Sunday 30 December 2012

12 Days of Christmas - Day 6

Twelve Days of Christmas – Day Six


The Feast of the Holy Family

The Veneration of the Holy Family - the Child Jesus, the Virgin Mary and Saint Joseph – through the mercy of the Christ Child, consecrates the example of ideal family life, and the fellowship of men, women and children.



Saturday 29 December 2012

The Twelve Days of Christmas - Day Five

Twelve Days of Christmas – Day Five


Thomas Becket (1118–29th December 1170, also known as St. Thomas of Canterbury, was of Norman descent, and was born in Cheapside, London. As a boy he often visited the estate of his father’s rich friend, and probably participated in horse riding and hawking. He joined the Archbishop of Canterbury’s staff, and became a negotiator, and was expert in legal matters. On the recommendation of the Archbishop of Canterbury he became Henry II’s friend and Lord Chancellor. The king and the astute Thomas Becket led an army into battle; later the king, who wanted control of the Church, ensured Thomas became Archbishop of Canterbury in 1162.

Thomas put the Church first, and opposed Henry concerning the rights of the Church. Eventually, Thomas was forced to flee to France, but after some time Henry and Thomas superficially patched up the differences. However, without Thomas’s permission the Archbishop of York crowned the Prince of Wales (a ceremony which ensured the succession to the throne). Thomas excommunicated the Archbishop of York and other bishops for defying the Pope’s authority. An infuriated Henry spoke out in the presence of courtiers. “Who,” he demanded, referring to Thomas Becket, “will rid me of this troublesome priest?” Four of his knights rode to Canterbury and murdered Thomas before a side altar in Canterbury Cathedral. Subsequently, Henry neither arrested the assassins nor confiscated their estates but the Pope excommunicated them. Not long after his death Pope Alexander canonised Thomas.

An important shrine, St.Thomas’ tomb became one of the most important places of pilgrimage in Christendom. He is venerated as a saint and a martyr by the Roman Catholic and the Anglican Churches.



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Friday 28 December 2012

The Twelve Days of Christmas - Day Four

The 12 Days of Christmas – Day 4


The fourth of the twelve days of Christmas on the 28th of December is Holy Innocents’ Day, which was for fasting not feasting.

According to the Gospel of St. Mathew, the Magi (the three wise men) told Herod that the King of the Jews would soon be born. Herod requested the Magi to return and tell him when they found the baby. However, an angel warned them not to, so they returned home by another route.

Thwarted because he could not implement his plan to murder the Christ Child, Herod gave orders for all the boy children in Bethlehem who were under the age of two to be slaughtered. The murdered innocents are regarded as saints and are the patron saints of foundlings.

People believed no work undertaken on the 28th of December would prosper, and that the day of the week on which Holy Saints’ Day fell would be unlucky throughout the following year.

A carol titled The Coventry Carol dates from the 16th century, it was part of a mystery play called "The Pageant of the Shearmen and Tailors". The carol is a mother’s imaginary lament for her ill-fated son. The following is one of the modern

Chorus

“Lully, lullay, Thou little tiny Child,
Bye, bye, lully, lullay.
Lullay, thou little tiny Child,
Bye, bye, lully, lullay. )

O sisters too, how may we do,
For to preserve this day
This poor youngling for whom we do sing
Bye, bye, lully, lullay.

Chorus

Herod, the king, in his raging,
Charged he hath this day
His men of might, in his own sight,
All young children to slay.

Chorus

That woe is me, poor Child for Thee!
And ever mourn and sigh,
For thy parting neither say nor sing,
Bye, bye, lully, lulla.”

Chorus













Thursday 27 December 2012

12 Days of Christmas - Day 3

The Twelve Days of Christmas – Day Three


The third of the twelve days of Christmas on the 27th of December is the feast day of St. John the Apostle or as he is often named John the Evangelist.

John, a son of Zebedee fished with his brother James the Great in Sea of Galilee for their living until Christ commanded them to cast down their nets and follow him to become Fishers of Men and Women. We cannot be sure of his fate. One version is that after the crucifixion Jesus commanded John to look after His mother Mary. The other is that he was martyred in Jerusalem at the time when his brother, James the Great, was. (James the Great was the first of the apostles to become a martyr when h was beheaded.)

John wrote the Gospel of St. John, and The Book of Revelations has been ascribed to John the Apostle but it is difficult to prove it.

There are two legends about him, in the first, after he refused to acknowledge the Emperor Domitian, he was boiled in a cauldron of oil from which he emerged unharmed; in the second, he was ordered to drink poison to prove God existed, however the poison became a snake that slithered out of the cup enabling the saint to drink without ill-effect.. John was then accused of being a magician and exiled to Patmos.

Wednesday 26 December 2012

12 ~Days of Christmas - Days 1 & 2

12 Days of Christmas - Days 1 & 2


Christmas Eve, New Year’s Day and New Year’s Eve are not included in the twelve days of Christmas, so they differ from the advent calendar.

In times past these days were an excuse for prolonged feasting, Nowadays, Christmas decorations are taken down on twelfth night, perhaps in deference to the belief that not to do so would bring bad luck.

The first day of Christmas celebrates the birth of Christ. The second day, December 26th, is the Feast of Saint Stephen, a Jew who was one of the first deacons to administer the Church in Jerusalem. Stephen was judged guilty of blasphemy and, became the first Christian martyr who, according to the New Testament, was stoned to death outside the Damascus Gate in Jerusalem thus becoming the first Christian martyr c. AD 35

Saint Stephen is often represented with either a stone on his head or stones in his hands. Maybe this is why he is the patron saint of builders and bricklayers.

In times past the day was celebrated with mumming plays and sword dances as well as the unpleasant custom of wren hunting, due to the belief that while the saint attempted to escape from prison the little bird began to sing thus betraying him to the prison guards.

There is a “Carol for St Stephen’s Day,” which refers to Stephen, Herod’s servant working in the kitchen the first verse of which is:

“Stephen out of the kitchen came, with boar’s head in hand,
He saw a star was fair and bright over Bethlehem stand,
He cast down the boar’s head, and went into the hall;
I forsake thee King Herod, and thy workes all;
There is a child born in Bethlehem better than we all.’

The other carol, which is well known, and believed to be historical fact, describe Good King Wenceslas looking out of the window and seeing a poor man collecting winter fuel.





Monday 24 December 2012

Father Christmas - pre-Victorian

Father Christmas - pre-Victorian


Those who have children in their families have probably experienced them bouncing about like excited puppy dogs on Christmas Eve. And more than likely they have yawned while despairing of the children going to sleep because they want to see Father Christmas.

In the early 17th century when the Puritan Government frowned on or banned merrymaking at Christmastime, Christmas was depicted as a merry old man who brought good cheer. The name, Father Christmas is now used in English-speaking countries, but elsewhere his is known by other names such as Pere Noel in France, Babbo Natale in Armenia and Noel Baba in Turkey.

In a masque devised by Ben Johnson, which dates from December 1616, Christmas says: "Why Gentlemen, doe you know what you doe? ha! would you ha'kept me out? Christmas, old Christmas?" Twenty-two years later in a masque by Thomas Nabbes Christmas made his entrance as an old gentleman wearing a furred gown and cap. Between then and 1686, when Josiah King wrote a pamphlet introducing Father Christmas, a representation of pre-Commonwealth traditions, other works were published for and against Christmas. King’s Father Christmas encouraged feasting, making merry and abundant hospitality.

For two hundred and fifty years Sir Christmas, Lord Christmas or Father Christmas continued to be a part of the seasonal festivities. In Yorkshire on Christmas Eve children marched in the streets playing music.

In Queen Victoria’s reign the image of Father Christmas merged with St Nicholas, known as Sinterklaas (Santa Claus) in Holland.

Tonight, (Christmas Eve) I shall stay at my daughter’s house. The children have sent their requests for presents to Father Christmas, who they believe lives at the North Pole, their stockings will be hung up at the ends of their beds and the presents piled under the Christmas tree. I am privileged to share their joy, the same joy I once experienced when my parents created a magical Christmas for me.

P.S. The Coca Cola company was not the first to depict Father Christmas as a large, jolly old man, dressed in red.











Sunday 23 December 2012

Christmastime - Some Old Customs

In the cold, dark winters days the birth of the Christ Child gave renewed hope to Christians and heralded the coming of spring. It was also the time of magic when superstitious people believed fairies, elves, witches and goblins roamed the land, and the ghosts of the departed visited their previous homes. On Christmas Day families cleaned their houses, set the tables and put meals on them before they went to church. They believed that if their ancestors approved of the preparations for their welcome the New Year would be happy and prosperous. On the other hand, shrieking winds which sounded like the howling voices of lost souls, who it was believed traversed the world, gave rise to legends such as The Wild Hunt or The Raging Hunt.


Other customs could be equally frightening. An ivy leaf submerged in water from the 31st December to the 5th of January foretold the future. If the leaf remained as fresh as it was when put in the water it foretold good health, if not it predicted the reverse.

Another custom was that of a girl, who wanted to get married, going to the hen house on Christmas Eve and rapping on the door. If the cockerel crowed the girl believed she would marry, but if a hen clucked she feared being a spinster for as long as she lived.





Saturday 22 December 2012

Two Medieval Christmas Games

Two Medieval Christmas Games




Hoodman Blind, or Blind Man’s Buff, was a popular game in times past. The blind man or woman’s eyes were covered by their hood, which was turned back to front. The object of the game was to catch another player, who then became the blind man or woman.

Later, presumably when hoods were no longer fashionable the blind man, woman or child’s eyes were covered by a scarf. The blindfolded person was turned round and round and then set free to catch someone and guess who it was.

Another popular game, the modern version of which is trying to catch an apple bobbing in water with the player’s teeth was Snap Dragon. Dried fruit floated in brandy which was set on fire. The players then snatched a currant or other fruit risking burnt fingers and burnt mouths. A second version was trying to take a bite out of an apple which was suspended on a string with a lighted candle without burning the face.

