Sarah Churchill, Duchess of Marlborough, and Blenheim Palace

19 August 2011

Blenheim Palace has always intrigued me, and so one August weekend C and I decided to make a trip up to Oxford and spend the day exploring the estate.

Faces of Europe

Many of my family and friends are probably aware of my fascination with Gargoyles and Grotesques.
They're the delightful little carvings that make an ordinary house or church into something a little different and a little more personal. No doubt they officially represent the evils of the world, or the various forms of the devil, or something slightly boring. However what is wonderful is just how much variety there is between them, and no doubt how much joy the carvers got from creating them, knowing that others, now and in the future would get as much delight viewing them.

Bayerische National Museum

So, as I was nice, and decided not to inundate the posts of my travels around Europe with photos of the many beauties I found, I decided to save them up for one post so you too can appreciate their delight in full.

Salzburg's Franziskanerkirche, this lion is standing over
 a wounded man supposedly having mauled him to death.
I would take a more kindly view towards the lion,
but it is in a Catholic church. 

An Antique Recipe. (Spiced Sugar Biscuits)

Catching up on my reading from when I'd been in Europe, I stumbled upon a new blog of old recipes; Cooking in the Archives.

It appears to be only a recent project but the authors of this blog are trawling through collections of text dated 1600 to 1800 looking for old recipes that can be revived. For each recipe they publish, they provide a photo of the original recipe, and a transcript, deciphering the ornate and occasionally smudged handwriting. They then adapt the recipe into a format that is more familiar to modern cooks before making it and providing photos and a commentary of the finished recipe.

This particular one is My Lady Chanworth's Receipt for Jumballs, a dish I'd never heard of before. However the recipe sounded simple and a little like the strange flavourings I usually incorporate into my tea biscuits. As the Cooking in the Archives post made them sound like a refreshing, fragrant combination of flavours I thought I'd give them a go.

Meteora - Monasteries in the Mountains

Our last port of call in Greece was Meteora, an area in the north, well known for its unusual honey-comb rocks and rocky pillars, and the complex of Greek Orthodox monasteries that sit perched atop them.

We'd stayed the night just out of the town Kalambaka that sits at the foot of these boulders and so were able to be overwhelmed by their size and strangeness as we slowly wound our way up towards the monasteries.
As it was the middle of winter we'd been prepared for rain and dreaded fog, things that are renown for plaguing this area, however we were blessed to wake to sunshine and blue skies.

A Colour of Mourning

My Grandfather passed away two weeks ago and as the news was published in the newspaper and Facebook, the sympathy cards and flowers slowly started arriving.
Each and every one was beautiful from close friends and family, and family we had never heard of on the other side of the country. What intrigued me most though was that each bouquet of flowers (including the potted rose bush) comprised of white flowers, not a medley of cheerful coloured ones, just white.

I'm not complaining.
In fact I'm strangely pleased.
I mean, I know Black is the official colour of mourning (still) and black flowers are virtually impossible to get. And white is the next neutral, black-related colour that is most easily available in flowers.

But though lesser known, White is also a colour for mourning, and has been for a long time.

White was used for children and unmarried women (virgins?), a symbol of their unblemished reputation and social virtue. It's not in the slightest bit relevant to my grandfather, and I doubt he would have appreciated this lesser known historical tradition. But still...
As illustrated through the rings below, the iconography remained the same, but the colour of the enamel differed. Both rings date to the 1780s. As an aside, the illustrations under glass on each ring were likely draw using the hair of the deceased.

Historically, white has also been the colour of deepest mourning among Medieval European Queens. Louise of Lorraine, wife of Henri III of France wore white after the assassination of her husband, and became known as Reine Blanche (The White Queen).

Louise's sister-in-law Mary Queen of Scots is pictured above dressed in the white mourning expected of a French Queen. She had been Queen of France for 17 months and was mourning the death of her husband Francis II, in addition to her father-in-law Henri II and her mother Mary of Guise.
This custom in France influenced the Queen Mother's wardrobe several centuries later when she made a State visit to France whilst still mourning the death of her mother.
It was a tradition at the Spanish courts until the end of the fifteenth century.
Juliana of the Netherland's daughters wore white to their mother's funeral.

