read your work first!

There are far too many books coming out that have far too many grammar and spelling issues (thats after ignoring the deference between EN-GB and EN-US)!

If you want people to give you work high rating and reviews please, please, please proofread!

Idk what the fuck this is but it came out of my pencil

Okay, so fable for adults.  I get it.  There’s an easy line between beginning, middle and end, and a moral lesson for the wrap-up.  But I don’t like that reading personally just because it forces Jacob into the role of “great Nemesis,” which the ending line of the book calls him.  And while I know the comeuppance is that David’s lies are exposed, but still, it came at the hands of Jacob which kind of makes the humiliation of having a retarded brother entwined with the otherwise appropriate comeuppance.  And the story already makes Jacob kind of a fable figure:  he’s likened to an ogre at one point, and all he ever does is have unreasonable fits of temper, insatiable appetite, greed, the ability to unerringly follow you like a GPS across long distances, and always ever that damned pitchfork in his hand.  Oh, and he can’t be reasoned with.  I’m not expecting an 1860 novella to have a 21^st century sensitivity when it comes to characters with disabilities, but this was…I guess actually pretty good, put in that light.  Jacob never physically hurts anyone, and he’s not too dumb to live, and he’s not cured by being hit in the end and all of those other 18/19C clichés of insanity/retardation.

But still, it’s a fine line between “treat handicapped siblings well and don’t steal from your mom or you’ll be exposed as a bad person” and “it sucks to have handicapped brothers.  If you do, watch out or they’ll F*** your life up.

I liked the character of David…for the limited space and insight into his private moments he came across as a very three-dimensional villain.  He’s not even a villain, he’s…a lesser person.  And having no conscience to guide him, he’s never stopped by those concernes.  IDK.  But well done.  Though come to think of it, he was bad and coded as sickly, and Jacob was an instrument of blunt punishment and coded as mentally disabled.  Kind of gross, now that I’m thinking of it.

Great writing style.  Um…I don’t have much more to say.  I would read more Eliot.  I mean, I would anyway because she’s a giant in my field, but I’m saying that on the strength of this novella I’d read more, so I think that speaks well for it.

This weekend was so busy and so exhausting (but fun nonetheless) . On Saturday we went to the zoo. I left my camera behind because sometimes its good to just live without it every once in a while. Afterwards we went skating, took Jake to the beach and came home and had dinner. Then we drove Chesapeake to visit my sister and give her the mother’s day preset I had made for her early. After hanging out there all evening we came back and took a walk in the dark around the neighborhood. Then Sunday Adam dragged me out of bed by my feet promptly at six am so we could get ready to drive to Richmond to see my best friend graduate from college. It took us a lot longer to get there than we thought…and we witnessed an accident along the way! We were some of the last people into the stadium and we had the absolute worst seats! I couldn’t see or hear anything sooo I entertained myself by photographing people on their phones. It became a fun little game for Adam and I. After that we drove home, took a nap, woke up, went skating and walked around the neighborhood. We spent the rest of the evening in our backyard with the pets. We take Jake out so often and Binx always look so sad to be left behind so I let Binx outside to roam around the backyard. He’s only ever been outside a total of three times I think, not counting the trips to the vet and bringing him home from the shelter.

Anyway this weekend taught me that there really is no place like home. And I don’t just mean the house you live in. To me our neighborhood, our boardwalk, our beach, our little main street with all the antique shops and the used book store, all of this is home. Going places and spending money can be a lot of fun, but in the end its so nice to come home and curl up on the couch. We’ve found we have a better time skating by the beach than we do in Norfolk at the zoo or the mall or movies. Everyone here in Phoebus and at Fort Monroe is so polite and friendly. The woman at Robert’s Antiques always recognizes me and strikes up a conversation. The people in Cody’s Lamp shop love telling us about the unique pieces they’ve found and restored. I really love it here. We could not have picked a better place to buy a house and settle down forever. And after spending the day at the zoo, around rude, self-centered people and their unruly children all I wanted to do was come home and go to the boardwalk where we can breathe in fresh air and smile at strangers. And after a long day of driving in Richmond there was nothing nicer than walking around our beautiful little backyard as the setting sun cast golden light on everything. I spend so much time here at home that sometimes I really forget to appreciate it but lately since we’ve been redecorating and spending time out and about I realize how much I love this place and how nice it is to just be here.

