Wedding publishing

With the royal wedding in full swing, I’ve been looking at wedding-related publishing  in Edwardian times. It seems that nothing much has changed …

Then, as now, weddings attracted dreamy idealists.  Harrison Fisher, author of “The Greatest moments in a girl’s life”  certainly chose the idealist version of marriage, as in this illustration entitled “The wedding”.

I took a dislike to Fisher at first because his idea of the first ‘great moment in a girl’s life’ was  a proposal of marriage! The idea of waiting for someone to come along and propose before your life could start sounds old-fashioned even for 1911. However, in real life Fisher was a surprisingly down-to-earth sort of chap who never married but settled down to live with his secretary without any of the spectacular wedding ceremonies he painted.

The other type of wedding-related publishing was the “guide to wedding etiquette”. These books tend to be far more businesslike. The etiquette of marriage adopts a brisk approach from the start: “marriage is a binding legal contract between two individuals, and both should observe such principles as would guide two cautious people entering into a business partnership”. There is an entire chapter on how to break an engagement, much advice on saving money (brown horses to draw the carriage are cheaper than grey, apparently) and a solemn warning that a wedding “entails a vast amount of fatigue on all concerned”.  In contrast “The etiquette of engagement and marriage”    is cheerfully encouraging about preparing for a wedding “All women love shopping. Surely no expedition can be so delightful as going to buy wedding clothes with a well-stocked purse!”     The wedding itself ought to be enjoyed even by the participants  – “Weeping brides are out of date”   –  and any crises managed with a sense of humour.

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Roller-skating and the Great Monohan

When I first found the ‘Text-book of roller-skating’, it bought on a bit of roller nostalgia and a vague interest in when it all began, not much more, but then I flicked through to count the plates … In short I wasn’t going to blog about roller skating but then I saw the amazing moves of the Great Monohan!!! 

Roller-skating seems to have had a shaky history. It started some time in the early 1700’s with strange experimentations, but didn’t really become noted until in 1760 Joseph Merlin of Belgium proudly revealed his skates by gliding around a masquerade party while playing a violin, eventually crashing into and smashing a gilded mirror worth £500!

 This was followed by new designs (all still pretty much unable to corner) and a flurry of patents in the 1800’s across Europe and America. It was not however until James Leonard Plimpton of New York invented the quad skate (which could curve) that people started to show interest and the first skating rink opened in Rhode Island. Skating as a pastime has had numerous ups and downs in popularity. The 1870’s saw a craze start and then fall. A resurgence took place in the late 1880s/early 1890’s with the beginnings of artistic roller skating and roller hockey. Rinks reopened across the country and the Metropolitan branch of the National Skating Association in London held an “emergency committee” in 1892 to decide whether to include roller skating, providing it with bye-laws, track regulations, registration procedures to clubs and societies. They agreed, yet popularity soon dropped again.

Reasons for rises in popularity were often linked to the adaptations of skate design, making them cheaper or more functional. Reasons for declines, however, are only hinted at: “The decline of rinks in England was almost as rapid as their rise, and was mainly due to the abuse of the opportunities they gave for making promiscuous acquaintances” [1909.6.497].

Failures were attributed to low admission charges that were designed to attract the thousands, “This principle however did not conduce towards making the pastime one in which the better-class elements in the community could indulge with any degree of satisfaction” [1909.9.524].

 By the time the Great Monohan appeared skating was on the up. Due to the influence of ‘better’ run American rinks, new rinks in Britain were “conducted in a manner that would do credit to many a ball-room” [1909.6.497] and had been “made places of enjoyment for the middle classes capable of paying for rational pleasure at a moderate price” [1909.9.524]. The Blackburn Standard in fact reported Monohan opening one such new rink, ‘decorated with representation of Swiss scenery’, on the 10^th April 1909. As part of this clean up, skating Cinderellas (formal dances) were put on. Here skaters were expected to conform to conventional evening dress, though women could dispense with court trains, for “whilst adapted to the ball-room, they are scarcely suitable for skating” [1909.9.524].

 Monohan’s guide is therefore timely. It is not a mere amateur’s manual, for it swiftly becomes clear that he expects great things of his readers:

 

Clog-dancing and barrel walking (he discourages doing this in public as it doesn’t often work).

 

Steeple chasing: “steeple chasing or hurdle racing over chairs … it isn’t at all easy to get the way of either taking off or landing comfortably,” “be content to ‘progress slowly’” he warns us “and make up your mind that you won’t mind a few bad falls”.

There is also toe-skating, demonstrating your skill by basically tiptoeing through a maze of candles and the rather scary sounding fire hat (no images) “It is just ordinary skating, spinning chiefly, while wearing a specially constructed helmet decorated with lighted fire-sticks. The helmet spins in the opposite direction to its wearer, and with the dazzling sticks in full blaze produces a rather weird effect” an idea for future professionals only.