Thursday 20 December 2012

Christmas Game in Times Past

Christmas Game in Times Past


I remember playing Oranges and Lemons at Christmas parties. Adults sang the nursery rhyme while the children hurried to beneath an arch formed by two adults holding up their arms and holding hands.

“Oranges and lemons say the bells of St Clements,
You owe me five farthings say the bells of St Martins,
When will you pay be say the bells of Old Bailey,
When I grow rich say the bells of Shoreditch,
When will that be? say the bells of Stepney,
I do not know says the great bell of Bow,
Here comes a candle to light you to bed,
Here comes the chopper to chop off your head."

When the last line came close the children increased their speed in an attempt to avoid being caught when the adults lowered their arms to trap one of them. The child would be asked to choose oranges or lemons and then told which adult to stand behind. My memory fails. I can’t remember how the game ended.

In the mediaeval era there was a tug of war between those who chose oranges and those who chose lemons.

Wednesday 19 December 2012

Christmas - Lord of Misrule

Lord of Misrule


The custom of appointing a Lord of Misrule stemmed from ancient Rome. From the 17th to the 23rd of December his duty was to preside at the feast of Saturnalia, in the semblance of Saturn, the beneficial god. At that time masters served their slaves, and slaves became state officials. At that time, The Lord of Misrule was in authority and could order anyone to do anything.

The custom continued in the Christian era when the well-paid King of Misrule or Lord of Misrule officiated for many days at Christmas in the late medieval and early Tudor eras. He supervised Christmas celebrations at court, in noblemen’s houses, in the Inns of Court and at Oxford and Cambridge universities. During the festivities, he received homage from his court and was in charge of all the entertainment.

Eventually, the authorities put an end to the custom because, as time passed by the custom of having a Lord of Misrule degenerated into an excuse for rowdy behavior. Accompanied by a crowd playing musical instruments, and acting like mummers, he would march to church and interrupt the service.

Sunday 16 December 2012

Log Fires and Yule Logs

Log fires and Yule Logs


I’ve been trying to decide which of the recipes for a yule log which include eggs, can be converted to an egg free recipe. I haven’t decided, but thoughts of a ‘yule log’ brought images of a real one burning in the hearth.

The other evening, at my son and daughter-in-law’s house there was a wood fire in the grate. The flames, the warmth and the crackling wood brought pictures of the past to my mind.

The Druids blessed a ‘log’ the trunk or part of the trunk of a tree, and kept it burning throughout the winter solstice, which lasted 12 days, and kept part of it to light the following year’s Yule log.

In the northern lands of the Viking’s icy winter, warmth was essential. It was also necessary to placate Thor and greet the sun’s return after winter. The Yule log was the focus of their celebration the julfest. They carved runes on tree trunk which represented – for example – bad luck – that they wanted their gods and goddesses to take away. They also believed everyone who helped to bring in the Yule log would be protected from witches.

Druid or Viking, I can imagine families enjoying the fire with its light flickering over their faces, and children, cosy indoors, enjoying winter fare and listening to tales.

The Vikings, who doused the log with alcohol to make it burn, brought the custom to Britain, where with the passage of time, it was adopted by medieval Christians, to whom it represented the need to keep Jesus warm.

It was important to keep the log burning throughout the twelve days of Christmas, after which the ashes were gathered, and kept indoors to prevent lightening or fire breaking out.

Today, there are very few hearths large enough to fit a Yule log but there is nothing to prevent us choosing the largest log which will fit the fireplace and burning it in memory of the past.







Tradition of Christmas Kissing Bough

Christmas Kissing Bough


Now that I have researched the Kissing Bough I shall make one, if I have time.

In pagan times the kissing bough was a ball of holly and other evergreens beneath which hung mistletoe. It was probably linked to fertility rites the details which are lost in time.

However, once upon a time in Europe, to bless the household, a small treetop was hung upside down in the house to represent the Holy Trinity. However, it was not the custom in Britain, so from the 15th century onwards a Sacramental, a hoop or circle made of ash willow or hazel, was created, with either a model of the Christ Child or the Holy Family in the centre. Perhaps children helped to make it and looked forward to the priest blessing the bough before it was hung inside before the front door. Visitors indicated they brought good will by exchanging an embrace beneath the Holy Bough. As time passed by the bough became more elaborate, and was decorated with ribbons, gilded nuts and apples and candles.

In due course of time the Holy Bough or Holly Bough became known as the Kissing Bough due to the sprig of mistletoe suspended from it, which allowed any woman passing beneath it to be kissed.

If I have time, I want to make my own version of a kissing bough using an oasis ball decorated with holly and other greenery from my garden, red ribbon and ornaments. As I blogged yesterday I have no mistletoe so I shall call it a holly ball. If I don’t have time this year it is something I want to make next year along with a homemade wreath for my front door.









Medieval Christmas Miracle:The Holy Thorn of Glasonbury

Medieval Christmas Miracle:The Holy Thorn of Glastonbury


Most legends cannot be substantiated, but it has been recorded that the Holy Thorn blooms on the dot of midnight on old Christmas Eve, January 5th. (In 1752 Christmas was moved back to December 25th.)

The Thorn is regarded as holy because it is said that after Christ’s crucifixion, Joseph of Arimathea, the owner of the tomb where Jesus lay, was preaching in Britain and came to the Isle of Avalon. While he was there on Christmas Day he thrust his staff into the ground where it immediately took root and sprouted leaves and blossom. Inspired by the miracle, Joseph established a church on the Isle.


Over the years cuttings of the Holy Thorn have been taken. For example, the Puritans disapproved of Christmas and cut down the miraculous thorn tree and, more recently, it was cut down. Fortunately the cuttings have survived to bloom at midnight on old Christmas Eve, and for a branch in bud to be sent to the sovereign each Christmas.



Christmas Kissing Bough

Now that I have researched the Kissing Bough I shall make one, if I have time.

In pagan times the kissing bough was a ball of holly and other evergreens beneath which hung mistletoe. It was probably linked to fertility rites the details which are lost in time.

However, once upon a time in Europe, to bless the household, a small treetop was hung upside down in the house to represent the Holy Trinity. However, it was not the custom in Britain, so from the 15th century onwards a Sacramental, a hoop or circle made of ash willow or hazel, was created, with either a model of the Christ Child or the Holy Family in the centre. Perhaps children helped to make it and looked forward to the priest blessing the bough before it was hung inside before the front door. Visitors indicated they brought good will by exchanging an embrace beneath the Holy Bough. As time passed by the bough became more elaborate, and was decorated with ribbons, gilded nuts and apples and candles.

In due course of time the Holy Bough or Holly Bough became known as the Kissing Bough due to the sprig of mistletoe suspended from it, which allowed any woman passing beneath it to be kissed.

If I have time, I want to make my own version of a kissing bough using an oasis ball decorated with holly and other greenery from my garden, red ribbon and ornaments. As I blogged yesterday I have no mistletoe so I shall call it a holly ball. If I don’t have time this year it is something I want to make next year along with a homemade wreath for my front door.



Mistletoe, Christmas, Norse & Kisses

Mistletoe, Christmas, Norse Mythology & Kisses.


I have no fresh mistletoe to decorate my house, but hope to establish some on an apple tree in my organic garden. Of course, I could use artificial mistletoe but have decided not to.

There are many legends about this plant sacred to druids and the properties ascribed to it. However the source of kissing under the mistletoe seems to be the legend about the Norse goddess of love, Frigga, and her son Balder, the god of the summer sun. Balder told his mother he had dreamt of his death. Anxious because it would mean the end of life on earth in the way she knew it, and about the loss of her son, she asked every being in the five elements to promise not to hurt Balder. Unfortunately, Frigga forgot to ask mistletoe that grew on apple trees to make the promise and it came about that mistletoe caused Balder’s death and then brought him back to life. Frigga’s tears turned into white berries, which she blessed, saying that anyone who stood beneath mistletoe would be safe and had the right to a kiss which symbolised love. It seems that this legend is the source of the custom of kissing under the mistletoe, which became a tradition at Christmas. Possibly, Viking invaders introduced the legend, which 21st century people might consider quaint, but if I can grow some, I would like to decorate my house with mistletoe.



Wednesday 12 December 2012

Ivy at Christmas Past and Present

Ivy at Christmas Past and Present.


I have picked holly and ivy, arranged them in a vase, and decorated them with tiny parcels wrapped in gold paper tied with red ribbon and ornamented with stars.

Early Christians would not have brought ivy indoors because the Church associated it with the god of wine, Bacchus, who wore a wreath of ivy on his head, and whose female associates drank wine made from ivy. I did not feel guilty for picking ivy which, according to one belief, symbolises females because it clings, and according to another represents human need to cling to divine strength.

There are many legends about ivy, one was that a stem placed in a glass of wine would filter poison, and another was that ivy growing on the wall of a house deterred witches

Once upon a time, there were contradictory beliefs about ivy. She was either condemned to stand outside in winter’s cold or described as blessed and cherished. Also, because ivy grows profusely in graveyards, it was sometimes regarded as a symbol of death, so it was not surprising she was banned from the celebration of Christ’s birth, although, like other evergreens, she was believed to represent eternal life.

Eventually, the Church allowed ivy to be carved in stone and wood, but she was still condemned to remain outside in the cold, dark days of winter, but ivy cut from my garden, both plain green and variegated green and sunshine-yellow are welcome in my house.

Tuesday 11 December 2012

Holly or Christ's Thorn and Legend

Festive Holly or Christ’s Thorn and Legend


This year the holly bush in my garden has abundant scarlet berries which will glow against the green, prickly leaves in my house and connect it with the past because holly was used to decorate mediaeval houses in the dark days of midwinter. However, holly and other greenery were disapproved of by the church because of their connection to pagan customs. Druids decorated their huts with holly, ivy and mistletoe; Romans exchanged boughs and gifts during Satturnalia, which took place a week before Christmas.