So naturally the plan for this evening is to curl up on the couch in our PJ’s and catch up on some tv shows.

This is the second time I’ve been involved in speed history with Alan. During the ‘East End Back Passages’ walking tour around Shoreditch in December 2012, my story used the experience of chief librarian William Plant of the Shoreditch Public Library on Kingsland Road as a way in to a wider narrative of learning, class and culture in Victorian Britain, taking in silver trowels, streams of bunting and a trip to Monte Carlo on the way. I’m posting my five-minute Shoreditch story, together with a photograph of Plant with his friends and colleagues in the Society of Public Librarians (1895-1930). The photograph was taken during a society summer outing to Kent in 1922 and is reproduced with kind permission of the Bishopsgate Institute and Archive. With public library provision especially vulnerable in a climate of spending cuts, the true story of the Shoreditch Library opening ceremony assumes a particular poignancy and significance. Read the story – and the next time you find yourself alongside one of London’s Victorian public library buildings, pause for a moment to re-imagine the scenes around the time ‘your’ library first opened to the public…brightly-coloured streamers and bunting…brass band music…large crowds of cheering men, women and children…and a shared sense of progress and optimism.  

In 1850 the Libraries Act was passed. It allowed local governments (at that time known as vestries) to use money from the rates (or local taxes) to fund the building of public libraries, free at the point of use, where all might have ready access to newspapers, books and informal learning. London was notoriously slow responding to the Act: some thirty years after it had been passed just two rate-assisted libraries had been built, in Westminster and in Wandsworth. For a variety of reasons (including the 1870 Education Act and the Queen’s Golden Jubilee in 1887) the late-1880s and 1890s witnessed a boom in library building programmes across the capital and by 1914 there were more than one hundred main and branch library buildings in London. There was an air of novelty, excitement and anticipation surrounding these new so-called ‘universities of the people’ and one way to get a sense of this is by describing the fanfare or ‘ta-dah!’ of the public library opening ceremony when thousands of local people would come out onto the streets to celebrate each new library launch. Library buildings and nearby trees and railings would be festooned with flags, banners and bunting. Brass bands played jolly tunes before and after the ceremony – often performing at the head of a procession of the local ‘Great and the Good’ as they paraded from the Town Hall to the Library to launch the proceedings in grand style.

The Shoreditch Library Opening celebration was scheduled for May 1893. Eager to book a big-name guest, the new chief librarian William Plant (below, top left) invited the Prime Minister William Gladstone to officiate on the platform. His approach was unsuccessful. Finally, Plant wrote to John Passmore Edwards, a self-made publisher and keen supporter of the library movement. Edwards had financed a number of public library projects in the East End, including at Shoreditch where he had paid the full construction costs of the library premises. Edwards had also officiated at dozens of library opening ceremonies – later in the 1890s he was to open not one but two library buildings in East London in a single day – but he was unable to take the platform at Shoreditch. Instead he proposed a politician friend, the Duke of Devonshire.

On the one hand, then, we have William Plant living and working in a free library located on the obscure fringes of the notorious East End. Surrounded by builders’ rubble, he regularly worked on late into the evening to prepare the library for public use. He fretted over the gilding of the words ‘Shoreditch Public Library’ on the front of the building; he bartered with booksellers ton gain the best price for books for the shelves; he oversaw repairs to the joints in the hot water pipes; he grew anxious about delays to the laying of a new cork carpet; and he expressed concerns about the efficiency of the monogrammed mat purchased for the library entrance. On the other hand, we see the Duke of Devonshire moving from one smart location to another. His staff remained in touch with Plant, issuing peremptory updates on the arrangements for the Shoreditch opening ceremony: his Grace had just left for Monte Carlo; his Grace was enjoying a day at the Races; no, his Grace wasn’t yet able to confirm a date for the ceremony; and so on.

