Port Wine, War and Eccentricity

It's a delight to welcome Alicia Quigley back to the salon today to chat about port wine, war and eccentricity! Congratulations to Regan Walker and Caffey, who have won free copies of “Lady, Lover, Smuggler, Spy”!

---oOo---

Port Wine, War and Eccentricity 

There are few beverages more closely associated with the English upper classes of the 18^th and 19^th centuries than port wine. The image of gentlemen lingering over their port while the ladies retire to the drawing room is a strong one, and beloved of romance writers like me, because it offers ample opportunity for catty conversations or boozy confidences of the sort that can depict character and move the plot along. Beau Brummell, the dandy beau ideal of the Regency period, was as capricious about port as he was about many other things. While he was known to purchase it from Berry Brothers in St. James, and said “A gentleman always ports with his cheese,” this less positive remark from the Beau has also come down to us. “Port? Port? Oh, Port! The intoxicating hot liquor so largely drank by the lower orders.”

I was recently lucky enough to visit Porto, Portugal the home of port wine history and production. I had the chance to visit several port houses, learning something about the history and production of the luscious drink, and some of the less known but still colorful Georgian characters whose lives touched on this product. 

Wine making in the Duero valley goes back to the Roman period and the oldest port houses were founded in the late 16^th and early 17^th centuries. However, the real flowering of the industry coincides with the beginning of the Georgian period when a number of the port brands we still know today were established. In 1756, the region was declared a unique region and the name was protected (the 3^rd oldest such designation in the world). 

Porto has several major advantages: it is near the mouth of the Duero River, with an excellent port for ships taking wind to England, and the Duero valley itself has some of the best wine growing conditions in the Iberian Peninsula. In addition, along the river in Porto, there are numerous caves ideal for aging wines forming a perfect confluence. 

Several of the existing port wine houses originated in the late 17^th and early 18th century, and have founders and family histories marked by adventurous types. This is not surprising considering the difficulties of operating multi-national export businesses in that period. 

One of the reasons I wanted to visit Porto (besides the opportunity to tour various port houses and taste their products) was that it was the site of an important and interesting Peninsular War battle – The Battle of the Douro (also known as the 2^nd Battle of Porto), which essentially drove the French out of Portugal. 

One famous port producer, Croft, which can trace its origins back to the 1600’s, was being run by the 4^th John Croft at the time of the Peninsular War. The family had a long history and deep immersion in the business; the 2^nd John Croft had written a definitive treatise on port wines. 

The 4^th John Croft seems to have been an adventurous type, and as a wine merchant, sourcing product from around Portugal, he had every opportunity to travel extensively and meet with many local people who were largely violently opposed to the French occupation. Wellington and his staff were well known to enjoy good food, wine and large parties when the pressures of campaigning permitted. Campaign conditions in the Peninsula were notoriously harsh and access to good port was one of the few luxuries available to the officers, so it’s not surprising that John Croft became acquainted with Wellington. However, the 4^th John also began gathering intelligence for him for the British. Tracking the movement of French troops in the heavy woods and mountains of Portugal would have required people with detailed knowledge of the country, and a network of trusted acquaintances, which Croft, with his long family history and business ties in the region, would have had. 

Replica wine barges on the Duero River of the type used to move the English troops at the Battle of Porto

Wellington achieved his victory at the Battle of Porto by hiding his soldiers on the barges used to move the port across the river and surprising the French, who had destroyed the bridge and had nearly all the vessels in the area under guard. 

Watercolor of Portuguese worker delivering coal painted by John Croft

Another intelligence officer, Colonel John Waters, was instrumental in the victory at Porto. A local barber who was apparently one of his informants told Waters of four wine barges that were hidden unguarded in a marsh along the river. Early in the morning of 11 May in 1809 and with the help of some locals they sailed them to the English side without the French seeing them. Wellington was able to move 600 soldiers across the river to an unoccupied, but partially fortified seminary. From this location, the English were able to protect other troops being brought across the river from the French, and eventually roundly defeated Marshal Soult who held the town.