Another name for holly is Christ’s Thorn. According to legend, when Christ walked on earth holly grew in his footsteps. Perhaps it was called holy tree not holly tree and the scarlet berries, which resemble drops of blood, are symbolic of Christ’s suffering.

Eventually, the Church accepted holly, the wood of which was thought to have been used for the cross on which Christ was crucified; and the leaves were believed to have been used in His crown of thorns. It was also claimed its white flowers symbolised the Virgin Mary’s Immaculate Conception and that its evergreen leaves represented life eternal.

There are many superstitions about holly, which was regarded as a man’s plant. Mediaeval people believed holly brings good luck, and that when it was planted outside their doors it protected them from thunderstorms.

So, when I bring holly into my house tomorrow I will be conscious of these and many more old beliefs, legends and superstitions.



Monday 10 December 2012

Christmas Trees, Druids and Saints

Christmas Trees, Druids ad Saints


Yesterday morning, my three year-old granddaughter and I decorated my Christmas tree. “Beautiful,” she said when the lights were turned on, “Beautiful,” she shouted with all the delightful enthusiasm of a small girl, when I draped the tree with tinsel garlands. And then she sang Jiggle Bells – her version of Jingle Bells while we put shiny decorations on the tree; and then she fell in love with the angel for the top of the tree. “I like it,” she told me when I put it in place.

After she went home I researched Christmas trees. I had always associated the first ones in England with Queen Victoria and Albert but, to my surprise, I discovered Christmas, or fir trees, were important in the seventh an eighth century.

Saint Wilfred, 634-709, cut down an oak tree sacred to pagan gods. After the oak split in half, a fir tree sprouted from the centre. The saint declared the fir was dedicated to Christ and that its evergreen branches represented eternal life. There is another story about another English saint, Boniface 680-754, who cut down an oak, the tree sacred to druids. When pagan gods neither took revenge nor protected the pagans for chopping down the oak, it helped the saint to convert people to Christianity.

In Germany, during the mediaeval era, the fir tree symbolised the Garden of Eden in mummers’ plays and, maybe, in England. However, it seems Christmas trees were not set up indoors at that period, but there is a picture dated 1521 (just after the mediaeval period) of a decorated fir being carried down a German street.

Today, artificial Christmas trees are available in pink, white, green and other colours but, although I have a large green, artificial tree for environmental reasons, nothing is superior to the fragrance of a real fir tree. Next year I might buy a small tree and plant it in the garden after Twelfth Night.





Sunday 9 December 2012

Christmas Fare Present and Mediaeval

Christmas Fare Present and Mediaeval


Today, those who wish to celebrate Christmas with special food have a much wider choice than their mediaeval ancestors. There would have been no potatoes roast or otherwise, no tomatoes and no turkey, for the lands which produced them were unknown in Europe.

My family and I are vegetarians, but on Christmas day we will enjoy a wide variety of festive food, including a vegetarian Christmas cake, Christmas pudding and mince pies.

Our main dish, a large vegetable and cheese pie will be served, brussel sprouts, carrots, parsnips, potatoes and other vegetables as well as gravy and sauce. On Boxing Day lunch will be accompanied by a large salad in which there will be avocado, olives and tomatoes as well as other ingredients - a very different menu to that served in mediaeval times.

Vegetables were not usually served with fish, fowl and meat. As well as fruit they were used to make sauce or incorporated in pottage – which – I think - was a cross between a kind of thick, nourishing soup and a stew. Apart from the boar’s head, which I wrote of in an earlier post, at Christmas, bacon, beef or ham might be served and, maybe, swan or goose. On noblemen’s estates the peasants would partake of communal meals and – if they were lucky - drink Christmas Wassail, a spiced, sweetened mixture of ale and cider.

Frumenty, sometimes called plum porridge, wheat boiled in milk to which eggs, spices and later, when they were available, dried fruit was added. Eventually, the frumenty was tied in a cloth and boiled thus making an ancestor of the Christmas pudding. Then, as now, I suspect rich fruit cakes were relished, particularly the twelfth night cake.

Mince pies are traditional Christmas fare but the one eaten by our ancestors were very different to modern ones. The filling of minced meats made from leftover scraps bound with suet was put in layers in a large pastry case between fruit and spice. Sometimes it was Christmas Fare Present and Mediaeval

Today, those who wish to celebrate Christmas with special food have a much wider choice than their mediaeval ancestors. There would have been no potatoes roast or otherwise, no tomatoes and no turkey, for the lands which produced them were unknown in Europe.

My family and I are vegetarians, but on Christmas day we will enjoy a wide variety of festive food, including a vegetarian Christmas cake, Christmas pudding and mince pies.

Our main dish, a large vegetable and cheese pie will be served, brussel sprouts, carrots, parsnips, potatoes and other vegetables as well as gravy and sauce. On Boxing Day lunch will be accompanied by a large salad in which there will be avocado, olives and tomatoes as well as other ingredients - a very different menu to that served in mediaeval times.

Vegetables were not usually served with fish, fowl and meat. As well as fruit they were used to make sauce or incorporated in pottage – which – I think - was a cross between a kind of thick, nourishing soup and a stew. Apart from the boar’s head, which I wrote of in an earlier post, at Christmas, bacon, beef or ham might be served and, maybe, swan or goose. On noblemen’s estates the peasants would partake of communal meals and – if they were lucky - drink Christmas Wassail, a spiced, sweetened mixture of ale and cider.

Frumenty, sometimes called plum porridge, wheat boiled in milk to which eggs, spices and later, when they were available, dried fruit was added. Eventually, the frumenty was tied in a cloth and boiled thus making an ancestor of the Christmas pudding. Then, as now, I suspect rich fruit cakes were relished, particularly the twelfth night cake.

Mince pies are traditional Christmas fare but the one eaten by our ancestors were very different to those made today. The filling of minced meats made from leftover scraps bound with suet was put in layers in a large pastry case between fruit and spice. Sometimes it was left open; sometimes it was covered with a pastry lid topped with a carefully shaped infant Jesus modelled in pastry. A charming tradition was to give the first helping to the youngest child at the feast, who could make a wish when he or she took the first bite.



Friday 7 December 2012

Nativity Carols Mediaeval and Modern

Nativity Carols




Some mediaeval carols written in the 15th century query how a humble girl would react if an angel appeared. Such nativity carols would have helped ordinary people to understand that, like them, Mary had been a real person.



However the Magi were far removed from the experience of common folk. The three kings, frequently called Caspar, Melchior and Balthazar, who had travelled far from home, perhaps as far away as India, bringing exotic gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh, must have seemed extraordinary.

I enjoy the popular carol We Three Kings Orient Are, written in 1857 by Reverend John Henry Hopkins, the first verse of which is:

"We three kings of Orient are
Bearing gifts we traverse afar
Field and fountain, moor and mountain
Following yonder star."

I have no doubt that mediaeval men, women and children of high and low degree enjoyed carols which celebrate the Adoration of the infant Jesus by the Magi, the first verse of one of which was:

"A sterre shone bright on Twelfte Day,
Ouer that place where Jhesus lay.

On Twelfte Day this sterre so clere,
Brought kinges in oute of the eest,

Vnto that King that hath no pere,
In Bethleem Jude where he did rest,
This steere that day tho went away,
From that swete place where Jesus lay.
In an age when most people were illiterate such a carol was both enjoyable and instructive."

I’ve just shared this article with my six year-old granddaughter, who is starring in her school play ‘Little Angel Gets Her Wings’. She has shared the part in the play about the three kings, and sung a carol about them. So, today, children ike my granddaughter share the same joy and wonder as children in times past.

Carols, Vegetarian, Boar's Head

Carols and The Boar’s Head




I am a vegetarian, so some aspects of historical research make me squeamish, but not so squeamish that I do not delve into the past.



Swine were sacred to the Vikings who sacrificed a boar to their god Frey. Decorated with garlands, an apple in its mouth, the boar’s head was served by the Norseman.

The Britons and Anglo Saxons sacrificed animals, usually oxen, so in spite of the pagan origins it was not long before the tradition of serving a boar’s head became a custom at Christmas.

At Queen’s College Oxford, a boar’s head was served on the last Saturday before Christmas accompanied by a secular carol, which began:

“The boar’s head in hand bear I,
Bedecked with bays and rosemary;
And I pray you my masters be merry;
…”

Today, a turkey is as important a part of the Christmas meal as the boar’s head was to pagans and mediaeval Christians. However, as a vegetarian, my sympathy is with the slaughtered boars and turkeys. Perhaps I should find time to write a carol in praise of a vegetarian feast.





Thursday 6 December 2012

School Carol Service, Mediaeval and Pagan Carols

I enjoyed the carol service held at a Roman Catholic Church with a choir composed of two streams of sixty Year Three children amongst whom was my grandson, who sang joyfully.

At the beginning some of the children were on the stage and others, carrying candles preceded down the aisle, all the children singing the Military Wives carol, Stronger Together. Neither Stronger Together nor some mediaeval carols sung at Christmas time are nativity carols.

Some pagan carols had vestiges of heathen beliefs and others centred on the world around our forebears and nature. For example, the opening couplets of a carol about the holly and the ivy are:

"Nay,luy,nay,hyt shal not be iwys,
Let Holy hafe the maystry, as the manner ys (is).

Holy stond (stand) in the hall, fayre to behold;
Iuy stond without the dore; she ys ful sore a cold.

Holy and hys merry men, thy dawsyn and they syng;
Iuy and her maydeyns, they wepyn and they wryng (their hands)."

Carols such as this one were not intended to be sung in church but by ordinary people and the mummers who travelled from place to place.

However, the word picture of the holly and the ivy puts me in mind of one of my favourite carols, The Holly and the Ivy, the imagery of which I have enjoyed since childhood.

Yesterday, the Year Three choir sang the traditional favourites, Once in Royal David’s City, Away in a Manger and O Come All Ye Faithful. The children also sang nativity carols I am less familiar with, including a version of Unto Us A Child is Born, which I had not heard before, Midnight, Starry Night, and The Gift.

