October 30th, 1786

Arrived in Paris and I have met my delightful goddaughter, sent a note to Mme Elisabeth whom I am hoping to visit while here, and corresponded with Maman about the Christmas plans in Riom. I've also taken the opportunity to reach out to several people in pursuit of the annuity which was promised me after Thierry's death and which, all these years later, I have still not received. I'm fatigued by the relentlessly necessary advocacy needed to accomplish anything at Versailles, and very much exasperated at the extent to which I always seem to be out of money. It is true that my father left my mother and myself in not particularly enriched circumstances upon his death, but my schooling was not as expensive as it might otherwise have been, and I do not think that Maman was particularly extravagant. Nor am I; but yet the coins do slip away fast, and faster still when in Paris where I am at present ensconced officially with Elizabeth Comtesse R- though she very knowingly expects me to spend the majority of my evenings at the Chevalier's residence. 

His home is pleasant, though somewhat old-fashioned for someone so aware of his image. This ceased to amaze me when I found out that the hotel was still owned by his father, who I gather is not keen to spend money on refurbishment. The Chevalier is all embarrassment and apologies on this account, I however keep telling him that it bothers me not a jot. Which it doesn't. I note that he is right and the home is a bit run-down in places and certainly demode, but it is comfortable nonetheless, and after all he doesn't do much in the way of entertaining at home. I suspect he'd like to do more.

Exhausted of late thanks to travel and the usual intrigue and the sheer force of will required to act in a manner expected by those who see me. The time allotted for widows to been seen grieving and in pain has long since expired, and I observe that there are few who, standing a room with a woman who has lost a much wished-for child, will have a care for her feelings upon the celebration of her friend's third healthy child. Some would call these wicked thoughts, and so they may be, but wickedness is human after all. They're only thoughts. 

I await a return missive from the Princess and hopefully an invitation to Montreuil where I know I can be happy for a few moments at least in her gracious presence. But it is late in the morning now, and I must finish dressing and breakfast with my hostess before attending to any other matters.

Olympe

The Uncrowned Queen Charlotte: The Tragic Tale of a Lost Princess

If you have ever had the pleasure of a visit to St. George's Chapel at Windsor Castle, then you have probably stood in awe over the grave of Henry VIII, or gaped at the memorial display to Prince Albert; but far and away the most evocative sculptural grave marker is that of Princess Charlotte, only daughter of George IV, the Prince Regent. You may be familiar with good old George's preference for his first wife, Maria Fitzherbert, a Catholic widow with whom he actually lived for a time. Unfortunately since his marriage wasn't approved by his father George III it was never technically valid, and Georgie boy was forced to wed his cousin, Caroline of Brunswick. Perhaps it was this unwelcome choice that made him loathe his new legal bride (although he would have many lovers and mistresses in his life), or maybe it was simply an unsuited pairing on both sides. Caroline didn't much like him either, certainly. What George did get out of it was an increased income, badly needed on account of his uncontrolled debts, and an heir. 

For duty is duty. Though the royal couple were, by some accounts, outright repulsed by each other and separated a mere few weeks after their wedding in April of 1795, George did admit that they had slept together a whopping three times. 9 months later, on January 7th 1796 Princess Charlotte Augusta was born to the mild disappointment of her father, who had hoped that she would be a boy, and the absolute delight of the British public who adored her from the start. 

Charlotte from the first represented a way for George to lash out at his unwanted wife, who was forbidden from seeing their daughter except for once a day in the company of the servants who cared for the girl. Undeterred, Caroline flouted this requirement by going out with the girl in her carriage, and George was frequently none the wiser since he himself had little to do with either of them. Caroline was likewise barred from having any say in the care and upbringing of their daughter, and she responded by moving out of the Prince's household and into one of her own. When invited back to spend one Christmas she flatly refused, fully knowing that a lack of proximity meant that the Prince of Wales was unlikely to have any further legitimate children while she lived. When George tried to divorce her via a very public, scandalous, and frankly hypocritical trial over her supposed liaisons with other men, he was met with disappointment when the jury found in her favor. 