Though the flowers were not ordered with me in mind, I appreciate the historical elements they unintentionally depict.

Fashion as Empowerment

One of the many blogs I follow is that of the Smithsonian for its updates on natural wonders, medical marvels and historical discoveries through archaeology and research. Recently though I was pleasantly surprised to find that my own personal area of interest was under the limelight.

The article was 'Artwork Culled From the Collections Proves That No One Will Ever Be As Fashionable As the French: This collection of early 20th-century fashion plates reveal how women used their wardrobe for empowerment' and while it wasn't Napoleonic fashion, it was still historical fashion looking at fashion plates as a primary source.

The article looks at a series of elegant  fashion plates sketched by George Barbier and published in the Parisian magazine 'Journal des Dames et des Modes' between 1912 and 1914. They are beautiful plates, for their bright bold colours and styles depicting the change away from the S-silhouette and pastels of the Edwardian era, to a more streamlined fashion with a higher waistline, situated just under the bust, however it feels as though the author has missed a connection which would serve to add another dimension to the story of these plates.











Journal des Dames et des Modes was a Parisian magazine that ran between 1912 and 1914 but the early 20th century was not the time of the advent of the Parisian fashion magazine and particularly not the advent of this journal. What Amy Henderson does not mention was that the early 20th century just saw the revival of Journal des Dames et des Modes and the incorporated Costumes Parisiens, the fashion plates published therein.



The original Journal des Dames et des Modes was published between 1790 and 1839 with a small hiatus during the Reign of Terror, with each edition containing the coloured fashion plates that would be mimicked so exactly 100 years later.

Each plate contains the date in the top left corner, Costume Parisien top centre, and the plate number in the top right corner. Beneath the illustration is a small caption describing the chief fashion article within.

The reason for this mimicking may have been that the fashions in the prewar years resembled those of the French Revolution and Napoleonic era more closely that they did any other period in recent history; in the intermin, fashion had adopted the leg of mutton sleeves, the crinoline, the bustle and the S-silhouette to mention a few, while the years before the French Revolution had seen the paniers, all constructions that dramatically altered the shape of a woman's figure. 

Aside from the bright colours and suggestive poses of the women depicted, one of the chief differences between the original plates and the revivals may be that the original plates did not depict idealised or extreme fashions from haute couture designers who hoped to see their creations worn by the elite of Paris. The original Costume Parisien plates depicted fashions that were already being worn on the street: wardrobes that women were using to gain empowerment. 

Unfortunately, although Henderson mentioned it in the byline of her article, she fails to elucidate on what she defines as empowerment, and just how these revival "fashion plates reveal how women used their wardrobe for empowerment". Subsequently, though the title promised so much, the article becomes in some ways just an advert for an exhibition at the Dublin’s Chester Beatty Library, and replicas of the revival fashion plates on sale through the Smithsonian.

While I was disappointed at the omission, I was pleased that although it was not mentioned, Henderson's statement was actually entirely accurate, even if she was referring to the wrong set of plates. In the early days of the French Revolution when the social and political structures were ripped out from beneath their feet and French women could no longer use their social position or ties with men of note to define their place in the hierarchy of the French people, they turned to their clothes to reclaim the power they still expected to wield.

While the revival Costume Parisien plates "depict opulent fabrics, bold patterns and rich embroidery in crepes, and silks, and exotic plumage", in the early years of the French Revolution these were regarded as a sign of one's wealth and associations with the old aristocracy and were more likely to result in the loss of one's head than in the gaining of any form of power. Instead women had to resort to other elements of fashion to achieve their desired empowerment.

One of the reasons why the original Costume Parisien plates are so dull in comparison to the brighter revival ones is that the use of white linens and cottons was one of the ways women achieved this empowerment. White is a hard colour to maintain, even today, and white trains even more so, particularly in the days before proper sewerage and when the main mode of transport involved horses and unsealed roads. As a result, a woman's ability to remain in diaphanous white trains indicated a wealth that enabled her to be driven everywhere as opposed to walking through the dirty streets (owning and maintaining a carriage and stables), have her clothes washed properly (by servants), and having the wealth to be able to replace these white dresses with newer whiter dresses when desired. 