The Duke of Devonshire’s half-hearted engagement with the Shoreditch opening ceremony indicated the ‘Cinderella status’ of the rate-assisted library in the eyes of those who moved in more elevated circles. At the same time, Plant’s grand aspirations for his opening ceremony reminded us that, at grass-roots level, the new free libraries were perceived altogether differently. Before the advent of the rate-assisted library, only those men and women with a disposable income or respectable social connections and/or a stable home address were able to access London’s various circulating and subscription libraries, university and church libraries and large reading rooms – of which the British Museum was probably the best known. Yet even the cheapest reading matter (down to and often including the daily papers) might lie beyond the financial reach of ‘ordinary’ people. So how would the self-improving domestic servant, the out-of-work bricklayer, the impoverished pupil-teacher, the itinerant labourer or the down-at-heel office clerk access books or learning in late-Victorian?

The public library was a truly egalitarian innovation – part of a broader movement aimed at widening access to ‘rational recreation’. Rather than spending their leisure hours in the pub, on the street corner or at the Music Hall, working-class men and women might use their weekends to promenade or perambulate in new public parks. Equally, they might spend their evenings reading or studying in ‘lighthouses of learning’ or ‘temples of light’ as the new public libraries were variously termed. Library user statistics from the period prove that there was a real demand for opportunities for self-acculturation among the urban working and lower-middle classes. By 1914, the city’s 100+ rate-assisted libraries stood at the unofficial heart of local cultural and intellectual life, circulating millions of books annually to hundreds of thousands of readers, as well as getting up popular lecture series’ and reading circles. Little wonder, then, that the new free libraries were known as the ‘universities of the people.’

[xnihilo]

Princess Charlotte of Wales

In 1794, the Prime Minister - William Pitt the Younger - decided that something must be done about the unpopular Prince of Wales (a figure famously lambasted in Blackadder the Third: “We hail Prince George, we hail Prince George!” “No, it’s ‘we hate Prince George, we hate Prince George’…”). George had to be persuaded to marry and beget heirs to the throne. The feckless George had already attempted marriage – to his long-term and wholly unsuitable mistress, Maria Fitzherbert. Their ‘marriage’ was promptly invalidated as they hadn’t sought (and wouldn’t have received!) the monarch’s permission to marry (which was required by the Royal Marriages Act, 1772). George kept Maria Fitzherbert on as a mistress, of course, along with several other doting women. He had absolutely no interest in marriage – but William Pitt knew his weak spot.

Despite his generous income, Prince George was in dire financial straits; by 1794, his princely salaries weren’t even enough to cover the interest on his mountain of debt. Parliament promised George a “pay rise” if he would marry and get busy making royal babies; a reluctant George agreed. His shortlist consisted of German Princesses, both of whom were his first cousins – one from his father’s family and one from his mother’s. Most people favoured the latter – Princess  Louise of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, who by all accounts was virtuous and beautiful, as was appropriate for a future Queen. However, Prince George’s then-favourite mistress – Lady Jersey – decided to promote the interests of the other Princess, Caroline of Brunswick, who she thought would be less of a rival for George’s royal affections. So, despite the fact that Caroline was rumoured to be rather unappealing and had a bit of a scandalous reputation, George chose her as his bride – sight unseen – and dispatched a diplomat to fetch her to Britain.

It was a dire mistake. Caroline was brought to meet her future husband at St James’ Palace. Prince George took one look at her, and cried out ”Harris, I am not well, pray get me a glass of brandy.” But Caroline got her own zinger in, remarking: ”I think he is very fat and nothing like as handsome as his portrait!” Needless to say, it wasn’t a match made in heaven. George turned up to the wedding ceremony drunk off his face, having sent his brother (the future William IV) to Maria Fitzherbert with a sweet but pointless declaration of his true love. The royal couple had sex three times and then separated. One day short of nine months after the wedding day, Caroline gave birth to a daughter, christened Charlotte Augusta after both of her grandmothers. Although at this point the royal family were hated for their excess and tendency towards madness, the little princess was taken to British hearts, her birth widely celebrated. Prince George wrote to his mother, advising her that his wife had given birth to: “an immense girl, and I assure you notwithstanding we might have wished for a boy, I receive her with all the affection possible”.