Through all of this, Charlotte grew up a healthy and robust child, cheerful despite the fact that she lived entirely on her own in a household away from either of her parents. During the trial of her mother the two were not permitted to see each other at all, and the little princess, who was ten at the time, was much hurt when her mother pretended not to see her while walking in a public park, being under threat from George at the time. As she grew into her teenage years many contemporaries remarked upon her artless and easy manners, some calling them "undignified" while others found her lack of pretense or airs charming. Charlotte herself found that she identified with passionate but confined characters, and no surprise there. Her father's instructions for her behavior as she grew became ever stricter, so much so that they drew the disapproval of much of his sprawling extended family of siblings and his own parents who found ways of giving the princess some of the freedom she craved.

Eventually thoughts turned to Charlotte's own marriage, and one was very nearly arranged with the son of the Prince of Orange. George was very for the match, though not enthralled with the young man. Caroline, true to form, was against it and in this public opinion was with her as they urged the princess not to quit England for a foreign land, or to disappoint her mother. Aw. It may have been this helpful suggestion from the vox populi that gave Charlotte the idea to stage an end to the engagement by requiring her intended husband to allow her mother to live with them. He refused and the betrothal was broken off. Meanwhile Charlotte had set her gaze on a young officer,  Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg-Saalfeld, heir to Belgium. The Prince Regent's response to the breaking of the troth was typical of George, he sent orders that the princess be confined to her house and allowed to see no one except the Queen. The spirited Charlotte learned of these orders and straightaway rushed by cab to her mother's home where she was apprehended by members of the family and convinced to return home.

The event fired not only the public imagination, but the politicians of the time and several of the prince's own brothers. When the Duke of Sussex dared to broach the matter with him the two had a falling out and never spoke to each other after that. Meanwhile Caroline decided to leave for the continent for a while, an absence which her aggrieved daughter resigned herself to not realizing that the two would never see each other again. Though a real future with "Leo," as she referred to him, seemed unlikely given the Prince Regent's obstinate rejection of the match, Charlotte was determined and continued to berate her father with requests, both personal and formal until at last, following the final defeat of Napoleon, he agreed to summon Leopold to Britain. On March 14th, 1816 the engagement announcement was made, and on May 2nd they wed. 

The public was overjoyed and when they appeared after the honeymoon they were greeted with wild cheering and applause and singing of "God Save the King" showing what an important PR influence Charlotte had on the monarchy. As to the lady herself, those who had known her remarked that she was calmer now, and more in control of herself. She and her new husband gave each other pet names, but by August she had already suffered one miscarriage. The next pregnancy was not announced until April of the following year when Charlotte was farther along.

Concern for her and for the child were prominent on the minds of low and high-born alike. Betting shops took wagers on every aspect of the birth, and her doctors put Charlotte on a strict diet. Her main physician was one Sir Richard Croft, who was actually an accouchateur (from the French "to deliver" specific to childbirth) rather than a doctor. The decision to use this fashionable assistant rather than a medical professional was seen by some as a fatal mistake. Charlotte went into labor on November 3rd, but by the 5th was still unable to bring forth the baby. At 9pm that night a stillborn boy was finally delivered and Leopold, who had been by her side through it all, finally took to his own bed with the aid of an opiate. Later than evening when they tried to rouse him to see the fast-fading Charlotte he could not be woken and was unconscious when she died in the night. He would later write:-

"Two generations gone. Gone in a moment! I have felt for myself, but I have also felt for the Prince Regent. My Charlotte is gone from the country—it has lost her. She was a good, she was an admirable woman. None could know my Charlotte as I did know her! It was my study, my duty, to know her character, but it was my delight!"

The Prince Regent was devastated to the extent that he could not bear to attend his daughter's funeral. Princess Caroline collapsed at the news. The general public went into deep mourning and the country effectively shut for two weeks. Sir Richard Croft was blamed by many and would end up taking his own life. 

Several statues and plaques were erected to her memory, but none so moving as the one at Windsor where Charlotte was laid to rest with her infant son at her feet. Technically, the memorial is in what's called the Urswick Chapel, which is only one small part of the larger church structure, tucked into a back corner. It is impossible to miss though; the shrouded marble figure beneath the sheet giving way to the ascending figure of a young woman rapturously reaching for heaven attended by gentle angels. The memorial was constructed by subscription, meaning members of the public chipped in to contribute to its cost and creation, so beloved was this people's princess. She surely would have made a much-loved queen.

