Norman Cross Depot - A new idea...

Norman Cross Depot, near Peterborough, Huntingdonshire, was one of the first purpose-built prisoner of war camps in the world. Until its construction, prisoners from the Napoleonic Wars on European soil had been brought to Britain and housed wherever was convenient--castles, villages, prisons and hulks. It is estimated that over 12,000 Frenchmen died in prison ships between 1803 and 1814.

The housing of prisoners of war was long overdue for improvement. The Royal Navy Transport Board was in charge of prisoners of war. Norman Cross Depot aimed to improve their living conditions, and though it could house only some 5000 men, it was intended as a model for all such prisons to follow.

 The depot was based on the form of an artillery fort. It had a ditch, a stockade and sentries for security and a central guard house, complete with cannon. Being in the north of England, it was thought far enough from France that prisoners could not easily flee home.

The depot was divided into four, with accommodation blocks and 'ablution' blocks in each. There was good water, and plentiful food prepared by cooks from among their number. Prisoners were clothed in a yellow suit and a red waistcoat to facilitate discovery should they escape. Escape attempts were frequent; very few of them were successful. During a search in 1808, some 700 daggers were discovered.

a museum model of Norman Cross Depot

Boredom was the chief enemy of the prisoners. They were given books, and if they could not read and write they were offered instruction. Gambling was endemic, and losses resulted in a great many hungry prisoners as they wagered their food. They also wagered their clothing, and naked, freezing prisoners were not uncommon. The most successful prisoners turned to arts and crafts, and created astonishing works of art which they could sell to local people.

Model, now in Danish museum, created by prisoner of war

This website http://napoleonic-pow.blogspot.ca has more illustrations of the prisoners' handiwork.

It occurs to me to wonder what the residents of Peterborough and area thought when plans were unveiled for the building of the prisoner of war camp in their area. Was there a 'nimby' (not in my backyard) reaction?

from Google maps - red balloon marks the site of Norman Cross

Peterborough is a cathedral town, and was a substantial presence in the northern counties during the Regency era. Burghley House, ancestral home of the Cecils, stands nearby, and the River Nene in its valley crosses the fenland. Did people want a prison camp defacing their surroundings? There is no record of dissent, and certainly the camp brought prosperity to some segments of local society. The food purchased by the depot must have supported local farmers, and the other supplies needed probably enriched many local merchants.

Norman Cross Depot was mentioned in several of the magazines of the time. Cobbett's Weekly Political Register reported in 1802 that 1000 prisoners were moved from the Depot, eventually to be transported to Dunkirk. The Criminal Recorder remarked on the gambling prevalent among the prisoners. The Medical and Physical Journal, volume 12, contains "A Short Statement of the Result in the Practice of the Hospital for Prisoners of War at Norman Cross. Communicated by Leonard Gillespie, appointed Physician to the Fleet in the Mediterranean Sea."

Norman Cross Depot was an important development in the history of war and its effects. It was also a major factor in the social history of the Peterborough area. Given that senior French officers were allowed more freedom in their captivity and sometimes married into local society, detention centres like Norman Cross frequently fire the imaginations of storytellers!

'Til next time,

Lesley-Anne

The Male Domestic in the Regency Era by Guest Blogger Regina Jeffers

The landed aristocrat during the Regency maintained a lifestyle that he could often not well afford. The multiple country estates were a combination of luxury hotel, museum, art gallery, and corporate headquarters. In addition, Society expected him to own a large townhouse in Mayfair. Apart from any questions of status, the aristocrat maintained a large staff to support the upkeep of each of his properties and to see to the real and sometimes unreal needs of his family and guests.

The number of employed servants can be seen as extravagant in retrospect. The Duke of Westminster, as well as the sixth Duke of Portland, was said to have employed 300 servants, the same number as Queen Victoria. The Duke of Richmond and Gordon had a modest staff of 38 men and women in his employ. The normal range was 40-50 in service in the typical household. The number of male servants defined the finer homes for a tax on male servants was introduced by Lord North in 1777 to help pay for the cost of fighting the Americans. During the Napoleonic Wars, the tax reached a figure of £7 per year for each male servant beyond eleven in a household.