Almost immediately after Charlotte’s birth, Prince George drew up a will, the prime purpose of which seemed to be insulting Princess Caroline. In it he left all his worldly goods to Maria Fitzherbert and dictated that Princess Caroline would have nothing whatsoever to do with the raising of their daughter. In fact, Caroline was only allowed to see her infant once a day and only in the presence of her nurse and her governess. Characteristically not giving a fig what her estranged husband wanted, whenever she could Caroline took baby Charlotte on carriage rides through the streets of London, to universal approval and applause from the crowds.

Charlotte grew up being used as a pawn and being a point of contention between her two warring parents. She had a lonely childhood, living in a household of her own, her only company people who were paid to be with her. Eventually, her governess’ grandson – three years Charlotte’s junior – was brought to her household to be her playmate. Forty years later that boy – then the Earl of Albemarle - would recall these years in his memoirs. In them Charlotte is remembered as a tearaway, a tomboy who loved to be outside and cause mischief. In one particularly charming tale, Albemarle remembers a crowd gathering hoping to see the young Princess. The two children immediately slipped outside of the house and – totally unrecognised – joined the crowd.

By 1805 it was clear that Charlotte would one day sit on the throne. George and Caroline were never to be reconciled, which means that there would be no legitimate son to come before Charlotte in the line of succession. King George took control of his heir’s education. Charlotte was popular at court – contemporaries called her warm and engaging with a candid, informal manner. Of course there were some that thought a Princess should be more dignified – and Charlotte was often told off for wearing dresses that showed off her ankles – racy! Charlotte was an excellent pianist and horsewoman and enjoyed listening to Mozart and reading Jane Austen novels, although her spelling, grammar and handwriting were atrocious. 

In 1811, King George descended into his ‘madness’ for the final time, and Prince George was sworn in as Regent. He immediately cracked down on his 15 year old daughter, not allowing her to do anything or go anywhere and decreeing that she always be chaperoned. The bored and rebellious Charlotte immediately engaged in a string of infatuations with any young man she had any contact with – usually cousins. In these harmless little affairs she was supported by the rest of the royal family turning a blind eye, as they disapproved of the straits that the Regent was keeping his daughter in.

By 1813, the Napoleonic Wars were finally going well for Britain and George took the opportunity to consider his daughter’s marriage – a difficult question indeed, for whoever married Charlotte would likely become King of England as Charlotte’s consort. The Regent favoured  William, Hereditary Prince of Orange, son and heir-apparent of Prince William VI of Orange. Unfortunately, Charlotte did not, as the first time she met him he was drunk and disorderly.

Meanwhile, at a party at the Pulteney Hotel in London, Charlotte met a Lieutenant-General in the Russian cavalry, Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld. The impoverished Prince called on the Princess at her invitation, remaining for three quarters of an hour. Scandalous! Afterwards her wrote to the Prince Regent apologising for any perceived indiscretion. George was impressed with the lad, but did not by any stretch of the imagination consider him as a possible suitor for his daughter. He continued to press the Orange marriage.

Charlotte had no choice but to play for time. She tentatively agreed to the marriage negotiations and stalled by throwing things she believed the Prince of Orange and his council would not agree to into the negotiations. She demanded she never be forced to leave Britain. They agreed. She demanded that Britain be inherited by their eldest son, the Netherlands by their second. They agreed. Finally, Charlotte demanded that her mother be always welcome in their house. Princess Caroline was famously outspoken against the marriage with the Prince of Orange; unsurprisingly, he disagreed, and Charlotte had the excuse she wanted to reject his proposal.

Prince George was livid. He sent word that Charlotte was to be kept ‘under house arrest’ in her household and see nobody until she was taken out of London to Windsor. When told of this, a panicked Charlotte raced out into the street, desperate to avoid falling into the control of her father and the marriage that she didn’t agree with. A neighbour, seeing her distress from his window, helped the inexperienced Princess hail a hackney cab which she asked to take her to her mother’s house. Charlotte and Caroline immediately summoned a selection of sympathetic Whig politicians to advise them. Most of the royal family also gathered, including her uncle, Frederick, Duke of York, who had a warrant in his pocket to secure Charlotte’s return to her household (and her father) by force if it proved necessary. After lengthy arguments, the Whigs advised her to return to her father’s house; she unwillingly did so the following day.