White empire-line gowns also replicated the clean sinuous lines of the classical statuary that had undergone a revival and represented the Roman Republic that was an inspiration for the new emerging France.

Response to a Lecture: Joan of Arc's choice of attire

A friend and I recently attended a free lecture at the Institute of Advance Studies on the reliability of the primary sources concerning the life and trials of Joan of Arc.

Joan of Arc is not someone I am usually interested in (she is the most thoroughly documented person in Medieval history and I prefer historical figures in the shadows or who have almost been forgotten completely) but the lecture was interesting. However being historians and already well aware of the reliability of source material, we came out of it more curious as to the reasons behind Joan's choice in favouring men's wear over women's, and why she did change back and forth between the two. The lecturer had made light reference to the impact of this on her trial and sentence but at the same time had implied that this was not an area he could answer, which was why he wasn't delving into it. Walking across campus afterwards, we, two young female historians, one interested in fashion history, the other in a woman's place in society, had difficulty understanding the difficulty the lecturer felt in justifying Joan's choice in attire. Even without assigning a saintly or Amazonian symbolism to her attire, historical knowledge and personal experience made it seem all too straight forward an answer.

A Timeline of Joan of Arc's attire:
1428
At Vaucoureurs when she stands before Robert de Baudricourt requesting an audience with the Dauphin  she is dressed as a woman in peasants dress referred to by Jean de Nouillempont  (aka Jean de Metz) as 'a red dress, poor and worn.'

Of her earlier campaigns she is later described as wearing 'relatively simple clothes... namely a long hood, a dark pleated tunic with belt and the hips and high leather leggings with pointed toes and attached spurs.'

Later she is accused of wearing sumptuous and magnificent clothes of precious cloth and gold cloth and also furs... She used all of the styles and clothes which the most dissolute men are accustomed to assume, having rejected all womanly modesty and being contrary, not only to womanly decency, but to that which is common to honourable men.*

March 15 1431
Having been arrested and held in an English military prison, guarded by men, Joan continued wearing her men's clothes. She is offered the chance to hear Mass if she will put away the men's clothes. In response she asks to have a long dress touching the ground, without a train, made for me and give it to me for going to Mass... [or then]... Give me a dress of the sort that a bourgeois girl would wear - a long skirt with something like a woman's hood - and I will take them to go to mass in.  This offer proffered no result.

Palm Sunday March 25 1431
Joan is asked if she would put on women's clothing so that she might hear Mass and receive the Eucharist at Easter. She replied that it was impossible for her, and pleased to hear the Mass whilst wearing male's attire as These clothes do not burden my soul, and to wear them is not against the Church. This request was refused.
Later that day she expressed her willingness to resume women's attire.

Thursday May 24 1431 
Joan signed an abjuration. She confesses that [she has] sinned grievously.... in wearing a dissolute habit, misshapen and dishonest, against the decency of nature, and hair cut round in the style of a man, against all honesty of the feminine sex. (I don't know whether Joan was aware she had signed this specific part, as she said she never understood that she had made and oath not to take back these men's clothes. It is possible this part of the abjuration was tacked on after she'd signed, something that sounds likely to have happened).
She is condemned to life imprisonment and led back to the English prison where she is outfitted in women's clothes.

Monday May 28 1431
Joan resumes wearing men's clothes and is accused of being a relapsed heretic.
When questioned why she has resumed women's clothes, Joan is recorded as responding that she had taken these clothes not long ago and had put off the women's clothes... that she likes these clothes better than women's clothes... I have done it of my own free will and because it was more fitting since I am with men. I began to wear it again because what was promised me has not been observed, to wit that I should to to Mass and receive the Body of Christ and be freed from these irons. Cauchon, her chief accuser and judge told her that when she had made her abjuration she had promised not to resume wearing men's clothing. Joan's response to this was I would rather die than remain in these irons, but if I am permitted to go to mass and be put in a decent prison with women to help me I will be good and do what the Church wishes. This was ignored by Cauchon.

Wednesday May 30 1431
Joan of Arc is burned alive.


