When in doubt, they masked it! The wealthier members of society were able to mask their stench with costly perfumes. Pomanders were really popular during the Early Modern period, and these were usually balls of wax mixed with lovely-smelling herbs and flowers and fixed into a small cage. This would usually hang on a cord or ribbon from a person’s waist, and they could put this against their nose whenever a particularly foul smell was present.
Why didn’t they simply take a bath? Some people simply thought it was not good for you to immerse the entire body in water, and anyway, if it’s winter and you’re freezing, with no hot water … well, I think you get the idea. A person’s hands and face were the things most likely to be cleaned daily, if possible. The early Stuart physician Thomas Cogan emphasised the importance of washing one’s face, believing this to be a healthful daily act. Some people, uncomfortable with being dirty or overly pungent, would wash themselves in a river or stream. In 1654, the renowned Dutch artist Rembrandt painted A Woman bathing in a Stream, which shows a woman standing knee-deep in a stream. She wears only her shift, which she has pulled up to her groin as though she was going to take it off.
Although many people in the Stuart era believed that soaking in water was not good for one’s health, others nevertheless did enjoy cleanliness and nice smells. Hannah Woolley, a sort of Stuart-era Nigella Lawson, advised plucking armpit hairs and then washing with a mixture of white wine and rosewater. I cannot attest as to whether this works, but surely washing the underarms at all was better than not doing so. From what relatively little information historians can gather about intimate personal ablutions, uncleanliness naturally led to disease. Presumably urinary tract infections were common, and without antibiotics, the ones that didn’t clear up on their own could lead to kidney infection and death. Even in the twenty-first century, such infections are common, even though we are much more hygienic than our Stuart-era ancestors.
88. BAROQUE ART WAS VOLUPTUOUS AND EXTRAVAGANT
Caravaggio, Artemisia Gentileschi, Rubens, Lely, Beale, Jordaens, Rembrandt, van Dyck, Vermeer, Velázquez. These are just some of the famous great artists who painted during the Baroque movement, which lasted from around 1600 to as late as the mid-1700s. Baroque art was often over-the-top and elaborate – the antithesis of postmodern minimalism. Baroque artwork swept through Europe in a riot of colour and movement.
Peter Paul Rubens (1577–1640), a Flemish Baroque artist, was quite possibly the most influential painter of the time and a major figure in the Counter-Reformation movement. A few of his most popular works include Samson and Delilah (1609–10), Le Chapeau de Paille (1622–5) and The Garden of Love (1633–4). Rubens’ human figures were often very plump and this is where the term ‘Rubenesque’ comes from. Rubens also painted landscapes with charming bucolic scenes that undoubtedly influenced the subsequent Rococo art movement.
Cornelius Johnson (1593–1661), was an English-born painter who created some truly lovely portraits of Charles I’s eldest children. Unfortunately, Johnson, for all his talent, is often overlooked in favour of his contemporary, van Dyck. Anthony van Dyck (1599–1641), another Flemish artist, was a younger contemporary of Rubens. Van Dyck is best remembered for the various equestrian portraits of his royal patron, King Charles I. In the 1630s, van Dyck painted many portraits of various members of the Caroline court. The most striking portraits of this time include Lord John Stuart and his Brother, Lord Bernard Stuart (c. 1638).
Peter Lely (1618–80) was a German-born Dutch Baroque painter who became a very in-demand portraitist during the reign of King Charles II of England. Peter Lely is best known for his series known as The Windsor Court Beauties, which were portraits of the great beauties of the second Charles’s court. Lely is also known for his painting Two Ladies of the Lake Family from 1660. Lely also painted several topless portraits of Nell Gwynn and she was his model for his painting Portrait of a Young Lady and Child as Venus and Cupid.
Diego Rodríguez de Silva y Velázquez (1599–1660), a Spanish Baroque painter, was a court painter for the Hapsburgs in Spain. He is famed for great paintings such as Las Meninas, The Surrender of Breda and The Rokeby Venus. This latter painting, which was created in around 1647–50, was eventually exhibited at the National Gallery in London. In 1914, militant Suffragette Mary Richardson savagely attacked the Venus with a meat cleaver, causing huge damage to the priceless work of art. It was carefully restored, but even today, if you look at it up close and at a certain angle, you can still see signs of the attack.