Charlotte’s panicked flight through the streets of London was a hot topic of conversation. The general public adored the Princess and the press clamoured that she should be at liberty to leave her father’s household and marry who she chose – she was, after all, over eighteen. Despite the best efforts of the populace, the press and even some members of the royal family, Charlotte’s isolation continued. In 1814 it was heightened when her mother left Britain for an “extended visit” in Europe (Charlotte was never to see her mother again).

By 1815, Charlotte had grown quite used to her quiet life. All the men – suitable and otherwise – she had harboured infatuations for eventually married elsewhere. Charlotte began to grow a genuine affection for the impoverished Prince Leopold she had met some years before and kept up correspondence with. She began to relentlessly petition her father for the right to marry him. The Prince Regent, however, had not given up all hope for the marriage with the Prince of Orange. Charlotte soon put him straight on that front; ”No arguments, no threats,” she wrote, “shall ever bend me to marry this detested Dutchman.” In the face of overwhelming support for his popular daughter, George gave in.

Unfortunately, Leopold was otherwise busy fighting Napoleon on the continent. It wasn’t until late February 1816 that he arrived in Britain and immediately went to Brighton to be interviewed by his potential father-in-law. Charlotte had dinner with the two, and afterwards gushed: “I find him charming, and go to bed happier than I have ever done yet in my life … I am certainly a very fortunate creature, & have to bless God. A Princess never, I believe, set out in life (or married) with such prospects of happiness, real domestic ones like other people.” Unbelievably. the Prince Regent too was rather a fan of Leo, telling his daughter that he “had every qualification to make a woman happy”; quite an endorsement!

On March 14th the engagement was announced in the House of Commons, to great public and political acclaim. The people were happy that their beloved Princess was being allowed to make a love-match; the politicians were just pleased that the drama of Charlotte’s teenaged rebellion looked likely at an end.

Charlotte and Leopold married on the 2 May 1816. On the wedding day, huge crowds filled London, causing traffic problems to the extent that the bride and groom were late arriving at the venue! Leopold dressed for the first time as a British General; Charlotte’s wedding dress cost over ₤10,000! The pair gazed at one another fondly throughout the ceremony, smiling broadly, and the mischievousness Charlotte was heard to giggle when the impoverished Leopold promised to with all his worldly goods endow her.

After a few months honeymooning and getting to know one another, Charlotte and Leopold returned to London for the summer, where they were the darlings of society, greeted with raucous applause wherever they went. When it was reported that Charlotte had been taken ill at the opera, the public clamoured for news until it had to be publicly announced that Charlotte had suffered a miscarriage, but was recovering. Despite this early setback Charlotte and Leopold’s marriage thrived. They were a perfectly matched pair of opposites, what with Charlotte’s exuberance and Leopold’s calm attitude. When Charlotte became too excited, Leopold would say only, “Doucement, chėrie” (“Gently, my love”). Charlotte teasingly began calling her husband “Doucement”. By the end of April 1817 it was announced that Charlotte was pregnant again, and this time it seemed she would carry the baby to term.

Charlotte purposefully did little during her pregnancy, besides pose for portraits and eat! Although her due date had been October 19th, her contractions did not start until the evening of November 3rd. Her midwife, Sir Richard Croft, sent for the officials whose task it was to witness the birth of the next in line to the throne. However, November 3rd became November 5th, and still there was no sign of the royal baby. Charlotte – understandably – was in dreadful discomfort and weak from the strain and the fact that they hadn’t let her eat since her first contraction.

At 9pm Charlotte finally expelled a large, stillborn boy. All efforts were made to resuscitate the little Prince, who was noted to resemble the royal family in his features, but he had clearly been dead for some while. An exhausted Charlotte took the news numbly, mumbling that it was obviously “God’s will”. Leopold, who had been present at his wife’s bedside throughout the protracted labour, was devastated; he took an opiate and retired to his bed.

