Anteros

I came across this delightful quote in a naval biography recently. I'll leave you to imagine my reaction...

Smooth, brilliant, speckless, a thing so brilliant in form, so graceful in position, so admirably proportioned.....the whole compact, fitted utility and beauty, even more perfectly than that wondrous thing of twelve inches length, on which I had looked with so much admiration!

In case you're wondering, the author is comparing a ship model to an actual ship. Why? What else did you think he was referring to? :}

( Complete quote below )

I’ve just started reading rather charming little miscellany called A Sea Chest: An Anthology of Ships and Sailormen, written by Miss C. Fox Smith in 1927. I haven't previously come across Miss Fox Smith but she appears to be the original AoS fangirl. And she certainly knows what she likes and what she doesn’t! Here’s her assessment of Marryat and Melville:

To the latter part of the period under consideration belong Marryat’s novels, which it is rather the fashion nowadays to despise. No doubt the Captain was not what we should now term a “highbrow”; but he had a wonderful faculty of observation, coupled with a sense of humour a modicum of which, I can not help thinking, Herman Melville would have been none the worse for. Melville has enjoyed an immense vogue since someone “discovered” him not long ago. I read him years since in his pre-discovery days; and thought then, as I still think, that he could be appallingly turgid at times, and that the glorious plums his books contain are sometimes buried in a sorry deal of indigestible transcendental pudding.

That’s you told Herman!

David Garrick as Richard III. (Not Captain Fearon!)

Earlier this week the British Library's fabulous Untold Lives blog posted a charming little article about Captain James Peter Fearon, an East India Company captain who performed the title role in Richard III at the Theatre Royal Drury Lane on 17 January 1803.

Captain Fearon’s theatrical debut as Richard III was well-received by the large number of sailors in the audience and by the press. He gave the performance twice more in January. The Monthly Mirror believed that he could have a stage career as there was "much genius" in his performance notwithstanding the blemishes. His voice was described as "uncommonly powerful, but not so melodious" and he was praised for his "freedom of deportment, confidence, feeling, and unabating spirit". However Fearon was criticised for hurrying through many of the most significant soliloquies as if he did not understand their meaning: "He appears, throughout, to be running a race with the character, and frequently gets the start of it". The Morning Post wrote that the Captain’s face was capable of very little variety of expression, yet he had the great recommendation of being no imitator but a truly original Richard.

Captain Fearnon sounds rather splendid doesn't he? I wonder what Archie would have made of him? Or indeed George Cadogan, who seems to have had something of a theatrical bent.

You can read more about Captain Fearnon here: A truly original Richard III

I'm off to Paris for a coulple of days for a conference. This is how The Times described it in 1802.

"Paris, under the Regent of Orleans, was not so profligate and corrupt as it appears to our best travellers at present. Gambling, debauchery, intemperance, and the insatiable desire after public spectacles, with all the vices in the train of indolence and licentiousness, form the monotonous indiscriminable character of the Citizens."
The Times, 23rd September 1802

Sounds like fun no? Sadly I think my conference will be rather less entertaining.

Quoted in Alger, J. G., (1904) Napoleon's British Visitors and Captives, Archibald Constable and Company, Ltd., Westminster.

On the 15th of June 1780, 233 years ago today, a British frigate sighted a strange sail off the northern coat of France and gave chace. The frigate was the Apollo, 32, Captain Philemon Pownoll and the chase, the French 32 gun frigate Stanislaus. The Stanislaus attempted to flee for Ostend but Appollo closed and engaged her in a brisk action. About an hour into the engagement Captain Pownoll was was killed on his own quarterdeck by a French shot and command of the frigate devolved to his first lieutenant, Edward Pellew. The Stainslaus continued to run for Ostend where she struck off the harbour and claiemd the protection of the neutral port.

After the engagement, Pellew wrote a distraught letter to the First Lord of the Admiralty, Lord Sandwich, in which he lamented the loss of his captain, friend and patron.

The loss of Captain Pownoll will be severely felt. The ship's company have lost a father. I have lost much more, a father and a friend united; and that friend my only one on earth. Never, my lord, was grief more poignant than that we all feel for an adored commander. Mine is inexpressible....It was ever my study and will always be so, to pursue his glorious footsteps. How far I may succeed, I know not; but while he lived I enjoyed the greatest blessing, that of being patronised by him."

Although this letter is often quoted, two of Pellew's sons maintained that their father never actually sent it to the First Lord. However that does nothing to diminish the heartfelt nature of the sentiments and I think it's fair to say that Pellew did indeed have considerable success in following in Pownoll's footsteps, not just as a brilliant frigate commander, but also as a patron of many other young officers, who in turn followed in his own footsteps.