Colonel Waters went on to other exploits, and in 1811 was captured by the French before the Battle of Sabugal when he was reconnoitering French positions. He refused to give his parole and was sent under guard to Salamanca. Waters had a better horse than his guards’ and when he spied a chance to escape, he clapped his spurs to its sides and raced away between two lines of French soldiers. Some of them fired on him, while others cheered him on. He managed to duck into a wooded area, where he was able to shake the guards chasing him. A few days later, Waters reappeared at Wellingtons’s headquarters where his baggage was waiting. A dispatch explained it thus; “Lord Wellington, knowing his resolute, subtle character, had caused his baggage to be brought, observing that he would not be long absent.” Waters went on to a long and distinguished career including service at Waterloo, and retired as a much decorated general. 

General John Waters

After the French were pushed out of Portugal, Wellington called on Jack Croft to distribute relief money to the impoverished population of northern Portugal. He traveled around the country distributing money and for his efforts he was made a baronet, Sir John Croft of Cowling Hall, and later given the title of Baron of Serra da Estrela by the Portuguese crown. 

The money chest used by John Croft to distribute relief funds

While my new release, “Lady, Lover, Smuggler, Spy” does not take place in Spain or Portugal, my heroine’s character and life is heavily influenced by her experiences following the drum during the Peninsular War. Visiting these sites as well as reading the history has given me more insight into the conditions and her possible motivations. The following excerpt is an example of those motivations.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Excerpt:

Valerie fell silent, looking down at her hands, and Sir Tarquin, finding himself appreciating the sight of her blonde curls, fine figure, and aura of calm, didn’t need to stretch his imagination far to imagine the son of the Forney household had been unable to resist the temptation of the pretty governess.

“It makes me angry to think of you being preyed upon,” he said abruptly, much to his own surprise.

“It is a common enough problem, and far worse has befallen others. He did not force me and, while Mrs. Forney was unkind, I left of my own volition,” said Valerie uncomfortably. “My friends have helped me before and will help me now. I would rather spend my time with children, but perhaps I will have to seek employment as a companion to an older lady instead.”

“You do not deserve a life as a drudge to children or as the companion of elderly harridan, who will doubtless have a horrid grandson who will treat you as Mr. Forney did,” Sir Tarquin exclaimed. “You are young, and have given far too much.”

“Whatever do you mean?” she asked.

“You sacrificed a husband and a family to your country, did you not?”

“I suppose you could say so, although it has been three long years since then.” A wistful look came over her face. “It seems so far away. Thinking of it now, Robert and I were both practically children; it is almost as though it happened to someone else, or was a story someone told to me.”

“Yet you are still all but penniless and without protection as a result, are you not? That is not much of an ending to the story.”

She gazed at him thoughtfully. “It was my decision, though I was far too young to understand the possible consequences. In some ways it was worth it all the same; I loved Robert as much as an eighteen-year-old can love anyone, and perhaps even more, I loved following the drum.”

Sir Tarquin looked startled. “Did you really? Surely it was a very hard life for a gently bred and sheltered young lady?” 

Valerie laughed. “Indeed it was! I had no notion that such hardships were ahead of me. Yet the sense of purpose, of being needed and useful was inspiring . I was always rather bookish, and never truly enjoyed the rounds of parties and balls, to my stepmother’s despair.” She hesitated and continued, “My father you know, is very concerned about matters of manners and breeding, and my lack of interest in making a grand marriage upset him.”

Summoning up a vision of the ill-tempered Lord Upleadon, whose snobbery was legendary even among the ton, Sir Tarquin could easily imagine that he had made the Season a misery for his daughter. “I can easily imagine he was inexcusably harsh in expressing his disappointment,” he replied. 

“I see you know my father, so I won’t try to deny it,” she replied with a ghost of a smile. “But I can’t regret any of the difficulties, for I did discover the powerful joy of knowing that my life had meaning and purpose, and that overcame all else.

“Even in the tail of the Army with all the camp followers, and rabble you felt so?” Sir Tarquin asked curiously. 