At midnight, Charlotte began to complain of pains in her stomach. She then began to vomit, have trouble breathing and started to bleed. Alarmed, Sir Richard Croft started the then-accepted treatment for postpartum haemorrhaging and called for Leopold to be roused and brought back to the bedside. Dr Stockmar, Leopold’s own physician tried and failed the first time to wake the Prince, before returning distraught to the Princess. Charlotte was raving. Stockmar left the room to try his luck with the comatose Prince once again, but Charlotte called him back, voice urgent. By the time he made it back to the bedside, Charlotte was dead.

The country plunged into deepest mourning. One journalist remembered it “as though every household throughout Great Britain had lost a favourite child.” Merchants ran out of black cloth with even the poor and homeless tying armbands of black on their clothes to mark their respect. The mourning was so complete that the makers of ribbons and other fancy goods (which could not be worn during the period of formal mourning) petitioned the government to shorten the period, fearing they would otherwise go bankrupt! Shops closed for two weeks, as did the Royal Exchange, the Law Courts, and the docks; even gambling dens and brothels shut down on the day of her funeral.

Perhaps surprisingly, most devastated of all were Charlotte’s parents. The Prince Regent was described as prostrated with grief and quite unable to function. He couldn’t even bring himself to attend the funeral. Princess Caroline, sojourning on the continent still, learnt the news of her daughter’s death as passing gossip and fainted in shock and grief. Upon recovering, she cried out, “England, that great country, has lost everything in losing my ever beloved daughter.” Even the jilted Prince of Orange burst into tears at hearing the news, and his wife ordered the ladies of her court into mourning out of respect for her husband’s feelings and the general tragedy of having lost someone so beloved and so young.

Leopold was never to recover from this great loss. He wrote to Sir Thomas Lawrence:

“Two generations gone. Gone in a moment! I have felt for myself, but I have also felt for the Prince Regent. My Charlotte is gone from the country—it has lost her. She was a good, she was an admirable woman. None could know my Charlotte as I did know her! It was my study, my duty, to know her character, but it was my delight!”

Leopold would go on to become the first King of the Belgians,after Belgium gained its independence from the Netherlands. He was one of the most favoured and trusted advisers of his niece, the future Queen Victoria, and in 1840 arranged a marriage between her and his nephew,  Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha; Princess Victoria and Prince Albert, of course, would go on to reign as consorts, much like Leopold himself and Charlotte would have reigned, had she lived to succeed to the throne.

Charlotte was buried in St. George’s Chapel, Windsor Castle, on 19 November 1817. Her baby son was placed at her feet. Their tomb’s monument was paid for by public donation. Charlotte’s tragic death did much to raise awareness of childbed death, and led to significant changes in obstetric practice, with obstetricians who favoured intervention in protracted labour, including in particular more liberal use of forceps, gaining ground over those who did not. Although Sir Richard Croft was never formally blamed for the Princess’ death, three months later he committed suicide, racked with guilt.

The death of Charlotte and her baby caused a succession crisis. She had been the only legitimate grandchild of King George. The press began to panic, pressuring George’s brood of unmarried, 40-and-50-something sons to get busy. The King’s fourth son, Prince Edward, Duke of Kent and Strathearn, had always been far removed from the pressures of the court. He lived in Brussels with a mistress, who he dumped so quickly her head probably span. Edward unceremoniously proposed to Leopold’s sister Victoria, Dowager Princess of Leiningen and did his duty. Their daughter, Princess Alexandrina Victoria of Kent, would  be crowned Queen Victoria of the United Kingdom in 1837.

]]> http://kuznickihome.wordpress.com/2013/05/13/victorian-vernacular-house-with-double-2-story-gables/ Mon, 13 May 2013 14:39:12 +0000 kuznickihome http://kuznickihome.wordpress.com/2013/05/13/victorian-vernacular-house-with-double-2-story-gables/

Victorian Vernacular House with Double 2-story gables

And because (in my instance) it involves authentic corsetry as its foundation, no piece is ever going to be a great fit on anyone other than the person it was made for.

But there are ways to help things fit a new shape. In trying to be authentic I do what our forebears did and leave the seams visible on the inside. It also make it easier to let out and take in dresses for new owners, also something they were well known for doing. If nothing else they were great at recycling clothing because the fashion season changed so fast and so many dresses had little wear. So I suppose nothing much has changed.