Posting Duchess and the Devil screencaps over at following_sea reminded me of something else I've been meaning to post for ages. I've always been curious about Pellew's reaction to Hornblower's captivity and escape, and the utterly improbable reappearance of Archie several years after he'd presumably been given up for dead. How would he have responded to their absence and return? Alas the series gives us very little indication.

Several of the Indefatigable's historical midshipmen did actually get captured by the French while crewing prizes, though mercifully all where swiftly exchanged or managed to escape and return to their ship. We can only imagine what Pellew must have felt on learning that they had been captured, but one of their fellow midshipmen, Nicholas Pateshall, lamented their fate in a letter to his brother:

The most valuable of our prizes which I mentioned in my last was retaken by a French privateer within 5 miles of Falmouth in which I lost a worthy messmate and two other midshipmen.

There is one letter from Pellew however, written in direct response to a former prisoner of war, Donat Henchy O'Brien. O'Brien was captured while serving as a master's mate aboard the Hussar frigate, which was wrecked off the Saints in 1803, while carrying despatches from Pellew. Thus began five years of imprisonment at Charlemont, Verdun and the notorious citadelle of Bitche. O'Brien was not a man to be contained though, he managed to escape, or in his own words “went on the tramp”, three times and during his second failed solitary attempt survived a gruelling month on the run along the banks of the Rhine in the depth of winter. O’Brian finally got away with three companions after descending the ramparts of Bitche and walking half the length of Europe from Lorraine to Trieste. After the war, O'Brian wrote an account of his experiences called My Adventures During The Late War: An account of his shipwreck, captivity, and escape from France, after undergoing a series of sufferings which lasted for nearly five years. Following publication, O'Brien sent a copy of his narrative to Pellew who responded with the following letter.

London, 14th May, 1825
My Dear Sir

I found on my table, on my return home, your kind note and your Narrative. I feel very much obliged to you for both, but particularly for the latter, which I shall preserve well bound, that my grandchildren may read and admire your manly and unconquerable spirit,—your indefatigable zeal and perseverance; giving a noble example to their young minds of what a British officer can do for the honour of his country and his own.

Accept my sincere and cordial thanks, and believe me, my very sincere good wishes will ever attend you.

I have the honour to be,
      My dear Sir,

Most faithfully and much yours,
Exmouth.

I love the fact that Pellew refers to O'Brian's "indefatigable zeal" and I like to think that he would have responded to Archie's attempts to escape in similar terms.

9th of January is a memorable date in naval history as it marks not only the funeral of Nelson, but also the birthday of John Jervis, Earl St Vincent who was born this day in Staffordshire in 1735.

I'm not going to even attempt to summarise Jervis character and career. Suffice to say he was a mass of contradictions. He was a notoriously taut hand and harsh disciplinarian but could also be immensely kind to his men. A staunch supporter of those he favoured such as Nelson and Troubridge, he was also an implacable foe of those whose character displeased him, such as Thomas Cochrane, or who fell out of favour, as Edward Pellew did. Towards the end of his life, relatives of St Vincent attempted to effect a reconciliation with Pellew but St Vincent refused all their overtures. Oh, and he hated Scots and was none too fond of Jack Aubrey either! Perhaps unsurprisingly, St Vincent seems to have got on rather well with Hornblower. But then, like St Vincent, Hornblower could be a bit of a contrary old bugger too ;)

Here's Forester's description of the man from Lord Hornblower

Beyond the door St. Vincent was awaiting them, the little wind tossing the ostrich feathers of his hat and ruffling the crimson cloak of silk. His massive legs bulged the white silk trunk hose; and he was pacing up and down on huge, gouty, deformed feet that distorted the white silk shoes. But the fantastic costume in no way detracted from the grim dignity of the man.

PS St Vincent has a street named after him in Glasgow. St Vincent street crosses Cochrane Street right in the center of the city. I'm sure both men would be delighted that their names live on side by side. Not.

This is for katriona_s, and anyone else who happens to need cheering up. I defy anyone to read this and not smile.

On the 19th of June 1871 twelve year old Annie H. Ide, daughter of the US Commissioner of Samoa, received an unusual gift. Annie had always felt rather hard done by as her birthday happened to fall on the 25th of December. I wonder how she felt when she received the following "official" document from a friend of her father, one Robert Louis Stevenson?

19 June 1891

Dear Mr Ide,

Herewith please find the DOCUMENT which I trust will prove sufficient in law. It seems to me very attractive in its eclecticism; Scots, English and Roman law phrases are all indifferently introduced and a quotation from the works of Haynes Bayly can hardly fail to attract the indulgence of the Bench.