“Oh, I rode with the column, Sir Tarquin,” she exclaimed proudly. “I had no children to care for and I was handy with horses even before I went on campaign, for my father’s stables are renowned and I spent a great deal of time in them as a child. I soon learned to kill and stew a chicken, and make sure that there was always something to eat at our billet, so it was not long before many of the other officers were to be found at our table.”

About the Author

Alicia Quigley is a lifelong lover of romance novels, who fell in love with Jane Austen in grade school, and Georgette Heyer in junior high.  She made up games with playing cards using the face cards for Heyer characters, and sewed regency gowns (walking dresses, riding habits and bonnets that even Lydia Bennett wouldn’t have touched) for her Barbie.  In spite of her terrible science and engineering addiction, she remains a devotee of the romance, and enjoys turning her hand to their production as well as their consumption.

About the Book

Mrs. Valerie Carlton is the widow of a soldier who died in the Peninsular Wars. Disowned by her family for “marrying down,” she survives working as a governess. When the elder son of the family makes unwelcome advances, Valerie leaves, seeking refuge with a close friend until she can find another position.

Sir Tarquin Arlingby, a wealthy, handsome bachelor on his way home, is staying at the same inn as Valerie and witnesses her being robbed before she can board the coach. He goes to Valerie’s aid and is instantly attracted to her. As her friend’s home is near his estate, he offers to drive her there.

An unfortunate accident forces the pair to spend a night in a village inn. Over dinner, Valerie talks about her experiences during the Spanish campaign against Napoleon and the sense of mission that she felt following the drum, which she misses in her current life. Sir Tarquin, who is secretly spying for the Crown by masquerading as a smuggler to pass information in and out of France, is intrigued by her bravery and his attraction increases. Valerie is also drawn to the handsome baronet.

Tarquin needs a French-speaking woman to pose as a smuggler during a mission to the “City of Smugglers” in Gravelines. When he discovers that Valerie speaks French like a native, he successfully recruits her for the job.

Will the pair survive their dangerous mission? Will they finally acknowledge the depth of their feelings for each other?

Find out in Lady, Lover, Smuggler, Spy, a Regency romance with intrigue, humor and just the right amount of moderately explicit sex for those readers who enjoy sensuality with their romances. 

Buy link:

Lady, Lover, Smuggler, Spy

Social Media:

Web Site and/or Social Media links

Twitter

Facebook

Written content of this post copyright © Alicia Quigley, 2016.

SaveSaveSaveSave

Song of the Sea Maid: An Interview with Rebecca Mascull

I am thrilled to welcome Rebecca Mascull to the salon today to chat about the inspiration, history and magic that has gone into her new novel, Song of the Sea Maid. 

Before we begin though, I must take a moment to let you know what a wonderful book Song of the Sea Maid is. 

Having adored Rebecca's debut, The Visitors, I can confirm that Song of the Sea Maid is more than a match for it. Beautifully evocative, the book really can transport you back in time and to another land; once you begin to follow the adventures of Dawnay, an educated foundling with a passion for science and travel, you will not want to return to the 21st century!

---oOo---

1. What really grabbed me was the sense of period that you captured so well. I'd be really interested in your research methods and the way you immerse yourself in the sense of place when writing = there's almost a hint of method. I'm intrigued to hear your thoughts on how children like Dawnay might have fared in the 18th century had they not had the fortune to meet her benefactors.

It’s so heartening to hear that, Catherine, thank you. I do my best with research, but it never feels quite good enough! I always feel, I could’ve done that more or this better. Funnily enough, I was doing a talk to some creative writing students the other week and someone asked me about the ‘immersion’ technique and I’d never really thought of it that way. But it’s right – I did actually compare it to method acting, so I guess I do something along those lines, though I don’t dress up in big frocks and wigs and flounce around the house (though maybe I should…) 