In Joan of Arc's life, the wearing of male attire probably served a very specific purpose. She wore it because it was practical to the fulfilment of her mission and her role in the Military. One of the earliest mentions of Joan wearing male attire is upon her leaving Vaucoureurs. In one source she is described as wearing her uncle's clothes, in another those of her escort's servant.  Though she is not yet involved with the military, in both sources this is referenced within a few lines of a statement that a horse was procured for her for 16 francs. Regardless, of whom the clothes belonged to, two things are evident: the last minute procurement means that the choice of wearing men's clothing was not part of her existing peasant life or premeditated, and the men's clothing was a practical response to the fact that she would be riding to her next destination. The additional set of clothes she had, had been made for her by the people of Vaucouleurs who were now sympathetic to her cause.

This is supposedly a tapestry of Charles VII meeting Joan of Arc, though it is a little difficult to tell which of the soldiers she is supposed to be. 

Dressing in male attire when on a battlefield or residing in an army camp is practical and understandable. For undertaking the pursuits of a soldier, long, cumbersome, skin tight dresses are not ideal, nor are long flowing locks. Instead, Joan wore men's clothes and had her hair cut in a 'generic masculine haircut'. Her clothes and masculine haircut make her one of the soldiers, an equal with the men she fought alongside and captained. Dressed as a man it would have been easier for her fellow soldiers to forget that she was a woman, that they were taking orders from a woman, a weaker vessel.

It also would have meant that though a woman, she was not associated with the women of the army camp, women who for the most part would have been whores and prostitutes. Looking at the depictions of Joan 60 years later in "Les Vigiles de Charles VII" by Martial d'Auverbne, her appearance in women's attire differs little from the depictions of the prostitutes in another of the miniature illustrations.

Joan of Arc being led to her execution from Les Vigiles de Charles VII by
Martial d'Auverbne written between 1477 and 1483

Joan of Arc chasing prostitutes from her army's camp from Les Vigiles de
Charles VII by Martial d'Auverbne written between 1477 and 1483

Throughout her mission, Joan appears to have been gifted masculine attire; in Vaucouleurs she was made and gifted 'mens suits, hose, and all that was necessary' while at Orleans 'she received from the magistrates a forest-green surcoat trimmed with marten... and a vermillion tunic trimmed with beaver. While the clothes from the people of Vaucouleurs would have been 'relatively simple clothes', those received in Orleans were fashionable garments similar to those she was noted as wearing later in her campaigns. Karen Sullivan in 'The Interrogations of Joan of Arc' says that this 'tendency to adorn herself in the manner of fops and in the manner of the most dissolute men suggests that she experienced her coiffeur, her wardrobe, and by extension, her body not only as a means to an end but as an end in themselves. Because the clerics perceived that Joan took pleasure in her masculine trappings, they concluded that she chose them out of the desire to experience such pleasure.' I wonder instead if this 'tendency to adorn herself in the manner of fops' was in fact due to her increasing fame and the clothes she was gifted as a result. Or simply the result of peer pressure and the desire to fit in with her fellow soldiers or fellow captains. Meanwhile, her 'desire to experience such pleasure' from her masculine trappings may instead have been due to the unusual beauty of the pieces, be they masculine or feminine, resulting from the fact that she would never have experienced such outfits in her previous life as a peasant girl. Secondly, she may have taken pleasure from them because being masculine clothes, they offered her a freedom and security women's clothes never could.


Joan of Arc's capture marks the beginning of a separate period of her life, where her choice in clothing came to play an important role in how she was viewed and what she was accused of. Upon capture she was treated like a prisoner of war and thrown into a military prison where she was guarded by men, as opposed to a prison for women  or where she could be guarded or protected by women. Whilst in prison, to the great consternation/delight of the accusers Joan retained her masculine garb. The question becomes, why? Was it simply that she was maintaining her military habits in a military setting, or was it that it gave her something female garb could not?

Given that Joan did not see her military position as a permanent one, despite the military profile of her imprisonment, but instead that when [she has]done that for which [she has] been sent on the part of God, [she] will take women's clothes, this decision is to continue wearing men's clothes is exceedingly practical. The impression is that Joan planned to resume her female life and as a result tried to ensure that when she was viewed by society as a woman she conformed to expectations and ideals. As a result, it was necessary that she retained the things most prized in young maidens: their virtues and more importantly, their virginity.