From 1786 to 1869, the cost of keeping powdered footmen was also increased by a duty on hair powder. Some employers forced their footmen to economize by using flour instead of hair powder. Unfortunately for the aristocrat, some footmen collected their £1 or £2 allowance for hair powder while actually using flour.

The daily powdering of the hair was an undignified and unpleasant process. A stiff lather was achieved by combining soap and water, which was then carefully combed through the hair so that the tooth marks showed in even rows before the powder was applied. Before he could find his nightly sleep, the footman had to wash his hair and apply an oil to protect it from falling out.

The specially tailored livery that footmen wore also was an expensive outlay for aristocratic households. In most households, footmen received two suits per year. By the mid 1800s, a footman’s suit cost 3 guineas at Doudneys of Old Bond Street and the Burlington Arcade.

Some male servants went the way of their powdered wigs: for example, the running footman, who kept a steady pace of 7 mph, as he ran in front of his master’s coach, disappeared from the British way of life. In execution of his duties, the running footman paused periodically for a sip of white wine mixed with egg, which he kept in a silver, ball-shaped container at the end of his staff. Male cooks also became a rarity. Only the wealthiest among the aristocracy could afford to employ a full range of house steward, groom of the chambers, valet, cook, butler, under butler, footman, usher, page, tiger, coachman, grooms, and gardeners.

Footmen were matched for height, coloring, and looks. Most were over six foot in height, and it was a common practice for the taller men to receive a few extra pounds each year as a sort of “bonus.” They were trained to walk and act in unison. The best households had three footmen. No matter his Christian name, the first footman was known as “James.” He would act as the lady’s footman: preparing her breakfast tray, walking her dog, brushing the mud from her hems, cleaning her shoes, and accompanying her upon her days out. The second footman would lay the luncheon table, act as valet to the eldest son, and clean all the mirrors in the house. The third footman did a variety of jobs, as he often acted as an apprentice to the first two. The first and second footman also waited upon table. All three cleaned the valuable gold and silver plate.