My main immersion technique is two-fold: firstly, read about the era in as much depth as I can, before and during writing, so that I’m ‘living’ in the C18th in my head while I’m drafting. Also, I read books written during the period – this works very well for picking up the tone of voice of C18th prose – both fiction e.g. I read Smollett, Fielding, Richardson, Defoe, Swift as well as non-fiction, such as diaries, letters, memoirs and essays etc. A brilliant book for this was The Memoir of an C18th Footman, which gave me a brilliant insight into the lives of the ordinary bloke on the street. I loved his turn of phrase and got some great nuggets of lovely language from him, which I shamelessly pilfered for some of my characters. So, all this reading I do in a kind of intense, full-on period for several months, until I reach a kind of critical mass where I know I’m full up to the brim and ready to start drafting. The other kind of immersion I do is a picture wall. I have three cupboard doors in my study that I plaster with pictures from the period every time I write a novel. When I walk into the room before I start writing, I stand in front of the doors and stare at all the pictures and it helps me to block out the C21st and step back in time. 

As for children in the C18th, many who weren’t rich had a pretty rough time of it, yes. I remember reading somewhere that the main thing about the C18th was that life was cheap. Children and animals were beaten and abused, as were women and servants etc. The wealthy were picked off by disease the same as anyone else, and medicine was in its infancy. There’s a scene I really enjoyed writing where a group of scientists and officers discuss the causes of scurvy – there was so much ignorance about the body and how it worked, it’s quite shocking. So, life was hard for most people. I could’ve written about a rich girl, but I wanted to put plenty of obstacles in my character’s path and see how she fared. If you couldn’t secure funds from someone or somewhere, it would’ve been very tough indeed for an orphan girl from nowhere with nothing to become educated and travel. So, needs must.

2. An easy one after that; what elements of the 18th century do you like/hate.

Well, as above, I’d say that the feeling that life was cheap was something quite shocking and frightening to me. The chaotic and cruel lives that people often led made me very sad to read about. There’s an image early on in the book of a cart full of paupers being taken through town in the middle of the night, moving them outside of the parish boundaries so that they could be dumped and the parish wouldn’t be liable for them. That sense of people as cattle, as things, is of course so miserable and depressing to a modern reader. The filth in the streets and the horrible incurable illnesses many got is also something that puts me off the period. However, there were some wonderful things about the C18th – the benefactors that sprang up, often self-made people like Coram, who simply wanted to do good. Also, I just love the look of it, the dresses and hats and wigs. The thought that everyone was wearing wigs, all the time, is just so nuts to me, it makes me laugh! And the age of sail, those beautiful ships, ah, so romantic to look at, but such a filthy hive of misery below decks quite often, sadly!

3. You balance the worlds of science and mythology perfectly; is this purely fictional for you, or do the questions raised in the book echo any of your own philosophy and beliefs? 

I’m really glad you asked about this, as it’s an element of the book that’s not been discussed much. I absolutely agree that this is an idea at the heart of this story. I’d say that some of the minor characters serve to highlight this tussle between science and mythology and religion, of course, that is something so characteristic of the C18th. For example, Matron is very superstitious, the Founder is deeply religious and Dawnay’s tutor Mr Applebee is very scientific. They all put forward their own ideas about how they see the world and Dawnay is influenced by them all in the way her thinking evolves. It was an age in which brilliant scientific discoveries and ideas were being bandied about – it was the Enlightenment, after all – and yet, at the same time, there was still a widespread belief in mythological creatures such as unicorns, dragons and mermaids. For that reason, it was such fun as a writer to explore that age and mix up all that science and religion and superstition, and watch Dawnay try to sail those waters and decide what she wants to believe in and what she rejects. As for me, I’d say I’m an agnostic about most things i.e. my general philosophy of life is, What do I know? I can’t tell you there is or is not a god, I can’t tell you what to believe. I’m pretty sure I don’t believe in God, but, as I say, What do I know? I also love churches and Bible stories and Christmas carols! I’m also a big fan of science – I just love it, despite not having a scientific brain. So, I like to have empirical proof of things, but concurrently, I’m a sucker for myths, legends, fairies, aliens, mermaids and all things fantastical! So, I’d probably fit quite nicely into the C18th…

4. It was wonderful to see Byng's tale in the novel, one that isn't so widely known now as perhaps it should be. War and current affairs were an important part of the book, but are contemporary events part of the "world creation" alluded to above? 