 He ends on some modest words: hoping that his guide will “attract a few recruits to the pastime [and] encourage a few hitherto disappointed novices to persevere” – as an ex roller-skater I say “It does, Great Monohan, it does indeed!”

 

 

Jobs for the girls

 “If there is one subject more than another which is of paramount importance and interest to girls and young women,” opens the book, “it is that of a career.” Admittedly, the book in question is Leng’s careers for girls (1909.7.2981), but to me, it still seemed an impressively enlightened attitude in an era where you tend to hear about women searching for husbands rather than climbing the career ladder. This volume aims to help young women “to determine what career appeals most strongly to them, or appears best suited to their talents, tastes, and education”, by providing details of different occupations, including the working conditions and pay that women might expect.

Careers for girls

According to the book’s foreword, the “horizon of interests and occupations for women has broadened immeasurably within the past twenty years”, and recent research bears out this claim. The early years of the 20th century were ones which saw a massive increase in the paid employment of women: the number of middle-class women in work in England and Wales rose from 427,000 in 1881 to 1,114,000 in 1911, and for working-class women in the period the number rose from 2,907,600 to 3,687,000. Moreover, the professions open to women weren’t just the typically “feminine” ones (nursing, teaching, etc.). The increase in the educational opportunities for girls and young women enabled them to pursue less traditional careers: amongst others, Careers for girls suggests that girls might like to become journalists (“none perhaps possesses more glamour and attraction for educated girls … in London alone now it is reckoned that there are at least twenty women editors”), factory inspectors (“at the top of the tree, as regards status and emoluments”) and pharmacists. 

Careers for girls endeavours to offer the reality of different jobs – nursing is “utterly commonplace, menial, and unromantic”; those wanting to be a lady’s companion are warned that, not only is it ill-paid and “vague”, there is little demand for it – and of the qualifications and qualities required, for everything from medicine to waitressing. (Librarianship is one of the professions discussed. Apparently the would-be librarian should “have a reading knowledge of at least three languages and a wide acquaintance with literature”, and should also be in good health, “for the atmosphere of a Library is more or less unhealthy”. Oh, good.) Still, the spectrum of careers on offer is rather cheering, as is the belief running throughout the book of the ability of young women to be “clever, capable, cultured workers”.

Not, it must be said, that I’m trying to argue that the Edwardian era was a totally enlightened one. Not long after I catalogued Careers for girls, I came across Napier Hawke’s (extremely odd) novel, The premier and the suffragette (1909.7.1984), which espouses a less enthusiastic view of the capabilities of women. It begins with a leading suffragette named Theodosia (who, from the picture on the cover, has clearly been using her Edwards’ Harlene) breaking into the Prime Minister’s car while he is in it. They are subsequently kidnapped by shadowy forces who want them, together, to resolve the issue of votes for women and find a way to “paralyse the Socialist party”. Theodosia, it must be said, clearly lacks the courage of her convictions, as she quickly gives up on her own cause as “illogical” (thanks). They then spend a full fifty pages discussing socialism (at this point, I admit, I was too bored to pay much attention) and work out a solution (something to do with setting up a very big bank, apparently). By the time they’re released, they have, with crashing inevitability, fallen in love; the end of the book finds them happily married, and Theodosia, now a “radiantly fashionable lady”, is transformed from the “hoidenish Suffragette” she once was. I’m not entirely sure who the novel was originally aimed at, but if you’re looking for a combination of romance and economic theory, it might just be the book for you.

 

“Next wielding sceptre you may see…”

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Kings and Queens, Rhymes

William I: Although his harshness may disgust us / He tempered truculence with justice

We catalogue quite a few books of supposedly memorable rhymes, intended to make it easy to learn the names and dates of  British sovereigns, so I didn’t initially take much notice when I picked up yet another one [Kings and Queens of England by Basil Procter, 1909.7.2126].  However, glancing through it, I couldn’t help but be amused by some of the phrases and rhymes:  this one is rather more entertaining than many of its genre

So here is a quick romp through British history from the Romans who “ruthlessly besieged our land” until “they all went trundling home again” and the Saxons (“I can’t remember half their names”) to Edward the Confessor “Who really should be sharply blamed / For letting William’s Norman horde / Come conquering over from abroad.”

After 1066 (“No matter if your memory’s rotten / This date should never be forgotten”) we move on to the Plantagenets and Henry II who gets ten flattering lines, followed by the comment “Bright was his reign; one thing may fleck it / That sad affair of Thomas Beckett.”  Then we have Richard I, the Crusades being dismissed as “Completely futile, though sublime” and John who “Ate heavily of fruit and died” via Henry II who “when at Lewes he met De Montforte / The wretched king was forced to run for’t” to Edward I, in whose reign “The Scotch were very nearly quelled.” Unfortunately next, “Edward Two, the Scotties teasing / Went home much quicker than was pleasing / Finding Edward so besotted / The English had their king garrotted.”