Willem van de Velde the Elder and his son, Willem van de Velde the Younger, were two of the most important painters of Dutch marine paintings of the Baroque. Dutch influence in the art world was great at this time, for the Dutch in the seventeenth century had what’s become known as the De Gouden Eeuw (Dutch Golden Age). This father-and-son team had their own art studio in the Queen’s House in Greenwich.
89. CHILDBIRTH WAS OFTEN FATAL – TO MOTHER AND CHILD ALIKE
The prevailing mind-set of the Stuart era was that a woman needed regular intercourse for the sake of her health, which benefited from her husband’s semen. Pregnancy, being the usual outcome of such activity, was a common and regular fact of life for married women in the Stuart period. Male orgasm and ejaculation was not considered sufficient to impregnate, but mutual orgasm was. Childbirth in the Stuart age (as usual throughout most of history) was often a matter of life and death, not only for the mother but the child as well. These were the days long before epidurals, before hospital births, and before proper postpartum care. Even if the baby had a normal delivery, the mother was still at risk of puerperal fever also known as childbed fever. If, however, the baby was in a difficult position, perhaps a breeched birth, this presented more problems. If thought necessary, a caesarean section would be performed.
Nicholas Culpepper’s A Directory for Midwives or A Guide for Women in their Conception, Bearing, and Suckling their Children was published in 1651. This guide contains information on the anatomy of male and female sexual organs, gives advice on what can facilitate conception, and is largely supportive of female midwives. In contrast to Culpepper’s views, William Harvey, the discoverer of blood circulation, published De generatione animalium, in which he opines that midwives aren’t worth the trouble and women are better without them. He may have had a point, for midwives were very proactive in the birthing room. They were known use a sharp nail to break the membrane, and sometimes their interference inadvertently caused the baby’s death. There was also increasing resentment from female midwives against male physicians who had been able to attend university.
Birthing chairs were constructed from wood and were adjustable and had a large opening on the seat where the baby could be passed through. In some ways, these chairs were better than the flat beds many women used to give birth in later periods. Aristocratic women would have a lying-in period. During this time, she was expected to buy items such as swaddling clothes and more linen and also to have refreshments available for the women who would come and sit with her during this time. Women further down the socioeconomic scale would usually be given aid from their local church. But having all the material comforts in the world didn’t guarantee a trouble-free birth. Charles II’s wife, Catherine of Braganza, had several unfortunate episodes in her quest to provide an heir to the throne.
Stillbirths and miscarriages were common. Even those who made it through the ordeal of birth weren’t out of danger. Infant mortality during the Stuart era was high, and children were considered lucky if they managed to survive childhood. There were so many diseases that could kill: measles, smallpox and a whole host of diseases that could cause fever and death. Birth in the Stuart era was deadly for mother and child, but then again, it always had been.
90. THE DIVINE RIGHT OF KINGS WASN’T SO DIVINE – IT PROVED PROBLEMATIC
The controversial doctrine of the Divine Right of Kings held that a king had been chosen by God, and therefore was not answerable to anyone but God. A common myth surro
unding this ideology is that it was something that only pertained to the Stuarts. This simply isn’t the case. The belief in the Divine Right of Kings was very common throughout the ruling houses of Europe in the seventeenthcentury, and indeed before. Elizabeth I believed in the divinity of kings, which is why she found it difficult to send her cousin Mary Queen of Scots to her death. French King Henry III sent his ambassador Mauvissiére to Elizabeth to remind her that Mary was born a princess and as such was exempt from human authority. Later on in the seventeenth century, French King Louis XIV ruled very much in keeping with divine-right beliefs, even being called ‘The Sun King’.
In 1598, James VII of Scotland (later James I of England) wrote The True Law of Free Monarchies. In this, James argued that kings became kings through the will of God, and as such were answerable to God alone and not man. Again, nothing new whatsoever from what other sovereigns in Europe believed. Logically, this meant that if a person acted against the wishes of the sovereign they were acting against the wishes of God, which was therefore sacrilege. In 1599, James followed up with Basilikon Doron, which was given to his son Henry and upon Henry’s death, to Charles. The Basilikon Doron was again very supportive of the doctrine of the Divine Right of Kings, but was also a collection of advice from father to son on how to be a good king.