I first came across Admiral Byng’s story when reading Voltaire’s Candide (which I loved – what a crazy book!) One could write dozens of novels about the age of sail, of course, and many have! Horatio Hornblower and lovely stuff like that. My character was going on a sea journey so I needed to know about ships, but also she meets a sea captain, so of course, I wanted to explore the lives of sailors in the Royal Navy too. Not to give too much away, the world of sea battles was completely fascinating to me, how strategy was used and what was considered fair play or not. Poor Byng was caught up in that system and punished by it. I liked the challenge of placing my fictional characters within the backdrop of a factual landscape and watching them negotiate their way through it. It is a part of the ‘world creation’ I’m trying to achieve as a novelist, that my characters are living in the real C18th including real events, yet I want those events to be included because they are relevant to and affect my characters, and that the events are not there simply for their own sake. 

5. Lots has been said and written about the lot of women from all classes in the long 18th, but did you discover anything that surprised you about life for ladies in the era?

The thing that surprised me most was that women wore no knickers!! And when they menstruated, they just wiped it on their shifts! Vulnerable, perhaps, yet somewhat liberating too! I was really surprised and delighted to discover that women did travel alone on ships in that period. They had more freedom than one might imagine. I read a wonderful account of a woman who travelled alone towards Lisbon and was kidnapped by corsairs and taken to Morocco! It didn’t stop her, though, and she continued to travel. Many did. We just don’t hear about them. So, Dawnay’s journeys were quite pedestrian in comparison to some. I was also thrilled to discover that there were so many women scientists throughout history, if you bother to look for them. They don’t have statues built of them and we’re not really taught about them at school, apart from the odd exception, so again, Dawnay’s scientific career was unusual and yet not as exceptional as you might think. She had plenty of forebears. We just need to seek them out.

6. I'd love to hear your thoughts on anyone you may have found who might echo any of Dawnay's story; I feel as though *I* know Dawnay too, so vividly drawn was she.

Thank you so much, that’s wonderful to hear. Dawnay really was her own person. She just kind of hijacked me and told her own story. But she was partly based on a variety of reading I did about women scientists. The main two that influenced me in Dawnay’s creation were Émilie du Châtelet and Sophie Germain, though there were snippets of many other scientists I read about, including male ones such as Richard Feynman. Du Châtelet was a genius, a mathematician and scientist, a translator of Newton and all-round free spirit. She lived with her lover Voltaire and defied convention in so many ways. She also loved wearing nice frocks and loads of jewellery! I loved her defiance, her life lived as she wanted it. I read a story about Germain, that when she was a young girl she was determined to learn mathematics, but her parents didn’t approve. So she did it in her room and her parents stopped lighting her fire, so that she’d stay in bed, then they found her one morning wrapped in blankets asleep at her desk! She wasn’t allowed to go to lectures, because she was female, so she wrote letters to some great mathematicians of her day and learnt from them that way. I loved her absolute determination and pure self-knowledge, that she knew maths was the thing for her and nothing else would do and nothing would stop her! That’s Dawnay to a tee. Though I’m not a scientific person at all, there is a little bit of me in Dawnay, and that’s her stubbornness. There have been points in my life where someone in some kind of authority has said No to me, No, you can’t do that, I’m afraid. And I’ve always tried to find a way round it. Many times I’ve failed, but sometimes I’ve simply asked the question, Why not? And that can open up so many possibilities…

Synopsis

In the 18th century, Dawnay Price is an anomaly.  An educated foundling, a woman of science in a time when such things are unheard of, she overcomes her origins to become a natural philosopher.

Against the conventions of the day, and the alarm of her male contemporaries, she sets sail to Portugal to develop her theories.  There she makes some startling discoveries – not only in an ancient cave whose secrets hint as a previously undiscovered civilization, but also in her own heart.  The siren call of science is powerful, but as war approaches she finds herself pulled in another direction by feelings she cannot control.

Buy the Book

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1473604370

Amazon.com:http://amzn.com/B00OGLKJZU

About the Author

Rebecca Mascull lives by the sea in the east of England with her partner Simon and their daughter Poppy.  She has previously worked in education and has a Masters in Writing.  Song of the Sea Maid is her second novel.