Finally there was a Carol called Turn Down The Lights about the night before Christmas the first verse of which is:

"Turn down the lights and watch the fire glowing,
Colours turn bright and warm.
Now is the time for waiting and knowing,
Christmas will come with the dawn."

As the seven year olds, dressed in their blue and grey uniforms sang, in my mind’s eye I saw seven year olds, garbed in old fashioned clothes, eyes shining by fire and candlelight, who were excited by the coming of the Christ Child and the festivities they looked forward to. The link between modern day children and those in times past touched my heart.





Wednesday 5 December 2012

Christmas Carols and the Crib

Christmas Carols and the Crib.


This evening my grandson will sing with his school choir in church. I’m not sure which Christmas carols will be sung but I am sure I shall enjoy them as much as Christians did in the mediaeval era.

The sight of the crib will move me as much as it did when I was a small girl, although the figure of the new-born Christ child will not be added until Christmas morning, something the children will look forward too.

As a child I did not know that St Francis of Assisi -1181-1226 -, who I admire, was the first person to display a crib, and a barn with Mary and Joseph, Shepherds and the Three Wise Men as well as animals; and I did not know he introduced Christmas carols in vernacular which ordinary people could understand. (Previously, Christ’s birth was celebrated with hymns sung in Latin.) Some of the carols were sung around the nativity scene, some included dances.

The carols composed by St Francis and members of the order he founded fulfilled their purpose, that of reminding peasants about the teachings of Christ. St Francis’ carols became known in Spain, France and Germany, and in 1224 arrived in England. The first known English carol, ‘A Child is Boren Amonges Man’ was found in notes on a sermon penned by a Franciscan friar. Subsequently, Englishmen composed nativity carols, one of the earliest of which begins with the charming words – I saw a swete seemly sight, A blissful byred, a blossom bright, That murnyng made mirth of mange (among) A mayden moder, mek and myld.” This is not a carol I will hear this evening, but I know I shall enjoy the service and while listening, be aware of those who came before me to celebrate the coming of the Christ Child.

Tuesday 4 December 2012

Christmas Plays

Christmas Plays




Since I was a small child Christmas festivities have delighted me as much as they probably delighted children in the Mediaeval Age.

I can visualise excited children out and about watching mummers prancing in the streets wearing animal masks, possibly singing carols and, like modern day carol singers, visiting houses to receive money and food.

Other mummers performed different types of plays in which good battled evil. First of all the hero, maybe St George, recited the prologue in which the main characters were introduced and the villain,maybe the dragon, is challenged. I can imagine children cheering St George and booing the dragon while the saint tackles the mythical beast, or the Turkish Knight, with a sword. Sometimes the hero is killed after which the doctor takes the stage with medicine to miraculously restore the dead to life; and then other characters who have no connection to the plot appear, including Beelzebub, who, I think I am safe to say made naughty children tremble.

Another popular theme was one with the theme of a love triangle which features a Dame, maybe an antecedent of today’s pantomime dame.

Sunday 2 December 2012

Christmas Performers Past and Present

Christmas Performers




Today, those of us who enjoy the Christmas season are spoilt for choice. There are pantomimes, spectaculars on ice, ballet, plays on stage and screen, carol services and t.v. programmes. I take my metaphorical hat off to all the modern day talented amateur and professional performers and to the mummers of old.

In pagan times mummers were street performers, who wore masks to hide their identities. They performed in mid-winter enacting the sun’s death in winter and rebirth in spring. By the Middle Ages mummers performed at Christmas. In my mind’s eye I see excited children squealing in fright at the sight of Beelzebub, welcoming Old Man Winter (Father Christmas) and cheering St George when he killed the dragon or, after the crusades, the Turkish knight.

Sometimes, a play was not the theme of mumming (disguising). Edward III enjoyed mumming games which the participants wore masks of, to name a few, women, angels, dragons and swans. In January 1377, to music played on a variety of instruments, over a hundred Londoners rode to Kennington where Prince Richard was staying with his mother. Upon their arrival the mummers wagered a gold cup which the prince won with loaded dice. After three wagers the mummers distributed gold rings, the feast commenced and the prince and his courtiers joined in a dance with the mummers. Richard was a prince probably aware of his own consequence but I hope he joined in the festivities with childish enthusiasm.

Friday 30 November 2012

School Plays, Pantomimes and Mystery Plays

It's that time of the year again when innumerable excited children rehearse for the Christmas Play and look forward to attending a pantomime or some other performance. In times past equally excited children must have looked forward to mystery plays originally performed throughout the year in churchyards. However, in the dark cold winter the story of the Christ Child's advent must have been a colourful highlight of the year. Later, awestruck children must have watched among other things the shepherds and three wise men visiting the new born babe on a pageant, a wagon with two stages and special scenery. Whether the mummers performed at mansions, inns or in the streets the audience needed their strength for some plays began at 4.30 a.m. and did not finish until dusk.

Christmas Past and Present

My seven year old grandson's main Christmas present will be a toy castle. I went to Toys R Us today and found toy mounted knights and a dragon reduced in price from £8 to £4 each, so I bought half a dozen for for him.


The toy knights seated on their destriers and equipped with weapon evoked images of mediaeval Christmas celebrations.

Modern Christmas festivities did not originate in the Victoria...n era. Many preparations were made to celebrate the period which, due to numerous saints' days lasted longer than it does today. The dates of the pagan festivals became Christian dates, and to remember the birth of the Christ Child Christmas people celebrated. In those days most of them would have gone to Church, exchanged presents, and enjoyed special food and drink as well as making music. In days when when people relied on candlelight Christmas must have been eagerly anticipated in the cold, dark winter, and as they do today children probably hoped for snow.

Monday 26 November 2012

No problem

Yesterday, I thought I would have a nervous breakdown because my research was at fault. Thank goodness, the research was correct but I had entered a wrong year at the head of a chapter and then entered the wrong year at the head of several chapters. Only typos which were easy to correct.

Sunday 25 November 2012

Cure or Not

I have four more doses of antibiotics to take, the cough is getting better, but  antibiotics have made me very uncomfortable in spite of taking live yoghurt to encourage good bacteria.

I'm glad to announce that I finished the last, very short chapter, of my mediaeval novel, but realised I need to check some dates and places, so it's back to check in The Fourteenth Century 1307-1399/The Oxford History of England/McKissack. When I have done that, I shall work on the line edits and then write the synopsis and my c.v. before sending the novel to a publisher I have in mind.

Saturday 24 November 2012

Dream World

Before I attended the Festival of Romance I was taking antibiotics. After I returned I was unwell and consulted my doctor, with the result that I am now taking very strong antibiotics. However, whether as a result of them or not I experience an amazing dream last night. As a rule I don't remember more than snatches of my dreams but I remember the emotion, the event and the glorious technicolour of this one.

For a long time I have been toying with the idea for writing a children's fantasy novel but couldn't imagine a portal into another world. Well, I experienced the portal. In my dream I passed through it into a parallel world.

Whether or not I will have time to write the novel is questionable, but I shall try because the concept intrigues me.

Thursday 22 November 2012

My Mediaeval Novel

Years ago I had the idea for the novel, and its sequels, mainly set in England in the reign of Edward II. First I created character profiles, then, while researching the era, I wrote a paragraph here and a paragraph there. At that time I had the imagination to write a novel but not the know how. Now, at long last, I should complete the final revision in the next two or three days.  Then I will complete a line edit and, after I write a c.v. and a synopsis I shall submit it to a publisher. Fingers crossed, one day, the book will be published.

Wednesday 21 November 2012

Near Disaster

We are so fortunate. My daughter-in-law phoned to tell me their bedroom ceiling collapsed on their bed. Fortunately, a strange noise woke them up and they quit the bedroom before the ceiling fell. If they had not the alternative is unbearable to think of.

Tuesday 20 November 2012

The Festival of Romance

I've returned from The Festival of Romance. I congratulate Kate Allan who organised it. Altough I was short listed my novel Tangled Love did not win the award, but I'm pleased to have been on that list. I met lots of interesting people and made some contacts which might be useful.

Thursday 15 November 2012

Retail Therapy

Finding something to wear at The Romantic Festival's gala ball has been more a case of stressful shopping than retail therapy, but, today, my daughter-in-law and I had an enjoyable morning catching up over a coffee, and browsing in the shops. I bought three tops, a brown handbag and a copy of Mallory's Morte d'Arthur, which I know I'm going to enjoy.

Wednesday 14 November 2012

In Memory of Children

Yesterday, I visited the library. Outside, on a patch of immaculate grass, I noticed a brass plaque and several wreaths of artificial poppies. Curious, I approached it. On the plaque are inscribed words in memory of Anne Frank; the dedication is to children who lost their lives during the 2nd World War. The blood red poppies with black centres and the peaceful green grass area dedicated to Anne and legions of voiceless children brought the horror of the past closer. iI don't know who laid the wreaths but am glad those helpless victims are not forgotten.


Tuesday 13 November 2012

Rosemary Morris' Novel Short Listed

I am delighted to announce that my novel, Tangled Love, set in Queen Anne's reign, 1714-1714. The results will be announced on the 17th November at the Romance of Festival's gala ball in Bedford.


Tangled Love is available from:

https://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/

Amazon Kindle and elsewhere

Manuscript Evening at Watford Writers

I attended Watford Writers yesterday evening. Once again I was impressed by the talented members of the group who read their work - among other work shared with the group was a moving poem, which asked who would remember two young soldiers who gave up their lives when the author was dead, the first chapter of a lyrical fantasy novel, a sensitive short story about a lonely woman and part of a modern rendition of Sleeping Beauty. I read part of an exciting chapter from my mediaeval novel set in Edward II's reign, which was very well received.