Inside of an evening bodice. Visible seams and external boning channels.

I made all my pieces for me but I consider myself a fairly average sized UK12 at a reasonably average 5ft 4in so I didn’t think it would be difficult to sell the dresses I had in stock. But if you’re going to do re-enactment and you’re serious about it, you have to do it right and wearing a dress without the right foundation garments is just going to kill it. So if you’re not going to wear a corset your waist isn’t going to be curvy enough and your bust line won’t be flat or high enough.

I’ve lost count of the number of questions I have received about dresses I have in my Etsy store. Measurements always let them down and in most cases because the wearers aren’t using the right corsetry or haven’t considered skilled alterations.

If you’re serious about getting it right, a little effort goes a long way and you will have an outfit that will last you for years.

The hour-glass figure desired by all Victorian ladies – modern day

Aaron Smith, Pommie, Beards, 2012

Aaron Smith, Blower, Beards, 2011

Aaron Smith, Buck, Beards, 2011

Aaron Smith, Jeek, Beards, 2011

Aaron Smith, Jeezer, Beards, 2011

Aaron Smith, Bearded, Beards, 2009

Aaron Smith, Mazzard, Beards, 2010

Aaron Smith, Nobby, Beards, 2010

Photo Credit: Aaron Smith

Do you want New Victorian By Jessica Mcclintock For Women. Gift Set ( Eau De Parfum Spray 3.4 Oz + Body Lotion 3.0 Oz). ? we have found the right place where you can shop with trusted online stores. We have been evaluating and recommend to you to buy at .., online stores are reliable and have a lot of experience in selling products.

My team has been evaluating the New Victorian By Jessica Mcclintock For Women. Gift Set ( Eau De Parfum Spray 3.4 Oz + Body Lotion 3.0 Oz). is a high quality product with the best features. But if you are still unsure of the New Victorian By Jessica Mcclintock For Women. Gift Set ( Eau De Parfum Spray 3.4 Oz + Body Lotion 3.0 Oz)., you can prove by clicking the read more button below. You will see and read it for yourself on testimony from consumers who have bought New Victorian By Jessica Mcclintock For Women. Gift Set ( Eau De Parfum Spray 3.4 Oz + Body Lotion 3.0 Oz)., and reviews can prove the value and reliability of the product. We do not want you to miss a great opportunity to get the New Victorian By Jessica Mcclintock For Women. Gift Set ( Eau De Parfum Spray 3.4 Oz + Body Lotion 3.0 Oz)..

Also Read : Best New Victorian By Jessica Mcclintock For Women. Gift Set ( Eau De Parfum Spray 3.4 Oz + Body Lotion 3.0 Oz)., New Victorian By Jessica Mcclintock For Women. Gift Set ( Eau De Parfum Spray 3.4 Oz + Body Lotion 3.0 Oz). Shop, New New Victorian By Jessica Mcclintock For Women. Gift Set ( Eau De Parfum Spray 3.4 Oz + Body Lotion 3.0 Oz)., where to buy New Victorian By Jessica Mcclintock For Women. Gift Set ( Eau De Parfum Spray 3.4 Oz + Body Lotion 3.0 Oz)., New Victorian By Jessica Mcclintock For Women. Gift Set ( Eau De Parfum Spray 3.4 Oz + Body Lotion 3.0 Oz). Discount

Justice from the Victorian Romantic Tarot. Justice is a card of…well, justice. Balancing things, weighing them evenly. Possibly being called to account for your actions. A judgement in your favor. Fairness and the rule of law.

Time to think logically, but balance rigid logic with the intuition, perhaps some compassion. Don’t let the letter of the law defeat the spirit of the law.

Here we have the Angel of Justice vanquishing a fallen angel. Under her left foot is a broken sword with two doves of peace close by. The original painting was by E. Butler, entitled “Angel of Peace” and she originally held an olive branch rather than scales. She wears a crown of laurel leaves, an ancient symbol of victory.

Not much time tonight, so I’m keeping this short. Just remember: the sword of Justice cuts both ways. Here’s hoping everything will go in your favor this week.