Meet Rebecca Online

http://rebeccamascull.tumblr.com

https://twitter.com/rebeccamascull

https://www.facebook.com/RebeccaMascull

https://www.facebook.com/becca.mascull

http://uk.pinterest.com/rebeccamascull/

https://instagram.com/rebeccamascull/

"Only ordinary men die, not heroes": The Death of Pedro I

Pedro I of Brazil (aka The Liberator, Lisbon, Portugal, 12th October 1798 – Lisbon, Portugal, 24th September 1834)

We make a trip to South America today to witness the last act in the life of Pedro, Duke of Braganza, founder of the Empire of Brazil and former king of Portugal. His life was far from long but it was never anything but eventful and in less than forty years he packed in two marriages, over a dozen children, war, abdication and intrigue.

By 1833, however, the king's remarkable life was drawing to a close. He had abdicated the throne of Portugal in favour of his daughter and that of Brazil in favour of his son. However, events took a turn for the disastrous in Lisbon as that same daughter, Maria II, found herself usurped by Prince Dom Miguel, her paternal uncle. Determined to take back Portugal, Pedro I sailed for his homeland and invaded in the summer of 1832.

In fact, the invasion proved to be a drawn out and painful affair and the the ensuing war proved to have terrible consequences for Pedro as his usually rude health began to deteriorate at an alarming rate. When peace was reached in 1834, Pedro was already suffering from tuberculosis and though he took up residence in the Queluz Royal Palace, he was unable to move far from his sickbed.

The ailing Duke of Braganza knew that the end was drawing near and concerned himself with putting his affairs in order. He wrote an open letter to the ruling classes of Brazil in which he outlined his plans for the abolition of slavery, which he described as "a cancer". It was his final constitutional act and fourteen days later, in the middle of the afternoon, Pedro I died.

In accordance with his wishes, Pedro's heart was placed in Lapa Church at Porto whilst his body was laid to rest in the Royal Pantheon of the House of Braganza, his adventurous life finally at an end.

Life in the Georgian Court, true tales of 18th century royalty, is available at the links below.

Pen and Sword
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Book Depository (free worldwide shipping)

Joseph I and the Lisbon Earthquake

Joseph I (Lisbon, Portugal, 6th June 1714 – Sintra, Portugal, 24th February 1777)

We return to Portugal today, on the anniversary of the birth of King Joseph I, aka The Reformer. However, what has taken my interest was a very specific incident in the history of the country, one that proved catastrophic for Portugal and was to change Joseph's life and that of his court.

Joseph I of Portugal by Miguel António do Amaral, 1773

As the sun rose on 1st November 1755, the royal court attended mass and then left Lisbon to spend All Saint's Day away from the city, according to the wishes of one of the king's daughters. It was to prove a fortuitous decision as, just after nine o'clock that morning, a massive earthquake tore through Lisbon; in its wake came tsunami and raging fires, laying waste to the city. Tens of thousands of people died in the tragedy and the vast majority of the capital was razed to the ground, leaving the population and landscape devastated.

An engraving depicting panic at sea and fires on land following the earthquake, 1755

As work began to rebuild the shattered city and restore morale to the survivors, it became apparent that for all his efforts to help in the rebuilding of Lisbon, Joseph was suffering from a psychological disorder of his own. 

Although he was safely away from the city when the earthquake struck, the traumatised king developed a case of claustrophobia so severe that he refused to live in a palace again. Instead the entire court took up residence in a series of luxurious pavilions and tents on what was later to be the site of the Ajuda Palace. Away from the danger of collapsing masonry and falling walls the king's fears finally began to settle and for many years, the Lisbon court was a tented one.

Life in the Georgian Court, true tales of 18th century royalty, is available at the links below.

Pen and Sword
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Book Depository (free worldwide shipping)

The Death of Peter III of Portugal

Peter III (Pedro Clemente Francisco José António; Lisbon, Portugal, 5th July 1717 – Lisbon, Portugal, 25th May 1786) 

Peter III of Portugal

We have previously travelled to Portugal to make the acquaintance of John V and today we meet his son, Peter III, who died on this day in 1786. 