Skip a century or so: “But as I’m feeling rather blurred / I’ll hurry on to Richard Third / Who basely in the tower did smother / His nephew, Edward V, and brother.”  Later on, Henry VIII is dismissed in four lines; the second couplet being: “He with the Pope refused to palter / And six times over climbed the altar.”  Climbed?  

Richard III: Though hunchback and a trifle tainted / Richard was not so black as painted

Of Cromwell, the author merely comments “He had a wart upon his forehead / Which many folk considered horrid” and Charles II “was a wanton lad / And soon was going to the bad.”  William and Mary get a good press, Anne is “dull” and the Hanovers “in long succession / Create a very drab impression.”  After George III (“He lost America and went mad”) and George IV (“if speak I must / ‘Tis with unutterable disgust”) the author has to be a bit more careful, as he reaches living memory and the grandfather of the current king.

William IV is skipped over in two harmless lines, Victoria gets eight lines of eulogy and of the reigning couple, Edward VII and Alexandra, it is claimed “No greater monarchs have we seen” which, personally, I think is stretching the point a bit.

Having been amused by this work, I can’t help wondering how Procter would have treated later sovereigns; Edward VIII for example.  Perhaps something along the lines of: In order to his great love sate / Poor Eddie had to abdicate.  Well, it’s no worse than any of the above!

Any other suggestions, anyone?

The woman and the car

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Dorothy Levitt, Edwardian era, Motor cars, Women drivers

When I came across a book with this title, I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect: a novel (“motoring” novels were very popular at this time), a manual for women drivers, or maybe a book advocating the view that women should not drive?

In fact, the title-page indicates (slightly patronisingly) that it is a “chatty little handbook for all women who motor or want to motor.”  It was written by Dorothy Levitt, who was the first female motorist in England to drive a car in a public competiton and who went on to win numerous cups and medals for her driving. She was obviously an enterprising and sporting person, as she was a good cyclist and horse rider, an excellent shot and good with a fishing rod, as well as being able to drive a car and a motor-boat. She was also pretty and stylish, and lived the life of a “bachelor girl” in a flat in West London, with a housekeeper, a maid, and a Pomeranian called Dodo. All in all, she sounds like a most unusual woman for her time.

Dorothy Levitt’s advice on motoring for women is at all times practical, although the photographs that illustrate her explanations must strike the modern reader as amusing, since I very much doubt that anyone these days would attempt to repair a car wearing such a hat! The overall (of Dorothy Levitt’s own design) was indispensable as it ensured that no smudges of oil or dirt should stain the driver’s clothes if roadside repairs had to be completed.  The author most helpfully lists all the costs likely to accrue from the moment of purchasing a car and also gives a handy list of items that should be kept in the equivalent of the glove compartment, which was, at that time. a little drawer under the driving seat. 

“This little drawer is the secret of the dainty motoriste. What you put in it depends upon your tastes, but the following articles are what I advise you to have in its recesses. A pair of clean gloves, an extra handkerchief, clean veil, powder puff (unless you despise them), hair-pins and ordinary pins, a hand mirror – and some chocolates are very soothing sometimes!”

She continues her list with soap, and makes sure that the aspiring motorist realises that the handmirror afore mentioned is “not strictly for personal use, but to occasionally hold up to see what is behind you.” This was, of course, in the days before wing or rear-view mirrors became standard. Then, rather startlingly, given that the list was supposed to be for the “dainty motoriste” she continues: “If you are going to drive alone in the highways and byways it might be advisable to carry a small revolver.” The list is then, most fittingly for the sporting person Dorothy Levitt obviously was, rounded off with that absolute necessity to enliven all excursions: a dog!

Although much of her advice seems simplistic, it was designed for complete novice drivers, who had previously only been driven by chauffeurs, or whose families had never owned a car before. It takes the novice through all the necessary pre-drive checks of fuel, oil, brakes, gears and battery for a single-cylinder car, describes how best to drive, gives advice on routine maintenance and repair and explains the rules of the road (as far as they existed at that point).

I don’t know much (anything)  about old timers but the advice that the author gives appears to be clear, concise and logical, and she is obviously interested in promoting driving for women, although she realises that with all the costs relating to the car, the number of women willing and able to take on such an expense must be relatively few in number.

Given Dorothy Levitt’s “dainty” and positively glamorous appearance, it seems hard to believe that she can really have achieved all the sporting success that she could justly claim as her own. I very much doubt whether, in her place, I would have had the strength or the nerve to drive an old timer of this vintage, without power-assisted stearing, what I would consider adequate brakes, or any of the safety features of the modern car – and I certainly couldn’t have done it with Dorothy Levitt’s inimitable style and panache!