There is an interesting postscript, however, because it was in part due to this tragedy that England did get a much-revered Queen. Charlotte's death left no legitimate heir in the next generation of the royal family, prompting the youngest son of George III, the Prince Regent's brother, the Duke of Kent to propose to the widowed Leopold's sister; Victoria. They, of course, went on to have a single daughter of their own, later known as Britain's long-reigning Queen Victoria. 

For Your Chateau

 

Apologies for the drive-by post, but things have been a bit hectic of late. I should have some exciting news to share soon, as well as an actual informative post; but in the meantime enjoy this week's curated selection of some of my favorite Etsy finds for your chateau and French-inspired dreams. 

October 15th, 1786

There is exciting news! My very dear friend, Elizabeth de R-, writes that she is delivered of a daughter and wishes me to come to Paris to meet the child and stand as her Godmother! I am in raptures and the Chevalier laughs at me in good humor as I make plans for the trip and all of the gifts I wish to acquire or bring with me for the child. Second to having one's own, a godchild is best. Or perhaps a niece or nephew, as Maman and I are ever waiting for from Andre and his wife Sonya. My poor sister-in-law is plagued by some troubles and Andre, true to his nature, is in no hurry though he should be, as Sonya is not much younger than I. Time is slipping away from me in that matter. 

Emilie has been informed of our intention to return briefly to Paris before the weather turns and will, instead of journeying back alone, travel with us all the way. I've instructed my maid Marianne to go in search of some of my own long-stored baby things of which to make a present for my goddaughter, and she grumbles where she thinks I cannot hear her over this being added to her duties even as we prepare to travel again so soon. If I know Marianne, however,- and by now I do- she'll be relieved to return to Paris as she is always happier in the city than in the country. 

I've also decided to go with the Chevalier and Emilie into town today to buy some cloth to make linens and sundry other goods for the child. It is as if I have been waiting for this and am now dashing away full of renewed vigor and purpose. Oh, I very nearly forgot to mention that the child is named Cornelia. Not a surprise from Elizabeth and Comte Jules, but I cannot say it is a name which has much appeal to me. No matter, it will now be as dear to me as she is before I have even met her. 

-Olympe

For Your Chateau

 

I am almost done collecting all of the blue and white tiles that I will need for the mantle project, which is getting another round of sanding today since the paint and putting from its previous owner was flaking and uneven. Just one more tile, and the one featured in this week's picks is the one I am thinking I will purchase eventually.

I also did finally acquire that new bookcase I so desperately needed for the piles of books in my home. Oh there are still piles of books, despite the now four bookcases (it was five, but one collapsed last year), however now there are fewer piles and one very nice and convenient display in the sitting room. 

I've been familiar with the Sapphire and Sage supplier for many years, as I spent time as a member of the Society for Creative Anachronism (SCA), but I'm out of the game and was surprised to see this vendor crop up in my Etsy recs. I probably wouldn't be considering the ring shown, except that it is inspired by Queen Elizabeth I's own ring showing the portrait of her mother, Anne Boleyn. I have a former student with whom I remain very close and who has a deep and abiding affection for Tudor history, especially Anne Boleyn, so I may get this for her for Christmas. 

Sadly we have had to cancel our trip to London in December. Stupid Covid. Mayhaps I will give myself the Dicken's London book as a pick-me-up for that disappointment. It's not that expensive.

Last, but not least, I am trying to make some improvements to the dining room, though the majority of it will certainly have to wait until next year. In the meantime I thought I could at least get a nice tablecloth, and of course the finest would be in Irish linen. My mother bought something lovely and similar in Dublin many years ago when we were on holiday, but hers is round and my table is rectangular. My partner suggested recently that we might spend Thanksgiving at home together this year instead of going up to D.C. to his family, so a pleasing tablescape would be very timely.