Peter was born to John V and his wife, Dona Maria Anna of Austria, in the Ribeira Palace. As the second son of the King, he was not prepared for monarchy and enjoyed a life spent in leisurely pursuits once his brother, Joseph I, came to the throne.

Peter's destiny was changed though when, at the age of 43, he married his cousin, 26 year old Maria, Princess of Brazil. As the daughter of the king, Maria was the heir presumptive and when his brother died in 1777, Peter and Maria became king and queen of Portugal. Their marriage produced seven children, three of whom survived infancy.

Whilst Maria was a just and well-liked ruler, despite Peter's strong support for the ruling class of Portugal, he had no interest whatsoever in the business of politics. He passed his days in outdoor pursuits or prayer and the couple's marriage was a happy and settled one. The death of her husband in 1786 shook Maria to the core and her already fragile mental health deteriorated further in the years that followed. She lived on for a further three decades, bereft at Peter's death and gradually consumed by insanity.

Life in the Georgian Court, true tales of 18th century royalty, is available at the links below.

Pen and Sword
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Book Depository (free worldwide shipping)

The Short Life and Tragic Death of Maria Isabel of Portugal

Maria Isabel of Portugal (Maria Isabel Francisca; Queluz, Portugal, 19th May 1797 – Madrid, Spain, 26th December 1818)

Maria Isabel of Portugal in front of the Prado by Bernardo López y Piquer in 1829 

It seems that not a day goes by without us meeting one of the many wives of King Ferdinand VII of Spain and today it is my pleasure to introduce you to the second of that illustrious group in as many days! Like two of the fellows, her life was short and her death tragic.

Born to John VI of Portugal and his wife, Carlota Joaquina of Spain, it was always intended that the young Infanta would one day make someone an excellent dynastic match. She was raised in preparation for that destiny, and developed an abiding passion for the arts.

Before she was too old, it was decided that the gentleman in question would be her maternal uncle, Ferdinand VII. Ten years a widower and with no heir, the king of Spain was in need of a wife and family and his niece fit the bill perfectly. The couple were married on 29th September 1816 when the bride was 19 years old, her groom thirteen years her senior.

The newlyweds got along nicely enough and before too much time had passed, news began to circulate that the queen was with child. She gave birth to a daughter in August 1817 but the little girl died before she was six months old. With the court still waiting for an heir, the young queen once again announced her pregnancy but once again the outcome was to be tragic.

The December birth of the second child was long and painful and the breeched baby was stillborn. Thinking the queen also dead, her physicians began to operate to remove the deceased infant. In fact, Maria Isabel was alive and she cried out in agony, bleeding profusely from her abdomen. The unfortunate young woman passed away that same evening, leaving Ferdinand a widow for the second time.

In 1819, the late queen's collection of art formed the basis of the newly opened Museo del Prado. Dedicated to her memory, Ferdinand later commissioned the portrait above showing his wife before the museum that was built in her honour.

Life in the Georgian Court, true tales of 18th century royalty, is available at the links below.

Pen and Sword
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Book Depository (free worldwide shipping)

"Love and scandal are the best sweeteneers of tea": The Life of Henry Fielding

Henry Fielding (Sharpham, Somerset, England, 22nd April 1707 – Lisbon, Portugal, 8th October 1754) 

Enough of monarchs and royals for a while, it is high time we made the acquaintance of a famed name of Georgian literature. The best claret is open, grandmother Gilflurt has been safely dispatched for a promenade in the park and I am privileged to welcome Henry Fielding, a man whose work was bawdy, satirical and often controversial. In between travelling, writing and creating a general stir, he even found time to establish the Bow Street Runners, London's very first police force.