At the time of her trials she was 19 years old, an unmarried girl, but of marriageable age. As a result, she offers to resume her female clothes when she has [been]put in a decent prison with women to help me and chaperone her. In addition, when she is offered the chance to attend mass if she will wear women's clothes, she asks for a long dress touching the ground, and a dress of the sort that a bourgeois girl would wear - a long skirt. These requests are for something long and modest and as evident in this second request, for something appropriate to the station to which she hopes to return when her divine mission has been fulfilled. This stance is also supported by the terminology used to describe Joan of Arc throughout her life. The term pucelle (maid) is used as opposed to vierge (virgin) the latter of which would indicate a lifetime vocation of virginity; in the image to the right, Joan is labelled 'Pulzella'.

The date of interest is Thursday May 24 1431 when Joan signs the adjuration and supposedly voluntarily resumed women's clothing. Three days later, on Sunday May 28 her accusers/assessors learn that she has resumed wearing male's clothes. When questioned, Joan is recorded as declaring I did it on my own will. I took it again because it was more lawful and convenient than to have women's clothes because I am with men; I began to wear them again because what was promised me was not observed, to wit that I should go to mass and receive the body of Christ and be freed from these irons. ...I would rather die than stay in these irons: but if it is permitted for me to go to mass, and if I could have a woman to help me, I would be good and do what the church wishes.

from Les Vigiles de Charles VII by Martial d'Auverbne written between 1477 and 1483

When viewed alone, this doesn't make that much sense for Joan does not appear to be explaining why she has provided her accusers with the very proof they needed to prove her a lapsed heretic. What is interesting is what happened during those intermediary days. According to Jean Massieu, having resumed women's clothes on Thursday when she woke on the morning of Trinity Sunday she could not find her women's clothes because the English guards had stolen them and only given her men's clothes to dress herself in. Being a modest young woman, with a choice of men's clothes or nothing/her shift and being overseen by a group of male soldiers, it's perfectly understandable why she dressed herself in the men's clothes which [the soldiers] had thrown at her. 

Martin Ladvenu provides a slightly different version, one which ties in with what Joan herself said in response. On one of these intermediary nights, someone approached her secretly at night; I have heard from Joan's own mouth that an English lord entered her cell and tried to take her by force.  The questions asked of Joan after her resumption of wearing men's clothing were when and for what reason had she taken anew these men's clothes? Karen Sullivan's analysis is that Joan answered the first part of the question but would not answer the second. I believe that in fact Joan did answer the second part of the question: since [she is] with men. The men's clothes, including the leather leggings mentioned earlier, would not only have been less alluring to men contemplating rape but would also have provided more of a barrier to rape than had she been wearing a woman's gown (without underwear as we know it). 

Throughout the ages, women's clothes have been viewed as alluring, regardless of their length, tightness, shape... Almost because bodily features were hidden from view they became alluring and incredibly provocative. An example in point is the female ankle which was hidden beneath long skirts until the 1910s when suddenly its continued visibility caused it to lose its appeal. In an age where excepting the occasional female saint or characters from myths, women did not dress as men, Joan's choice of masculine attire (and masculine attitudes) would probably have played a huge part towards her being accepted by the army as a strategist and a captain, and more importantly as 'one of them'. Her return to women's clothing would have reminded everyone around her visually that despite her attitudes, her military successes, her intelligence and her divine callings, she was in fact one of the 'weaker vessels', a female.

References: 
*Primary source material is marked in italics throughout the post. However this has all been pulled from the secondary sources below and therefore I am unable to verify the translation or indicate which text it originates from. 

Pernoud. Regine, Clin. Narue-Veronique, Joan of Arc: Her Story, 1999, Palgrave Macmillan
Sullivan. Karen, The Interrogation of Joan of Arc, 1999, University of Minnesota

Edmonds. Joan, The Mission of Joan of Arc, 2008, Temple Lodge Publishing

Researching Rome

This cover depicts the Santa Croce in
Gerusalemme Basilica

I've started writing a new novel, one set in Rome in 1880 and so in order to understand the setting I'm consulting the guide books and maps of the time. I want to know what had been discovered, what had been built, how did English tourists travel, where did they stay, where was church... and its proving very interesting.