October 7th, 1786

The chevalier has returned! I note that Emilie has crept out of her room more now that he is here, but he allays all of my fears by showing me great affection and preference. Even the dog seems to rejoice in seeing him again and spends as much time as she may be allowed curled up on his lap. He has also brought with him many delights from Paris; chocolate and silks, and a little silver clock that has figures which dance with the hours. I am at times overwhelmed by his generosity. Moreover I find him gentle with my servants, which is to be noted as I had observed on some occasions that he spoke harshly to his own, but I know not the temperament nor the history of those individuals. Perhaps it was warranted. 

I've informed him of my intent to winter in Riom at Portaberaud, and invited him to join me as well, but his demeanor suggests that he will prefer his own family even as his words do not deny my suit. Two nights hence we conversed on the subject of marriage, but each find the other shy to commit any great expectation to the match. I remain unsure of what I would say should he propose as I would expect that a young man such as he would be interested in the furtherance of his line, but he seems much more inclined to the furtherance of his wealth and entertainments. Paris is for him and this will always divide us. 

No news from Versailles on either the Treaty or from Mme Elisabeth who is, I gather, much engaged with the little princes and princesses at present. She has also been involved with the celebrations of the centenary of St. Cyr, of which I am likewise fond having been at school there myself. A small donation would not be amiss, were I not so concerned with financial needs for Saint Saturnin. The saints will, I'm sure, understand that the temporal being satisfied makes it easier to attend to the spiritual, but this thought is too like those of the chevalier and show his influence. I must work on being as much an influence for him.

-Olympe

Clever Quilting and Other Ingenious 18th Century Clothing Hacks

The upper classes may have been able to afford the nicest things in the finest materials, but even they at times found ways to be frugal with their attire. Take for example these quilted petticoats. They each exhibit signs of smart textile engineering through the additional fabric added as stripes. Petticoats like this, with their quilted material, would have been most popular in colder regions such as Sweden, England, and even the American colonies. The red one comes to us courtesy of Colonial Williamsburg in Virginia, and that orange band at the top no only lengthens the petticoat, but more to the point it provides a less bulky fabric that can be gathered to fit a small space like a corseted waist. If you try to sew a channel in quilted fabric you end up with something really thick that does not gather or pleated down smoothly. The other petticoat, with its wide white stripes on the yellow, is a way of extending a petticoat that otherwise would be too short so that the extending fabric becomes a feature rather than an eyesore. The quilting unifies the two areas so that they are taken as whole piece rather than cutting the figure.

It's also a nice contrast from the first image because it clearly shows the thick, difficult pleating that happens when this kind of fabric is gathered to a waistband. It's pretty bulky, comparatively-speaking. This one can be found at the Met in New York. I've known many reenactors to make their quilted petticoats out of old bedspreads, should you want to try it for yourself.

A slightly more hidden example of the ingenuity of our ancestors in this regard is in the interior linings of many a glorious sacque-backed gown (a.k.a. the robe a la francaise). One look at the inside of one of these beauties and you'll notice that not only does the lining not necessarily match the outer fabric at all, but that sometimes it is either taken from an earlier gown that is being cannibalized, or even many pieces from perhaps off-cuts of other projects. Piecing is period! For a truly wild and wonderful look at this in action you can head to the Met to see a French jacket of the last quarter of the 18th century (below) which has an abundance of different fabrics all used to make up one lining. I'd love to know if these were all from other garments in its owner's collection, or if they were cheap leftovers from the shop of the tailor or dressmaker who created it for the client. Personally, I think we should bring this idea back, for fashion, for sustainability, and for the good of all of our budgets!

For Your (Georgian) Wardrobe

 

I thought that this week, instead of focusing on items for your home, we'd shift to looking at some 18th-century appropriate items for your wardrobe. I used to have the beginnings of a fan collection, but found it an expensive hobby without much intrinsic use and was forced to abandon it in favor of more practical things. Like books, as evidenced by the new bookcase that arrives tomorrow. Still I can't help but put a few of these gorgeous examples on my wishlist for the day when I can be just that little bit frivolous again. 

Happily, not all of the purchasing I've done in the past has been for me, and we were originally scheduled to do an 18th century show this year at work. I spent two month of the summer working on it, only to have it Covid-cancelled. Sad panda. However, I had already ordered two absolutely stunning wigs from DecorumetBagatelle all the way from France. Someday we will do that show, and in the meantime they will be great examples for my students.