Fielding was the first of seven children born to Colonel Edmund Fielding and his wife, Sarah Gould Fielding, the daughter of a judge who had disapproved deeply of the marriage. Never a great one for managing his finances, Colonel Fielding decided to give up the military life in favour of agriculture when his son was just an infant though he was never as successful as he had hoped to be. Sarah died when young Henry was just 10 years old and after a protracted legal battle he and his siblings were passed into the custody of his maternal grandmother, leaving Colonel Fielding to meet a sad end in a debtor's prison after he lost what remained of his estate to a dishonest financial broker. Dispatched to Eton College, Fielding proved himself a gifted student and formed abiding friendships with boys who would go on to be influential figures.

Upon his graduation in 1724 the young man went to London where he enjoyed something of a gadabout existence and formed an attachment to the wealthy Sara Andrews of Lyme Regis. Set on marriage, Fielding courted Sara until disaster struck and, involved in a fight with a fellow admirer, he was hauled before the town magistrates. Not to be deterred, Fielding made a botched attempt to abduct Sara and was left with no choice but to flee the town, finally admitting defeat in this particular pursuit. 

Casting about for something else to do with his days, in 1728 Fielding oversaw the unsuccessful staging of his first comedy, Love in Several Masques, at the Drury Lane Theatre. With his dramatic and romantic aspirations similarly thwarted, he left England behind to take up study at the University of Leiden, remaining there for just over a year before he fled the Netherlands and a growing pile of debt to return to England. During his time away he began to develop his signature satirical style, taking merciless aim at the Walpole administration and on his return to England, he found that his farces were suddenly exactly what the public wanted. In 1734 he married Charlotte Craddock, with whom he would have five children, though only one would survive to adulthood. He and Charlotte were devoted to one another and she inspired leading ladies in more than one of his works. 

By now a manager at the Little Theatre in Haymarket, Fielding continued to enjoy theatrical success and acclaim. Audiences lapped up his savage comedies and he became hugely influential, certainly contributing to the introduction of the Theatrical Licensing Act of 1737. With the Act, Fielding found his particular themes outlawed and retired from the theatre, taking up a career as a barrister. However, he was soon editing a journal, The Champion; or, British Mercury, with many of his articles showing an anti-Jacobite stance, a theme that would continue throughout his journalism.

Henry Fielding by William Hogarth

The writer had inherited his father's financial acumen and provided himself with a secondary income stream by writing satirical stories and articles. Time after time his shots at Walpole and his government hit the mark, his works selling as quickly as they could be printed and this was the case for his first novel, the anonymous An Apology for the Life of Mrs. Shamela Andrews, published in 1741. With Charlotte's death in 1744 Fielding was overcome with grief and he returned to London to live with his sister Sarah, who was also a novelist, and his maid, Mary Daniel. He and the pregnant Mary married in 1747 and the man who had once tried to abduct an heiress found himself engulfed by scandal again, though if Fielding cared, he hardly showed it. The couple adored one another until Fielding's death and faced the gossips of London without shame.  

Regardless of the mockery and disdain of his peers, Fielding's professional achievements were rewarded when he was named as London's Chief Magistrate and in 1749 he and his half-brother and fellow magistrate, John,  were behind the creation of the Bow Street Runners. As passionate about reform as he was about mocking Walpole, Fielding championed judicial reform and the often horrendous conditions in London prisons. 

Henry Fielding's tomb

This same year he published the book which is arguably his most famous, The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling. This work was hugely successful, capturing the public imagination with its comedy, adventure and romance. However, by now the writer's health was failing and he was increasingly disabled by gout, reliant on crutches. Perhaps mirroring the personal challenges he was facing, his next work, Amelia, was far less farcical, examining the relationship of a husband and wife as they deal with the tribulations of life.

Whilst on one hand Fielding appeared to be a pillar of the establishment, on the other he possessed a devilish streak and in 1752 he established The Covent-Garden Journal, a controversial paper in which he could air his opinions. By now in declining health he travelled to Portugal to seek a cure with his family, but his efforts were unsuccessful and Fielding passed away in Lisbon. 

The story of the author's last trip was published in his charming and evocative last work, Journal of a Voyage to Lisbon, a bittersweet coda to a life lived to the full. The magistrate, playwright, author and reformer was buried in the city's English Cemetery, his name deservedly immortalised by the works he left behind.