Charles I grew up with this belief firmly entrenched into his being. As king, he strongly believed that his will was to be accepted without question. He was gobsmacked when some in parliament didn’t agree with this. He closed Parliament and began what’s called his Personal Rule (also known as the Eleven Years’ Tyranny). Things were fine for him for a while, until he needed money. This, combined with Charles’s stubborn support of Arminianism and people such as Archbishop Laud, ultimately led to civil war and Charles’s execution. His belief was the reason why Charles refused to even attempt to defend himself when he was on trial for treason. After all, a king could not commit treason.
Monarchs were not alone in believing their rule was ordained by God, for many of their subjects believed it as well. The Divine Right of Kings ideology did not end with Charles I. His sons Charles II and James II both believed in it, although Charles was less conspicuous about it than James proved to be. The Divine Right of Kings theory took another blow when James II lost his throne to William and Mary. This created an uncomfortable situation for some members of the clergy, who ended up unable to give their support to the new rulers.
91. HENRY PURCELL RULED SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY ENGLISH BAROQUE MUSIC
Henry Purcell, whom we believe to have been born in 1659, remains one of the greatest of all English composers. That being said, we know surprisingly little about his personal life. Purcell was a child prodigy, able to play several instruments and compose music. He attended Westminster School and was a pupil of English Baroque composer John Blow, and was for a time a chorister and then organist at the Chapel Royal. By the age of just twenty, he was organist of Westminster Abbey. Purcell eventually found a royal patron in King Charles II, under whom he wrote many works.
The range of his musical composition was impressive. Purcell had the ability to convey the depths of tragedy (‘When I am Laid in Earth’ from Dido and Aeneas) to the comical (‘I’m drunk’ from The Fairy Queen). The Fairy Queen was based on William Shakespeare’s comedy A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Dido and Aeneas was an important work of English Baroque opera. Purcell also wrote secular music, sacred music, and all to a very high standard. He wrote incidental music for nearly fifty plays, including Aphra Behn’s Abdelazer: Or The Moor’s Revenge, for which he wrote the unforgettable Rondeau, famously used in the television series The First Churchills.
When James II came to power, Purcell appears to have taken a slight dive in popularity with the new king. Purcell was a Protestant, and the king was increasingly favouring Catholics in his reign. His popularity was once again in the ascendant when William and Mary came to the throne in 1689. In Queen Mary II, Purcell found a much more enthusiastic patroness. He wrote several birthday odes for Queen Mary II including, Love’s Goddess sure was Blind. In 1692, he wrote An Ode for St. Cecilia’s Day, which was very popular. Arguably his greatest achievement, the Funeral Music for Queen Mary II – which was performed at her funeral in March of 1695 – has all the elements that would later make Mozart’s Requiem so brilliant: stateliness, a haunting poignancy and unforgettable melodies.
The Indian Queen proved to be Purcell’s last and unfinished semi-opera, and was completed by his younger brother, another talented composer, Daniel Purcell. For some years tuberculosis was considered the probable cause, but Purcell’s biographer Maureen Duffy suggests influenza, which in turn led to bronchitis or pneumonia. We may never know exactly what led to his death in 1695, but there were various rumours, including a popular but probably apocryphal story that he came home late on a rainy night only to find that his wife, Frances, had locked him out of the house.
Purcell was buried in Westminster Abbey, where a fittingly elaborate monument was erected to mark his grave. Across the street from New Scotland Yard in London stands a modern art sculpture dedicated to Purcell and entitled The Flowering of the Baroque Mind. Purcell’s story also found its way onto the screen in the film England, My England.