Monday 12 November 2012

Dcluttering

I never have enough bookcases. Every once in a while I have to be ruthless. Recently, I've been ill. Thanks to antibiotics I'm on the mend. And while I'm on the mend I have reorganised my bookcases. I have arranged my non-fiction books in historical order, others according to subject, and fiction in alphabetical order according to the author's name. Not without a few regrets I am disposing of every book I will never refer to or read again. Now I need to decide which magazines I want to keep and declutter my filing cabinet.


Somehow or other when I finish decluttering, whether it is my bookcases, my workspace or, for example, my clothes, the house always seems uplifted. I should find time to do it more regularly.

Sunday 11 November 2012

Example of the Cockney Spirit in World War II

Today is Remembrance Sunday. As usual, I am thinking of my father. When young he suffered from tuberculosis and, therefore, his applications to join the armed forces in the Second World War were rejected. Determined to ‘do his bit’ for king and country he joined the fire service.


One morning on his way back to the fire station after the East End was cruelly bombed, a little old lady flagged down the fire engine he drove.

“Get yer ladders out,” she said pointing to the upper storey of her house, the front of which had been blown away. “Look lively. Me best ’at’s up there on top of me wardrobe, an’ Mister ‘itler ain’t going to ‘ave it.”

Father retrieved the hat. “No one,” Father said, after he told me the story, “thought we would lose the war, and that little old lady, who had lost nearly everything, represents the spirit of the times.”

Saturday 10 November 2012

Lord George Byron

I am reading a 1943 edition of Britain against Napoleon by Caroloa Oman for which: The author desires to record her most grateful thanks to the maker of the Index - Georgette Heyer.


The opening paragraph is: "A country correspondent wrote from the south of England that filberts were in bloom, and under a shelered bank he had found primroses, though ragged and beaten by the weather. The throstle had sung a little at differenttimes."

Carola Oman, daughter of historian Carol Oman, know her history, which she intersperses with annecdotes and sippets. For example: "A short, stout lady, seated to an unappeteizing meal with a pale child, in lodgings close to the Marischal College (Aberdeen), had no need to invest in fresh black (to mourn Louis VIII) Mrs John Byron, whose temper was the terror of her landlady, already wore widow's weeds.

".... Her sole interest nowadays was her son....She had a taste for books. George Gordon the child seated opposite her in a by-street of the Granite City on this gloomy winter's afternoon, had been so christened in memory of his maternal gandfather, a descendant of the poet King James I of Scotland.

"If Mr Pitt was to declare in the House of Commons on Tuesday that Britain was at war with France....even if the war went on for years, it could not hurt Mrs Byron, her only son could never go to a war, because he was a cripple." His right foot and leg were contracted by infant paralysis.

Tuesday 6 November 2012

"Kiss of Youth and Love."

Their lips drew near, and clung into a kiss;


A long, long kiss, a kiss of youth, and love,

And beauty, all concentrating like rays

Into one focus, kindled them above;

Such kisses as belong to early days

Where heart and soul, and sense in concert move,

And the blood’s lava, and the pulse a blaze,

Each kiss a heart-quake – for a kiss’s strength,

I think, it must be reckoned by its length.



Lord George Byron

Poet 1788 - 1824

A Kiss - Courtesy of Lord George Byron

When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past –


For years flee away with the wings of the dove –

The dearest remembrance will still be the last,

Our sweetest memory the first kiss of love.



Lord George Byron

Poet 1788 - 1824



Sunday 4 November 2012

Tangled Love has been shortlisted

I am delighted because Tangled Love, set in Queen Anne Stuart's reign, has been shortlisted by the Festival of Romance to be held soon in Bedford.

More Kisses and Romance

Was this the face that launched a thousand ships,


And burnt the topless towers of Ilium?

Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss!

Her lips suck forth my soul; see where it flies!

Come, Helen, come, give me my soul again.

Here will I dwell, for heaven is in those lips,

And all is dross that is not Helena.



Christopher Marlow

Playwright and poet 1664 - 1693

Saturday 3 November 2012

Kisses - An Invitation to the Feast

Thomas died at the age of thirty. I wonder what he would have expressed in prose and poetry if he had lived longer.




Are kisses all? – they but forerun
Another duty to be done:
What would you of that minstrel say,
Who tunes his pipe, and will not play?
Say, what are blossoms in their prime
That ripen not in harvest time?
Oh what are buds that ne’er disclose
The longed for sweetness of the rose?
So kisses to a lover’s guest
Are invitations not the feast.

Thomas Randolph
Poet and playwright 1605 - 1635

Friday 2 November 2012

Commonplace Diary - Romance and Kisses

I have not made entries in it so much, looking for quotes about romance and kisses, that I am neglecting the revision of my mediaeval novel.


Among thy fancies tell me this,
What is the thing we call a kiss?’’’
It is a creature born and bred
Between the lips all cherry red,
By love and warm desires fed.

Robert Herrick
Poet and Clergyman 1591 - 1674

Thursday 1 November 2012

More Romance and Kisses


My sweet did sweetly sleep

And on her rosy face
Stood tears of pearl, which beauty’s self did weep;
I, wondering at her grace,
Did all amazed remain,
When Love said, “Fool can looks they wishes crown?
Times past comes no again.’
The did I bow me down,
And kissing her fair breast, lips cheeks and eyes,
Proved here on earth the joys of paradise.

William Drummond of Hawthornden
Poet 1585 - 1649


Wednesday 31 October 2012

Today's Romance and Kisses

Oh that joy so soon should waste!

Or so sweet a bliss
As a kiss
Might not for ever last!
So sugared, so melting, so soft, so delicious,
The dew that lies on roses,
When the morn itself discloses,
Is not so precious.
Or rather than I would it smother,
Were I to taste such another,
It should be my wishing,
That I should die kissing.



Ben Johnson
Playwright and poet 1572 – 1637

Tuesday 30 October 2012

Romance and Kisses

I'm sharing some of the verses I find inspirational.



I am sharing some of the verses I have collected - hope you are enjoying them - they bring many images to my mind.
For love’s sake kiss me once again;

I long and should not beg in vain –

Here’s none to spy or see:

Why do you doubt or stay?

I’ll taste as lightly as the bee

That doth but touch his flower, and flies away.



Ben Johnson

Playwright and poet 1572 - 1637

Saturday 27 October 2012

Last Kiss

Last kiss.




Since there’s no help, come let us kiss and part;

Nay, I have done, you get no more of me,


And I am glad, yea with all my heart

That thus so cleanly I myself can free.

Shake hands forever, cancel all our vows

And, when we meet at any time again,

Be it not seen in either of our brows

That we not one jot of former love retain.

Now at the last gasp of Love’s latest breath,

When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies,

When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death,

And Innocence is closing up his eyes,

Now if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,

From death to life, thou might’st him yet recover.



Michael Drayton

Poet 1563 - 1631

Kisses and Henry VIII

Kisses and Henry VIII




“No more to you at this present, mine own darling, for lack of time. But I would that you were in my arms, or I in yours – for I think it long since I kissed you.



Henry VIII to Anne Boleyn. 1528

Thursday 25 October 2012

Kisses and Romance






To celebrate the publication of my new mystry/romance novel False Pretences I’m quoting Flavius.

“Drink to me with thine eyes only; or if thou wilt, putting the cup to my lips, fill it with kisses, and so bestow it upon me. I, as soon as I behold me, thirst; and, taking hold of the cup, do not apply that to my lips but thee.”

Flavius Philostratus

Orator and Author c..170 – c.244





False Pretences by Rosemary Morris - Chapter One

False Pretences

By

Rosemary Morris

Chapter One

1815

“I have good news for you, Annabelle,” said Miss Chalfont, the well-educated head mistress and owner of The Beeches, an exclusive school for young ladies.

Seated on a straight-backed chair opposite Miss Chalfont’s walnut desk, Annabelle clasped her hands tightly on her lap. “Has my guardian told you who my parents are?” she asked in a voice quivering with excitement.

Regret flickered across Miss Chalfont’s face before she shook her head. “No, I am very sorry, he has not. For your sake I wish he had. In fact, I do not know who he is. I receive instructions from a lawyer in Dover. To be honest, for no particular reason, I have always assumed your guardian’s identity is that of a man, but it could be that of a woman.”

Dover! Annabelle thought. The town where she had lived with her nurse before a nameless elegant lady, with a French accent, brought her to The Beeches. Time and time again she had wondered if the lady was her guardian or whether she was a stranger ordered to bring her here. She had no way of knowing, for the lady had not answered any of her questions. Annabelle looked into Miss Chalfont’s eyes. “Who is the lawyer, ma’am?”

“I do not know for he does not identify himself. He merely arranges for your…er…upkeep, and sends me your guardian’s instructions.” No clue to the mystery of my own identity, Annabelle thought and gazed down to conceal

her disappointment. “Has the lawyer given you permission to tell me who my guardian is?” she asked, despite her suspicion that he had not. Miss Chalfont looked down at a letter. “No, your guardian, whom I have no doubt has your welfare at heart, still wishes to remain anonymous. But, my dear child, you are fortunate. Your guardian has arranged for you to marry Monsieur le Baron de Beauchamp.”

Annabelle looked up with a mixture of astonishment, disbelief, and intense indignation at the arrangement that took no heed of her wishes. “I am to marry a man I have never met?”

With restless fingers, Miss Chalfont adjusted her frilled mobcap. “Yes, your guardian has arranged for you to marry Monsieur le Baron tomorrow.”

Annabelle stared at her kind teacher as though she had turned into a monster. “Mon dieu!” she raged, reverting to the French she spoke when she was a small child. “My God! Tomorrow? My guardian expects me to marry a Frenchman tomorrow? Miss Chalfont, surely you do not approve of such haste.”

“Do not take the Lord’s name in vain.” Miss Chalfont tapped her fingers on her desk. “My approval or disapproval is of no consequence. Your guardian wishes you to marry immediately so there is little more to be said. A special licence has been procured and the vicar has been informed.” Miss Chalfont smiled at her. “You have nothing to fear. This letter informs me that Monsieur speaks English and lives in this country.”

