The Mystery of the Missing Countesses
Jan. 27th, 2012 09:53 amReading age of sail history and fiction you get used to the almost complete absence of women. You have seek out very specific publications such as Mary Lacey's autobiography The Female Shipwright, Suzanne Stark's Female Tars or David Cordingly's Women Sailors and Sailors' Women to get an impression of the lot of women at sea during the period. While this does rather make me *sigh* I accept it as inevitable feature of the historical narrative of the period. Every so often though you read something where the absence of women that you know were there becomes so obvious that it's startling.
Last month I read David Cordingly's Billy Ruffian, which is a wonderful book, fully deserving of all the praise that has been heaped on it by reviewers. One of the most fascinating chapters comes towards the end, when Bellerophon became the temporary abode of Napoleon on his surrender to the British, prior to his exile on St Helena. Cordingly provides a moving description of the moment Napoleon steps off the French brig Epervier and into the Bellerophon's barge thus handing himself over to his former British enemies.
Cordingly illustrates this momentous event with this aquatint by Jean Pierre Marie Jazet from the National Maritime Museum Collection.

It's a lovely illustration but neither hide nor hair can be seen of the countesses or the children. Of course it's unfair to criticise Cordingly for the oversight of a contemporary French artist, but the absence of the countesses and children is striking.
Later Cordingly goes on to describe how Napoleon and his suite were accommodated on board Bellerophon. Captain Maitland had suggested dividing the great after cabin in two, with one half for the Emperor and the other for the women and children. Las Cases, Napoleon's secretary, politely suggested that
Maitland agreed to any arrangement that would be most agreeable to Napoleon. Very magnanimous of him to be sure, but it did rather leave me wondering where the women and children went. The wardroom with the officers? The larboard berth with the mids? One can't help wondering, but Cordingly doesn't tell us. Later we discover that Countess Bertrand has been accommodated in the first lieutenant's cabin when Cordingly describes how she attempted to throw herself into the sea from the gun port on hearing that her husband was likely to accompany Napoleon into exile on St Helena.
I hate to criticise David Cordingly as he is one of my favourite naval historians, and one of the few who has actually written about the lives of women at sea, but I couldn't help being struck by these noticeable absences in an otherwise excellent book. So for the record, here are the missing countesses:
For a fascinating article on Albine and Fanny, and their relationship with Napoleon and each other, I can highly recommend John Tyrell's blog post The Ladies of Longwood: Albine de Montholon & Fanny Betrand.
Last month I read David Cordingly's Billy Ruffian, which is a wonderful book, fully deserving of all the praise that has been heaped on it by reviewers. One of the most fascinating chapters comes towards the end, when Bellerophon became the temporary abode of Napoleon on his surrender to the British, prior to his exile on St Helena. Cordingly provides a moving description of the moment Napoleon steps off the French brig Epervier and into the Bellerophon's barge thus handing himself over to his former British enemies.
The sailors helped Countess Bertrand and her three children and Countess Montholon and her child into the barge. General Bertrand and General Savary followed. Napoleon was the last to leave the French brig and step down into the British boat. It was a symbolic moment which was not lost on those present. The Emperor was surrendering to the enemy.
Cordingly illustrates this momentous event with this aquatint by Jean Pierre Marie Jazet from the National Maritime Museum Collection.
It's a lovely illustration but neither hide nor hair can be seen of the countesses or the children. Of course it's unfair to criticise Cordingly for the oversight of a contemporary French artist, but the absence of the countesses and children is striking.
Later Cordingly goes on to describe how Napoleon and his suite were accommodated on board Bellerophon. Captain Maitland had suggested dividing the great after cabin in two, with one half for the Emperor and the other for the women and children. Las Cases, Napoleon's secretary, politely suggested that
"...the Emperor will be better pleased to have the whole of the after-cabin himself, as he is fond of walking about, and will by that means be able to take more exercise."
Maitland agreed to any arrangement that would be most agreeable to Napoleon. Very magnanimous of him to be sure, but it did rather leave me wondering where the women and children went. The wardroom with the officers? The larboard berth with the mids? One can't help wondering, but Cordingly doesn't tell us. Later we discover that Countess Bertrand has been accommodated in the first lieutenant's cabin when Cordingly describes how she attempted to throw herself into the sea from the gun port on hearing that her husband was likely to accompany Napoleon into exile on St Helena.
I hate to criticise David Cordingly as he is one of my favourite naval historians, and one of the few who has actually written about the lives of women at sea, but I couldn't help being struck by these noticeable absences in an otherwise excellent book. So for the record, here are the missing countesses:
For a fascinating article on Albine and Fanny, and their relationship with Napoleon and each other, I can highly recommend John Tyrell's blog post The Ladies of Longwood: Albine de Montholon & Fanny Betrand.