Often a footman aspired to become a valet. However, to be a valet, the footman must have been, at least, 30 years of age. Many times, the footman did not possess the education in order to assume the position. One must remember that a valet achieved a certain superficial gentility through his master’s status in Society. Livery was not required, and the valet would dress as a well-to-do man-about-town. His main duty was to see that his master appeared to best advantage in the world. Often times, his employer depended on him to be aware of Social connections and the latest gossip and to serve as his advisor. The valet was expected to have a basic command of several foreign languages and know something about sporting equipment. Because of these requirements, it was difficult for a footman to become an upper servant.

~~~

The Disappearance of Georgiana Darcy by Regina Jeffers
How can Darcy keep his sister safe from the most sinister threat she has ever faced when he doesn’t even know if she’s alive? True to Austen’s style and rife with malicious villains, dramatic revelations and heroic gestures, this suspense-packed mystery places Darcy and Elizabeth in the most harrowing situation they have ever faced – finding Georgiana before it is too late.

  Regina Jeffers, an English teacher for thirty-nine years, considers herself a Jane Austen enthusiast. She is the author of 13 novels, including Darcy’s Passions, Darcy’s Temptation, The Phantom of Pemberley, Christmas at Pemberley, The Scandal of Lady Eleanor, A Touch of Velvet, and A Touch of Cashémere. A Time Warner Star Teacher and Martha Holden Jennings Scholar, as well as a Smithsonian presenter, Jeffers often serves as a media literacy consultant. She resides outside of Charlotte, NC, where she spends time teaching her new grandson the joys of being a child. Visit her at www.rjeffers.com and http://reginajeffers.wordpress.com Follow her on Twitter -- @reginajeffers

Thomas Raikes - The Quintessential Dandy

Thomas Raikes, born in 1777, was a member of that select group of British dandies who stood at the apex of society and surveyed it with both a sneer and a smile. He was a schoolmate and friend of George Brummell, as well as William Arden, 2nd baron Alvanley, Frederick Gerald 'Poodle' Byng, and Berdmore Scrope Davies.

There is only one picture, that I can discover, extant of Raikes. It is a mild caricature by Richard Dighton, titled "One of the Rake's of London". You can view it here at the National Portrait Gallery.

Though he was the son of a merchant banker, Raikes was accepted, apparently without question, into the ranks of the haut ton. He was described as having "risen in the east and set in the west" (the east being the commercial City of London, and the west being the social hub of Mayfair) and was nicknamed 'Apollo' because of it.

In 1856 a portion of his memoirs was published and the Gentlemen's Magazine volume 199, in reviewing the book, said of him:

"...he preferred play to work,; thought the shady side of Pall Mall a pleasanter place than the Exchange, a box at the opera more agreeable than a stool in the counting-house; and considered that spending money was a more charming occupation than earning it."

The Eclectic Magazine of the same period was not so kind:

 "He was neither highly born, nor highly educated, nor highly gifted, nor highly fortuned, nor highly distinguished...Mediocrity was his essence."

Despite these strictures he appears to have been highly respected and well-liked by his friends.

The print above appeared in 1820. Called "Well Known Bond Street Loungers", it depicts left to right: The Earl of Sefton, the Duke of Devonshire, "Poodle" Byng [with his dog], Lord Manners and the Duke of Beaufort. They all were friends or acquaintances of Raikes.

Raikes married in 1802 and, during their twenty year marriage, his wife Sophia presented him with four children. There is no evidence that this was a match of consuming passion, or that Thomas ever allowed his family to interfere with his pleasure. When Sophia died in 1822, Raikes continued with his daily round of clubs and entertainments. He did not begin to keep a journal until late in life, but it never mentioned family life. In it appear, instead, all the most notable characters of the Regency era. Indeed, the Eclectic Magazine claims his memoir includes "...crumbs which ought not to have been swept off the table of life into oblivion."

Among those he recalls are William IV, Talleyrand, Louis Philippe of France, but especially he speaks of his good friend, George Brummell.

"...a spirit of liberality in Brummell, which with all his faults he possessed..."

"Brummell was the supreme dictator, "their club's[Watier's] perpetual president," laying down the law in dress, in manners, and in those magnificent snuffboxes, for which there was a rage; he fomented the excesses, ridiculed the scruples, patronised the novices, and exercised paramount dominion over all." I sense a wistful envy in these words, as if Raikes would like to have done all these things, if only he could have been bothered.

But it was his very quiet and trustworthy nature that seems to have drawn the famous and infamous to him. His name appeared regularly in White's Betting Book,  but never in more scandalous on-dits. Even the notorious Harriette Wilson said of him,

"Not that Tom Raikes ever did anything bad enough..."

Faint praise indeed! His bonhomie, and his wit made him a favourite of all. He admired wit; he recounts Talleyrand's bon mots. and delights in this story of Brummell:

Brummell [said] to a very disagreeable man who talked of keeping a coach for his friends, 'Ah! You may keep a vis-a-vis, and you will always have a vacant place.'

Thomas Raikes travelled widely in his life: a grand tour with a private tutor beginning in 1795, and later The Hague, Paris and Russia. In 1832 it seems financial embarrassments took him to France to live for some eight years.

 In 1842 he returned to England and he died in Brighton in July 1848 having outlived most of his old friends. The Gentlemen's Magazine says of him:

In short, Mr. Raikes became "a man about town," and few men were better known, or in his immediate circle, more highly respected."

If he did no good, at least he did no harm. There are certainly worse epitaphs. He deserves, I think, to be more widely remembered among Regency aficionados. A search on his name in Google Books, will bring up his extant writings.

Next week, guest blogger Regina Jeffers will be here discussing "The Male Domestic in the Regency Era." Regina is a self-described Jane Austen enthusiast and the author of thirteen novels. She was formerly an English teacher and now often serves as a media literacy consultant. Please visit her at her website – www.rjeffers.com and her blog – http://reginajeffers.wordpress.com

'Til next time,

Lesley-Anne