Annabelle scowled. Her hands trembled. For the first time, she defied her head mistress. “Nothing to fear? My life is to be put in the hands of a husband with the right to…beat me…or… starve me, and you say I have nothing to fear, Miss Chalfont? Please believe me when I say that nothing will persuade me to marry in such haste.”

Not the least display of emotion crossed the head teacher’s face. “You should not allow your imagination to agitate your sensibilities. For all you know, the monsieur is charming and will be a good, kind husband.”

“On the other hand, he might be a monster,” Annabelle said.

Miss Chalfont ignored the interruption and continued. “At eighteen, you are the oldest girl in the school. It is time for you to leave the nest and establish one of your own.”

“Twaddle,” Annabelle muttered. “My education is almost complete and I suspect you wish to be rid of me.”

Miss Chalfont smoothed the skirt of her steel-grey woollen gown and looked at Annabelle with a cold expression in her eyes. “I beg your pardon? Did I hear you say twaddle? As for wishing to be rid of you child, that is not true. However, I will admit that in recent months I have worried about your guardian’s future plans for you. But I need not have worried. As a happy bride, I daresay you will go to London where those pretty blue eyes and long lashes of yours will be so much admired that Monsieur le Baron will be proud of you.”

At any other time Miss Chalfont’s rare compliment would have pleased her. On this occasion it only served to increase the fury she tried to conceal. Losing her temper would be pointless. Before Annabelle spoke, she took a deep breath to calm herself. “It is unreasonable to order me to marry the man without allowing me time to become acquainted with him.”

“Do not refer to your bridegroom as the man. I have told you his name is de Beauchamp.”

Rebellion flamed in Annabelle’s stomach. “What do you know of my…er...bridegroom-tobe, ma’am?”

Miss Chalfont looked down at the letter. “He is described as a handsome gentleman of mature years.”

“One would think the description is of a piece of mature cheese or a bottle of vintage wine.”

Miss Chalfont frowned. “Do not be impertinent, Annabelle, you are not too old to be punished.”

“I beg your pardon, ma’am, but please tell me how mature he is,” Annabelle said, her eyes wide open and her entire body taut with apprehension.

“Monsieur le Baron is some forty-years-old.”

“How mature?” Annabelle persisted with her usual bluntness.

“He is forty-two-years-old.”

Annabelle stood, bent forward, and drummed her fingers on the edge of the desk. “Please be kind enough to inform my guardian that I will not play Guinevere to an aging Arthur. I would prefer to build my nest with a young Lancelot.”

Miss Chalfont’s shoulders heaved as though she was trying not to laugh. “Regardless of your preference, you must marry according to your guardian’s wish.”

“Dear ma’am, you and your mother have always been kind to me. I cannot believe you approve of—”

“As I have already said, my approval or disapproval is of no importance. Your duty is to obey.” Annabelle’s anger boiled and she felt somewhat sick in the stomach. Now that she was old enough to leave the seminary, it seemed that unless she refused to co-operate, she really would be disposed of without the slightest consideration for her personal wishes. Simultaneously afraid to obey her guardian and furious because not even Miss Chalfont seemed to care about her dilemma, Annabelle straightened up. She looked around the cosy parlour, with its thick oriental rugs, pretty figurines on the mantelpiece, and a number of gilt-framed pictures on the wall, one of which she had painted. “I will consider the marriage.” Annabelle looked down again, in case rebellion revealed itself on her face. But she had not lied. She would consider the marriage proposal, but not in the manner Miss Chalfont expected, for she would find a way to reject the elderly baron.

Miss Chalfont stood, walked round her desk, and patted Annabelle’s shoulder before resting her hand on it. “My dear child, there is little for you to consider. I dread to think of the consequences if you disobey your guardian. You could be cast penniless from here with only the clothes on your back. After all, your guardian does have complete power over you.”

Annabelle wanted to jerk away from her uncaring teacher’s hand but forced herself to remain passive. She did not want the woman to suspect the nature of her rebellious thoughts and have her closely watched. Inwardly, she seethed and decided that whatever the cost, she would escape the fate in store for her. An image of her former nurse, with whom she corresponded, flashed through her mind. With it came a sense of security and purpose.

http://tinyurl.com/8fwzcxx

www.rosemarymorris.co.uk



Tuesday 23 October 2012

Monday 22 October 2012

Back Cover False Pretences by Rosemary Morris

England 1815

Five-year-old Annabelle arrived at boarding school fluent in French and English. Separated from her nurse, a dismal shadow blights Annabelle’s life because she does not know who her parents are.


High-spirited Annabelle is financially dependent on her unknown guardian. She refuses to marry a French baron more than twice her age.

Her life in danger, Annabelle is saved by a gentleman, who says he will help her to discover her identity. Yet, from then on nothing is as it seems, and she is forced to run away for the second time to protect her rescuer.

Even more determined to discover her parents’ identity, in spite of many false pretences, Annabelle must learn who to trust. Her attempts to unravel the mystery of her birth, lead to further danger, despair, unbearable heartache and even more false pretences until the only person who has ever wanted to cherish her, reveals the startling truth, and all’s well that ends well.

Friday 19 October 2012

False Pretences by Rosemary Morris

I am delighted to announce the publication of my novel False Pretences on the 27th October.

Annabelle runs away from school into the arms of a charismatic gentleman…but can she trust him to help her to find out who her parents are?

There is a pre-order discount of 20% from: https://museituppublishing.com/bookstore2/

False Pretences Chapter One

Chapter One




1815



“I have good news for you, Annabelle,” said Miss Chalfont, the well-educated head mistress

and owner of The Beeches, an exclusive school for young ladies.



Seated on a straight-backed chair opposite Miss Chalfont’s walnut desk, Annabelle clasped

her hands tightly on her lap. “Has my guardian told you who my parents are?” she asked in a

voice quivering with excitement.



Regret flickered across Miss Chalfont’s face before she shook her head. “No, I am very

sorry, he has not. For your sake I wish he had. In fact, I do not know who he is. I receive

instructions from a lawyer in Dover. To be honest, for no particular reason, I have always

assumed your guardian’s identity is that of a man, but it could be that of a woman.”



Dover! Annabelle thought. The town where she had lived with her nurse before a nameless

elegant lady, with a French accent, brought her to The Beeches. Time and time again she had

wondered if the lady was her guardian or whether she was a stranger ordered to bring her here.

She had no way of knowing, for the lady had not answered any of her questions.



Annabelle looked into Miss Chalfont’s eyes. “Who is the lawyer, ma’am?”



“I do not know for he does not identify himself. He merely arranges for your…er…upkeep,

and sends me your guardian’s instructions.”



No clue to the mystery of my own identity, Annabelle thought and gazed down to conceal

her disappointment. “Has the lawyer given you permission to tell me who my guardian is?” she

asked, despite her suspicion that he had not.



Miss Chalfont looked down at a letter. “No, your guardian, whom I have no doubt has your

welfare at heart, still wishes to remain anonymous. But, my dear child, you are fortunate. Your

guardian has arranged for you to marry Monsieur le Baron de Beauchamp.”



Annabelle looked up with a mixture of astonishment, disbelief, and intense indignation at

the arrangement that took no heed of her wishes. “I am to marry a man I have never met?”



With restless fingers, Miss Chalfont adjusted her frilled mobcap. “Yes, your guardian has

arranged for you to marry Monsieur le Baron tomorrow.”



Annabelle stared at her kind teacher as though she had turned into a monster. “Mon dieu!”





she raged, reverting to the French she spoke when she was a small child. “My God! Tomorrow?

My guardian expects me to marry a Frenchman tomorrow? Miss Chalfont, surely you do not

approve of such haste.”



“Do not take the Lord’s name in vain.” Miss Chalfont tapped her fingers on her desk. “My

approval or disapproval is of no consequence. Your guardian wishes you to marry immediately

so there is little more to be said. A special licence has been procured and the vicar has been

informed.” Miss Chalfont smiled at her. “You have nothing to fear. This letter informs me that

Monsieur speaks English and lives in this country.”



Annabelle scowled. Her hands trembled. For the first time, she defied her head mistress.

“Nothing to fear? My life is to be put in the hands of a husband with the right to…beat me…or…

starve me, and you say I have nothing to fear, Miss Chalfont? Please believe me when I say that

nothing will persuade me to marry in such haste.”



Not the least display of emotion crossed the head teacher’s face. “You should not allow your

imagination to agitate your sensibilities. For all you know, the monsieur is charming and will be

a good, kind husband.”



“On the other hand, he might be a monster,” Annabelle said.



Miss Chalfont ignored the interruption and continued. “At eighteen, you are the oldest girl in

the school. It is time for you to leave the nest and establish one of your own.”



“Twaddle,” Annabelle muttered. “My education is almost complete and I suspect you wish

to be rid of me.”



Miss Chalfont smoothed the skirt of her steel-grey woollen gown and looked at Annabelle

with a cold expression in her eyes. “I beg your pardon? Did I hear you say twaddle? As for

wishing to be rid of you child, that is not true. However, I will admit that in recent months I have

worried about your guardian’s future plans for you. But I need not have worried. As a happy

bride, I daresay you will go to London where those pretty blue eyes and long lashes of yours will

be so much admired that Monsieur le Baron will be proud of you.”



At any other time Miss Chalfont’s rare compliment would have pleased her. On this

occasion it only served to increase the fury she tried to conceal. Losing her temper would be

pointless. Before Annabelle spoke, she took a deep breath to calm herself. “It is unreasonable to

order me to marry the man without allowing me time to become acquainted with him.”



“Do not refer to your bridegroom as the man. I have told you his name is de Beauchamp.”





Rebellion flamed in Annabelle’s stomach. “What do you know of my…er...bridegroom-tobe, ma’am?”



Miss Chalfont looked down at the letter. “He is described as a handsome gentleman of

mature years.”



“One would think the description is of a piece of mature cheese or a bottle of vintage wine.”