92. THE GREAT PLAGUE WAS PRETTY NASTY
Plague is one of the most lethal diseases in human history. Symptoms of plague include fever, buboes (painful swellings of the lymph nodes), vomiting and finally death – and all this takes either between three to five days or up to two weeks. It is generally believed that there were three variants of the plague. The Bubonic plague, as mentioned before, was most common during this outbreak; next was the pneumonic plague, which would attack the lungs and was almost certainly fatal; and finally, septicaemic plague, which went into the bloodstream and could quickly become deadly. The plague epidemic that swept through London in 1665 was the worst outbreak the city had faced since the Black Death of 1348. Plague spread from fleas on rats (although new research suggests that gerbils may have been the original carriers), and these would carry the bacterium Yersinia pestis. Plague had been an intermittent problem throughout the Stuart age, cropping up from time to time, but this was different.
The Turks and the Dutch had already had bad outbreaks of plague earlier in the 1660s, and with the increase in trading routes, it’s no surprise that the disease turned up in Britain. In London, the insalubrious slums of St Giles-in-the-Fields were the first place where the dreadful contagion began to show up. Those who could leave London did; the royal court moved out of the city. Queen Catherine and her ladies travelled to Tunbridge. Infected houses were marked with a red cross on the door, and the words ‘God have mercy on us’ would also be placed here. Sick persons were taken to the pest houses. On Monday 26 June, 1665, Pepys wrote in his Diary that ‘the plague increases mightily’, followed the next day by ‘in my way to Westminster Hall, I observed several plague houses in King’s street’.
The common belief at this time was that plague was spread by foul smells, and so to counteract this, fumigation was considered the best deterrent. Fumigation involved burning strong-smelling things such as brimstone, amber and saltpetre. Those who were plague doctors wore beak-shaped masks and the beak would be filled with sweet-smelling herbs – again, with the belief that this would prevent contagion. With this idea in mind, many people (including children) took up smoking tobacco, believing again that this would halt the disease from entering their lungs. Fumigation and smoking weren’t the only preventative measures that were used, for stray dogs and cats were slaughtered as well.
While the mortality rate was pretty bad, not everyone who contracted the plague died. Prince Rupert’s younger brother Maurice contracted it during the English Civil War and survived. Some even survived in the pest houses and were given a certificate that they were cleared of the plague. At its peak, 7,000 people died from the plague each week. It is estimated that over 100,000 people may have died from this episode of plague. The Great Fire of London u
ltimately destroyed the foul dwellings that had been so perfect for the spreading of disease in 1666.
93. SIR JOHN VANBRUGH WROTE NAUGHTY PLAYS AND DESIGNED STATELY BUILDINGS
Sir John Vanbrugh was born in 1664 and was, like many of his contemporaries, a man who was very good at several things. As part of the generation who grew up under the wing of Sir Christopher Wren, Vanbrugh learned from some of the best architects of his age. He often collaborated with Nicholas Hawksmoor on various architectural designs. Together, they designed Castle Howard, Blenheim Palace and the Orangery at Kensington Palace. It was during his time as the main architect of Blenheim Palace that he quit the job because of Lady Marlborough’s overbearing and dictatorial manner. Hawksmoor had to continue where Vanbrugh left off.
Architecture was just one of Vanbrugh’s pursuits. He loved the theatre and was both a playwright and theatre manager – most notably of the Queen’s Theatre in Haymarket, London. Although this theatre burnt down in the eighteenth century, Her Majesty’s Theatre (where Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Phantom of the Opera has been since 1986) has been on the site since 1897. Vanbrugh’s plays were reputed to be rather naughty and created a good deal of controversy because of their explicit sexuality. In 1696, he wrote The Relapse, which is about a reformed rake, Loveless, who despite being married to Amanda suffers a relapse when he falls for Berinthia. In 1697, his play The Provoked Wife provoked a stir, as the comedy was about a lady in an abusive relationship.
He was also a political man, having been supportive of the Glorious Revolution in the late 1680s. He spent some time in the Bastille prison in Paris on a charge of espionage. Vanbrugh was also a member of the Kit-Kat Club (a Whig-heavy early-eighteenth-century drinking club), and the most popular portrait of him is from a series of portraits that Sir Godfrey Kneller painted of the club’s members. This striking portrait, with Vanbrugh in his prime, now hangs in the National Portrait Gallery in London.
The Stuarts in 100 Facts Page 14