Yours very truly,

Robert Louis Stevenson

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

I, Robert Louis Stevenson, Advocate of the Scots Bar, author of The Master of Ballantrae and Moral Emblems, stuck civil engineer, sole owner and patentee of the Palace and Plantation known as Vailima in the island of Upolu, Samoa, a British Subject, being in sound mind and pretty well I thank you in body:

In consideration that Miss A. H. Ide, daughter of H. C. Ide, in the town of St Johnsbury, in the County of Caledonia, in the State of Vermont, United States of America, was born, out of all reason, upon Christmas Day, and is therefore, out of all justice, denied the consolation and profit of a Proper Birthday;

And considering that I, the said Robert Louis Stevenson, have attained an age when O, we never mention it, and that I have now no further use for a birthday of any description;

And in consideration that I have met H. C. Ide, the father of the said A. H. Ide, have transferred, and do hereby transfer to the said A. H. Ide, All and Whole of my rights and privileges in the 13th day of November, formerly my birthday, now, hereby, and henceforth, the birthday of the said A. H. Ide, to have, hold, exercise and enjoy the same in the customary manner, by the sporting of fine raiment, eating of rich meats and receipt of gifts, compliments and copies of verse, according to the manner of our ancestors;

And I direct the said A. H. Ide to add to her said name of A. H. Ide the name Louisa - at least in private; and I charge her to use my said birthday with moderation and humanity, et tamquam bona filia familiae, the said birthday not being so young as it once was and having carried me in a very satisfactory manner since I can remember;

And in case the said A. H. Ide shall neglect or contravene either of the above conditions, I hereby revoke the donation and transfer my rights in the said birthday to the President of the United States of America for the time being.

In witness whereof I have hereto set my hand and seal this 19th day of June in the year of grace eighteen hundred and ninety-one.

Robert Louis Stevenson
I.P.D.

Witness: Lloyd Osbourne
Witness: Harold Watts

Peers of the realm in ridiculous regalia seems to be a bit of a theme this month, so following on from Ned looking like an old cushion, and Jacques Bergeret looking like a handsome old devil, here's a another French peer with something to say on the subject....

I'm currently reading a book about Marshal MacDonald, Duke of Tarentum. MacDonald has a fascinating backgound and strong connections to the Outer Hebrides where I'm from. His father Neil MacEachen was a Jacobite tacksman from South Uist and a close confidante of the Young Pretender, Charles Edward Stuart. It was MacEachen who was responsible for concealing the prince in the Hebrides and for smuggling him out of Scotland and back to France, after the Battle of Cullodon and the failure of the 1745 Jacobite rebellion. MacEachen later followed the prince to France where he lived in poverty for most of his life after Stuart was exiled to Rome.

His son Alexandre MacDonald joined the army with a minor commission and progressed through the ranks to become a highly respected general. Marshal MacDonald had a testy relationship with Napoleon, who initially distrusted him but eventually recognised his loyalty and military brilliance. MacDonald remained unflinchingly loyal to Napoleon until his abdication, but from that point onwards transferred his allegiance to back the restored monarchy. He later became Marshal of France, High Chancellor of the Order of the Legion d'Honneur and, like Bergeret, a Peer of France.

Towards the end of his life. MacDonald visited Britain and made a pilgrimage to North Uist to vist his family's ancestral home. A travel diary kept by the Duke during this trip has recently been discovered in the Centre Historique des Archives Nationales, Paris, and has been translated by Jean-Didier Hache and published by the Islands Book Trust.

During MacDonald's tour of Britain he was presented to both the House of Lords and the House of Commons where he was appalled by the MPs lack of ceremonial dress.

The Marshal, himself a member of the French parliament, is much surprised by the fact that the British parliamentarians do not wear any sort of uniform or costume indicating their position and that they are:

"...sitting or lying on their benches with hardly any decency."

Politicians with hardly any decency? Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose... ;)

Hache, J.D., and Stuibhart, D. U., (2010), The French MacDonald. Journey of a Marshal of Napoleon in the Highlands and Islands of Scotland. The 1825 travel diary of Jacques Etienne Joseph Alexandre MacDonald, The Islands Book trust, Isle of Lewis.

Earlier today a query from author elin_gregory about early 18th century naval uniform (or lack thereof) sent me off to look up Dudley Jarrett's British Naval Dress. Among lists of 18th century contractors clothing orders, mostly comprised of Shrunck Grey Kersey Jacketts, Wast coats of Welsh Red, shirts of Blew and white chequer'd Linnen and Strip'd Ticken Breeches, Jarrett notes that one contract dating to 1717 also included:

Red flowered shag breeches, the buttonholes stitched with gold thread.
Red flowered shag breeches with gold button holes?! Do you think that's the early eighteenth century equivalent of shag-me-shoes?

Okay, so shag actually refers to "cloth having a velvet nap on one side", but don't let that stop you sniggering ;)