Miss Chalfont frowned. “Do not be impertinent, Annabelle, you are not too old to be

punished.”



“I beg your pardon, ma’am, but please tell me how mature he is,” Annabelle said, her eyes

wide open and her entire body taut with apprehension.



“Monsieur le Baron is some forty-years-old.”



“How mature?” Annabelle persisted with her usual bluntness.



“He is forty-two-years-old.”



Annabelle stood, bent forward, and drummed her fingers on the edge of the desk. “Please be

kind enough to inform my guardian that I will not play Guinevere to an aging Arthur. I would

prefer to build my nest with a young Lancelot.”



Miss Chalfont’s shoulders heaved as though she was trying not to laugh. “Regardless of

your preference, you must marry according to your guardian’s wish.”



“Dear ma’am, you and your mother have always been kind to me. I cannot believe you

approve of—”



“As I have already said, my approval or disapproval is of no importance. Your duty is to

obey.”



Annabelle’s anger boiled and she felt somewhat sick in the stomach. Now that she was old

enough to leave the seminary, it seemed that unless she refused to co-operate, she really would

be disposed of without the slightest consideration for her personal wishes. Simultaneously afraid

to obey her guardian and furious because not even Miss Chalfont seemed to care about her

dilemma, Annabelle straightened up. She looked around the cosy parlour, with its thick oriental

rugs, pretty figurines on the mantelpiece, and a number of gilt-framed pictures on the wall, one

of which she had painted. “I will consider the marriage.” Annabelle looked down again, in case

rebellion revealed itself on her face. But she had not lied. She would consider the marriage

proposal, but not in the manner Miss Chalfont expected, for she would find a way to reject the

elderly baron.





Miss Chalfont stood, walked round her desk, and patted Annabelle’s shoulder before resting

her hand on it. “My dear child, there is little for you to consider. I dread to think of the

consequences if you disobey your guardian. You could be cast penniless from here with only the

clothes on your back. After all, your guardian does have complete power over you.”



Annabelle wanted to jerk away from her uncaring teacher’s hand but forced herself to

remain passive. She did not want the woman to suspect the nature of her rebellious thoughts and

have her closely watched. Inwardly, she seethed and decided that whatever the cost, she would

escape the fate in store for her. An image of her former nurse, with whom she corresponded,

flashed through her mind. With it came a sense of security and purpose.

On the 27th October, False Pretences will be available from: https://museituppublishing.com/bookshop2/

Monday 15 October 2012

New release 27/10/2912 False Pretences

There is a pre-order special of a 20% discount on my new release Regency novel False Pretences at
https://museituppublishing,com/bookstore2

                                                  Back book cover of False Pretences.

Five-year-old Annabelle arrived at boarding school fluent in French and English. Separated from her nurse, a dismal shadow blights Annabelle’s life because she does not know who her parents are.


High-spirited Annabelle is financially dependent on her unknown guardian. She refuses to marry a French baron more than twice her age.

Her life in danger, Annabelle is saved by a gentleman, who says he will help her to discover her identity. Yet, from then on nothing is as it seems, and she is forced to run away for the second time to protect her rescuer.

Even more determined to discover her parents’ identity, in spite of many false pretences, Annabelle must learn who to trust. Her attempts to unravel the mystery of her birth, lead to further danger, despair, unbearable heartache and even more false pretences until the only person who has ever wanted to cherish her, reveals the startling truth, and all’s well that ends well.

                                                                           False Pretences

                                                                             Chapter One

                                                                                1815



“I have good news for you, Annabelle,” said Miss Chalfont, the well-educated head mistress and owner of The Beeches, an exclusive school for young ladies.

Seated on a straight-backed chair opposite Miss Chalfont’s walnut desk, Annabelle clasped her hands tightly on her lap. “Has my guardian told you who my parents are?” she asked in a voice quivering with excitement.

Regret flickered across Miss Chalfont’s face before she shook her head. “No, I am very sorry, he has not. For your sake I wish he had. In fact, I do not know who he is. I receive instructions from a lawyer in Dover. To be honest, for no particular reason, I have always assumed your guardian’s identity is that of a man, but it could be that of a woman.”

Dover! Annabelle thought. The town where she had lived with her nurse before a nameless elegant lady, with a French accent, brought her to The Beeches. Time and time again she had wondered if the lady was her guardian or whether she was a stranger ordered to bring her here. She had no way of knowing, for the lady had not answered any of her questions. Annabelle looked into Miss Chalfont’s eyes. “Who is the lawyer, ma’am?”

“I do not know for he does not identify himself. He merely arranges for your…er…upkeep, and sends me your guardian’s instructions.” No clue to the mystery of my own identity, Annabelle thought and gazed down to conceal her disappointment. “Has the lawyer given you permission to tell me who my guardian is?” she asked, despite her suspicion that he had not. Miss Chalfont looked down at a letter. “No, your guardian, whom I have no doubt has your welfare at heart, still wishes to remain anonymous. But, my dear child, you are fortunate. Your guardian has arranged for you to marry Monsieur le Baron de Beauchamp.”

Annabelle looked up with a mixture of astonishment, disbelief, and intense indignation at the arrangement that took no heed of her wishes. “I am to marry a man I have never met?”

With restless fingers, Miss Chalfont adjusted her frilled mobcap. “Yes, your guardian has arranged for you to marry Monsieur le Baron tomorrow.”

Annabelle stared at her kind teacher as though she had turned into a monster. “Mon dieu!” she raged, reverting to the French she spoke when she was a small child. “My God! Tomorrow? My guardian expects me to marry a Frenchman tomorrow? Miss Chalfont, surely you do not approve of such haste.”

“Do not take the Lord’s name in vain.” Miss Chalfont tapped her fingers on her desk. “My approval or disapproval is of no consequence. Your guardian wishes you to marry immediately so there is little more to be said. A special licence has been procured and the vicar has been informed.” Miss Chalfont smiled at her. “You have nothing to fear. This letter informs me that Monsieur speaks English and lives in this country.”

Annabelle scowled. Her hands trembled. For the first time, she defied her head mistress. “Nothing to fear? My life is to be put in the hands of a husband with the right to…beat me…or… starve me, and you say I have nothing to fear, Miss Chalfont? Please believe me when I say that nothing will persuade me to marry in such haste.”

Not the least display of emotion crossed the head teacher’s face. “You should not allow your imagination to agitate your sensibilities. For all you know, the monsieur is charming and will be a good, kind husband.”

“On the other hand, he might be a monster,” Annabelle said.

Miss Chalfont ignored the interruption and continued. “At eighteen, you are the oldest girl in the school. It is time for you to leave the nest and establish one of your own.”

“Twaddle,” Annabelle muttered. “My education is almost complete and I suspect you wish to be rid of me.”

Miss Chalfont smoothed the skirt of her steel-grey woollen gown and looked at Annabelle with a cold expression in her eyes. “I beg your pardon? Did I hear you say twaddle? As for wishing to be rid of you child, that is not true. However, I will admit that in recent months I have worried about your guardian’s future plans for you. But I need not have worried. As a happy bride, I daresay you will go to London where those pretty blue eyes and long lashes of yours will be so much admired that Monsieur le Baron will be proud of you.”

At any other time Miss Chalfont’s rare compliment would have pleased her. On this occasion it only served to increase the fury she tried to conceal. Losing her temper would be pointless. Before Annabelle spoke, she took a deep breath to calm herself. “It is unreasonable to order me to marry the man without allowing me time to become acquainted with him.”

“Do not refer to your bridegroom as the man. I have told you his name is de Beauchamp.”

Rebellion flamed in Annabelle’s stomach. “What do you know of my…er...bridegroom-tobe, ma’am?”

Miss Chalfont looked down at the letter. “He is described as a handsome gentleman of mature years.”

“One would think the description is of a piece of mature cheese or a bottle of vintage wine.”

Miss Chalfont frowned. “Do not be impertinent, Annabelle, you are not too old to be punished.”

“I beg your pardon, ma’am, but please tell me how mature he is,” Annabelle said, her eyes wide open and her entire body taut with apprehension.

“Monsieur le Baron is some forty-years-old.”

“How mature?” Annabelle persisted with her usual bluntness.

“He is forty-two-years-old.”

Annabelle stood, bent forward, and drummed her fingers on the edge of the desk. “Please be kind enough to inform my guardian that I will not play Guinevere to an aging Arthur. I would prefer to build my nest with a young Lancelot.”

Miss Chalfont’s shoulders heaved as though she was trying not to laugh. “Regardless of your preference, you must marry according to your guardian’s wish.”

“Dear ma’am, you and your mother have always been kind to me. I cannot believe you approve of—”

“As I have already said, my approval or disapproval is of no importance. Your duty is to obey.” Annabelle’s anger boiled and she felt somewhat sick in the stomach. Now that she was old enough to leave the seminary, it seemed that unless she refused to co-operate, she really would be disposed of without the slightest consideration for her personal wishes. Simultaneously afraid to obey her guardian and furious because not even Miss Chalfont seemed to care about her dilemma, Annabelle straightened up. She looked around the cosy parlour, with its thick oriental rugs, pretty figurines on the mantelpiece, and a number of gilt-framed pictures on the wall, one of which she had painted. “I will consider the marriage.” Annabelle looked down again, in case rebellion revealed itself on her face. But she had not lied. She would consider the marriage proposal, but not in the manner Miss Chalfont expected, for she would find a way to reject the elderly baron.

Miss Chalfont stood, walked round her desk, and patted Annabelle’s shoulder before resting her hand on it. “My dear child, there is little for you to consider. I dread to think of the consequences if you disobey your guardian. You could be cast penniless from here with only the clothes on your back. After all, your guardian does have complete power over you.”

Annabelle wanted to jerk away from her uncaring teacher’s hand but forced herself to remain passive. She did not want the woman to suspect the nature of her rebellious thoughts and have her closely watched. Inwardly, she seethed and decided that whatever the cost, she would escape the fate in store for her. An image of her former nurse, with whom she corresponded, flashed through her mind. With it came a sense of security and purpose.