Rome was a popular destination, away from the cold misery of the English climate, a place where there seem to have been less social restrictions, and where the more intellectually inclined could review their classical education or perfect the art of painting sunny vistas and picturesque ruins.

With the guide books no longer under copyright I've loaded up my kindle and am slowly compiling lists of attractions and relevant quotes regarding them. For while I know what intrigued me on my visit, these places were not necessarily available 130 years ago; they may not have been created as a state-of-the-art museum collection,  or may still be being preserved by the build up of 2000 years of Roman soil.

Thanks to these marvellous books I know that like the Count of Monte Cristo, English tourists preferred to stay in the area around the Piazza di Spagna - the square at the bottom of the Spanish Steps. It was here too that the artists' models would wait for work, lounging upon the sunny steps.

St Peter's (Not St Paul's)

24 August 2012

I should probably explain: having lived in London for two years, I'd come to refer to the big sainty church in the city as St Paul's. After all, in London, that's what the big church was... until we got to Rome. Unfortunately by then habit had set in, and my brain obviously didn't think it a life or death situation that needed rectifying.

Truthfully, St Peter, St Paul: in my eyes they were pretty much one and the same; two early followers of Jesus who set about establishing Christianity and the Catholic church/Doctrine as we know it. And they both ended up with big swanky churches.

Dressed at our most modest (shoulders and knees covered), Mum and I made our way to that church for a leisurely wander with the occasional comment... or two.

For popular attractions where there is a known problem of lengthy queues, we make a point of getting there nice and early so that regardless we can walk straight through. On this particular day there appeared to be little need for our forethought as the square was empty and winding queue lines completely empty.

Passing the very welcoming St Peter. Surprising really given the Catholic church doesn't believe they'll let in any old riffraff, unless he's since become aware of the pagan tourists wandering through his holy house in idle curiosity. 

Michelangelo's Pieta

I was collecting religious folks, particularly the camera-wielding variety, but missed the ultimate Charles Addams shot as none of them wandered into the sunbeam. As I was getting slightly excited at the sight of the delightful dears, I think Mum felt it was for the best. 

Charles Addams, in The New Yorker, 10 August 1940

Though you can't see it (the tourist/pilgrim is standing in the way) St Peter has lost his toes (and soon his foot) due to the good luck that oozes out of it thereby encouraging people to rub it.

All in all, there seems to be a plethora of monuments to important Catholics scattered throughout. In addition to more than enough Popes, each one seemingly vying for a bigger and 'better' monument, there are also a number of monuments to a number of monarchs who either lost of abdicated their thrones as a result of their religious convictions. 

Monument to Maria Clementina Sobieska, wife of the 'Old Pretender' to the English throne.

Monument to Queen Christina of Sweden

Monument to the Royal Stuarts (the Old Pretender and his two sons)

Monument to Pope Innocent XII

His Holiness of the Teacups

His Holiness of the Bees (not related to Napoleon
and his bees).

Monument to Pope Alexander VIII...

... complete with an hourglass-wielding Death.

Monument to Pope John XXIII(?)

Monument to Pope Clement XI

Growing up, my sister and I had our favourite Greek goddesses.
Mine was Artemis, hers was Athena. So for her now, Athena
 (or her illegitimate half sister Roma). And a big pussy cat.

An Altar inlaid with mosaics

A red porphyry sarcophagus of Probus, the 4th century Prefect of Rome, surmounted by the lid
 of the sarcophagus of Hadrian to which an ornament of the Lamb of God has been added.

Tis an elephant! (though it does look to have been photoshopped
 in accordance with the current ideas of feminine beauty)

Me and my love of gargoyles/grotesques. Aren't they beautiful!

It took us a while to notice, but every fresco, every painting within St Peter's is no longer the original, but has been replaced by a perfectly matched and crafted mosaic. The reason for this is that for the purposes of preservation the paintings need a constant temperature and humidity. With so many people coming through the doors of St Peter's this is impossible to attain. However as these are each and every one an integral part of the atmosphere and decoration of the place they have been substituted with meticulously detailed glass mosaics that will survive the ravages of time and tourist.

The view of one of the transepts from the base of the dome

Having satisfied our thirst for the inside we continued to climb upwards, spiralling towards the top of the cupola where there were to be had unparalleled views across Rome and the Vatican gardens.