Wednesday 19 September 2012

Vote Now for Festival of Romance'sbest film and t.v.programme


The Festival of Romance will be presenting awards this year to the BEST ROMANTIC FILM of the year and the BEST ROMANTIC TELEVISION PROGRAMME of the year. Please CAST YOUR VOTE now and help decide the winners on the big and small screen -- and you could WIN a pair of tickets to mix with the stars of romance at the gala Festival of Romance Awards on 16th November 2012.

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Best regards

Kate - site admin

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The Festival of Romance Film and T.V. Awards

The Festival of Romance will be presenting awards this year to the BEST ROMANTIC FILM of the year and the BEST ROMANTIC TELEVISION PROGRAMME of the year. Please CAST YOUR VOTE now and help decide the winners on the big and small screen -- and you could WIN a pair of tickets to mix with the stars of romance at the gala Festival of Romance Awards on 16th November 2012.








Tuesday 18 September 2012

Final Prelude to War between France & England 1790-1793

Novels set during the French Revolution, the Napoleonic Wars and The Regency are very popular, so I am sharing my research with this group.

Those Englishmen, who considered the French Revolution was a disaster, regarded the massacres in September not only as a vindication of their predictions but as a prelude to war. However, the Prime Minister, William Pitt, dreaded war and preferred the path of appeasement.

The influx of thousands of penniless refugees, each with a tragic tale about the cruelty of the French Revolution, touched the hearts of kind-natured English men and women. The horror of events in France brought to mind the massacre of St. Bartholomew and the persecution of French Huguenots. Almost hereditary hatred of the French swept the country.

Pitt remained calm in spite of war mongers, and refused to deport representatives of a government which sanctioned the massacre at the Tuileries.

In England, after the wettest summer anyone could remember the harvest failed. Hunger spread throughout the land and peopled rioted in the north. Those in support of the revolution across the English Channel were blind to the facts. They envisaged the prospect of the happy, free life that French politicians promised. Pitt faced confrontation from those in favour of revolution who threatened stability at home. He was afraid of hungry men angered by a rise in the price of bread who believed French propaganda.

At this crucial period in English history news that General Custine had captured Mainz, had terrorised the Rhineland and then marched to Frankfurt arrived. Four days later Dumouriez, with a horde of skirmishers and ragged fanatics chanting ‘the Marseillaise’ swept the Austrians from their northern fortresses, and then marched on to Brussels.

The French politicians were delighted. They issued edicts which gave permission for their generals to follow the fleeing foe into neutral territory, and to flout the international agreements not to invade the Scheldt estuary in Holland. Soon, French gunboats sailed along the river to attack Antwerp.

Britain, the main guarantor of the Scheldt treaties, could only agree to the Dutch Ambassador’s request for Britain to honour the pledge if France invaded Holland. Pitt, who knew European peace was dependent on respect of international agreements, consented. Nevertheless, he hoped for the chance to settle the differences between European nations, thus concluding the war and leaving France to sort out her internal affairs. This became almost impossible because, after Antwerp fell, the French demanded free passage for their troops through the frontier fort of Maestricht, and the Dutch requested a British squadron to assist them.

It was essential for British trade to retain control of the Dutch coastline and the anchorages in the Scheldt. The Dutch alliance was one of the keystones of Pitt’s foreign policy which he could not risk. In a friendly conversation with Maret, a French diplomat on a private visit to England, Pitt warned him that an attack on Holland would lead to war.

The revolutionary leaders in France wanted conquest, an instrument of the revolution. They also wanted Holland’s international banks and gold reserves.

French criticism of Britain and her institutions, which the British were proud of, had turned the public opinion against France. English men united to preserve their rights and liberties and were determined to:-

‘Stand by the Church and the King and Laws;
The old Lion still has his teeth and claws.
Let Britain still rule in the midst of her waves,
And chastise all those foes who dare call her sons slaves.”

Sure that Britain would intervene Dumouriez was ordered not to invade Holland. In the British parliament Whigs and Tories united and sanctioned recruiting 17,000 more soldiers and 9,000 sailors.

Pitt’s pursuit of peace failed, but the French were forced to reconsider although they believed Britain’s strength depended on trade, and that if they could cut it off Britain would collapse. In their opinion, the British people would then revolt and welcome a French invasion, which would “regulate the destiny of nations and found the liberty of the world.”

On January 10th, 1793, the French Executive Council sanctioned the invasion of the United Netherlands. Immediately the British government issued orders to ban grain, which might be used by the invasion.

War was inevitable. After five years on half-pay, Captain Horatio Nelson rejoiced when offered a ship. He wrote: “everything indicates war, one of our ships looking into Brest has been fired into.” On the 20th of January, Britain negotiated with Austria and Prussia to act against France. When news of the French king’s execution reached London the response was hysterical fury. On the 1st of February the Republic of France declared war on Holland and Britain.

In Parliament Pitt declared: “Unless we wish to stand by, and to suffer State after State to be subverted under the power of France, we must now declare our firm resolution effectually to oppose those principles of ambition and aggrandisement which have for their object the destruction of England, of Europe and the world….whatever may be our wishes for peace, the final issue must be war.”

One can only imagine the Prime Minister’s despair after his strenuous efforts to maintain peace at home and abroad.

www.rosemarymorris.co.uk
http://rosemarymorris.blogspot.com

Available from museituppublighing.com/bookstore2Tangled Love
Sunday's Child
New release in October False Pretences



Final Prelude to War between France & England 1790 -1793


Novels set during the French Revolution, the Napoleonic Wars and The Regency are very popular, so I am sharing my research with this group.

Those Englishmen, who considered the French Revolution was a disaster, regarded the massacres in September not only as a vindication of their predictions but as a prelude to war. However, the Prime Minister, William Pitt, dreaded war and preferred the path of appeasement.

The influx of thousands of penniless refugees, each with a tragic tale about the cruelty of the French Revolution, touched the hearts of kind-natured English men and women. The horror of events in France brought to mind the massacre of St. Bartholomew and the persecution of French Huguenots. Almost hereditary hatred of the French swept the country.

Pitt remained calm in spite of war mongers, and refused to deport representatives of a government which sanctioned the massacre at the Tuileries.

In England, after the wettest summer anyone could remember the harvest failed. Hunger spread throughout the land and peopled rioted in the north. Those in support of the revolution across the English Channel were blind to the facts. They envisaged the prospect of the happy, free life that French politicians promised. Pitt faced confrontation from those in favour of revolution who threatened stability at home. He was afraid of hungry men angered by a rise in the price of bread who believed French propaganda.

At this crucial period in English history news that General Custine had captured Mainz, had terrorised the Rhineland and then marched to Frankfurt arrived. Four days later Dumouriez, with a horde of skirmishers and ragged fanatics chanting ‘the Marseillaise’ swept the Austrians from their northern fortresses, and then marched on to Brussels.

The French politicians were delighted. They issued edicts which gave permission for their generals to follow the fleeing foe into neutral territory, and to flout the international agreements not to invade the Scheldt estuary in Holland. Soon, French gunboats sailed along the river to attack Antwerp.

Britain, the main guarantor of the Scheldt treaties, could only agree to the Dutch Ambassador’s request for Britain to honour the pledge if France invaded Holland. Pitt, who knew European peace was dependent on respect of international agreements, consented. Nevertheless, he hoped for the chance to settle the differences between European nations, thus concluding the war and leaving France to sort out her internal affairs. This became almost impossible because, after Antwerp fell, the French demanded free passage for their troops through the frontier fort of Maestricht, and the Dutch requested a British squadron to assist them.

It was essential for British trade to retain control of the Dutch coastline and the anchorages in the Scheldt. The Dutch alliance was one of the keystones of Pitt’s foreign policy which he could not risk. In a friendly conversation with Maret, a French diplomat on a private visit to England, Pitt warned him that an attack on Holland would lead to war.

The revolutionary leaders in France wanted conquest, an instrument of the revolution. They also wanted Holland’s international banks and gold reserves.

French criticism of Britain and her institutions, which the British were proud of, had turned the public opinion against France. English men united to preserve their rights and liberties and were determined to:-

"Stand by the Church and the King and Laws;
The old Lion still has his teeth and claws.
Let Britain still rule in the midst of her waves,
And chastise all those foes who dare call her sons slaves.”

Sure that Britain would intervene Dumouriez was ordered not to invade Holland. In the British parliament Whigs and Tories united and sanctioned recruiting 17,000 more soldiers and 9,000 sailors.

Pitt’s pursuit of peace failed, but the French were forced to reconsider although they believed Britain’s strength depended on trade, and that if they could cut it off Britain would collapse. In their opinion, the British people would then revolt and welcome a French invasion, which would “regulate the destiny of nations and found the liberty of the world.”

On January 10th, 1793, the French Executive Council sanctioned the invasion of the United Netherlands. Immediately the British government issued orders to ban grain, which might be used by the invasion.

War was inevitable. After five years on half-pay, Captain Horatio Nelson rejoiced when offered a ship. He wrote: “everything indicates war, one of our ships looking into Brest has been fired into.” On the 20th of January, Britain negotiated with Austria and Prussia to act against France. When news of the French king’s execution reached London the response was hysterical fury. On the 1st of February the Republic of France declared war on Holland and Britain.

In Parliament Pitt declared: “Unless we wish to stand by, and to suffer State after State to be subverted under the power of France, we must now declare our firm resolution effectually to oppose those principles of ambition and aggrandisement which have for their object the destruction of England, of Europe and the world….whatever may be our wishes for peace, the final issue must be war.”

One can only imagine the Prime Minister’s despair after his strenuous efforts to maintain peace at home and abroad.

www.rosemarymorris.co.uk

http://rosemarymorris.blogspot.com


Available from museituppublishing.com/bookstore2

Tangled Love
Sunday's Child
New release in October False Pretnces