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Monthly Archives: May 2018

I know that one of the things we all love is peeresses in the their own right. I’ve been preparing for a workshop on the inheritance of titles in the UK, and I’ve come across a couple of cool and illustrative cases (this one is extra cool because it happens three times!). The Earl of Sutherland is a title in the Peerage of Scotland. It was created circa 1230 for William de Moravia.

The first Countess of Sutherland in her own right was Elizbeth de Moravia, the 10th Countess (younger sister of the 9th Earl). She held the title from 1470-1535. There doesn’t seem to have been any fuss about her inheriting. She married a younger son of the Earl of Huntley and their male descendants went on to hold the title until the 18th Earl died without a male heir.

Elizabeth, 19th Countess of Sutherland

You can read about the case for the 18th Earl’s daughter inheriting on Google Books in Proceedings Relating to the Peerage of Scotland, 1707-1788 (starts on p. 354). Lady Elizabeth was five when some douchebag tried to claim her title by making out that his bastard ancestor was in fact legitimate under Scottish law (he wasn’t). But her guardians were having none of it! There were also two other men who made claims but then threw their weight behind Sir Robert’s claim (anyone should have the title but the girl!).

“On 26th March, a Petition of his Grace John Duke of Atholl, Charles Earl of Elgin and Kincardine, the Honourable James Wemyss of Wemyss, Sir David Dalrymple of Hailes, Baronet, Sir Adam Fergusson of Kilkerran, Baronet, Alexander Boswell of Auchinleck, Esq; and John Makenzie of Delvin, Esq; Guardians to Elizabeth, claiming the title and dignity of Countess of Sutherland, was presented and read …”

At this point, the House of Lords threw up their collective hands and delayed until the next session, telling everyone to get their ducks in a row and prepare for the Select Committee on Privileges. When the Committee finally convened, it requested additional proofs to be printed and lodged at least fourteen days before the hearing. They further ordered that the agents of the claimants (all claimants have a solicitor acting for them) exchange with each other the case they intended to print beforehand so they could answer it.

After almost two years of back and forth, the Committee decided in favor of Lady Elizabeth, the legitimate daughter of the previous earl. So, Elizabeth, 19th Countess of Sutherland (Peerage of Scotland) grew up and married George Granville Leveson-Gower in 1785; he inherited the title of Marquess of Stafford from his father in 1803. He was made Duke of Sutherland in 1833 (Peerage of the United Kingdom).

Their son thus inherited the Earldom of Sutherland from his mother and the Dukedom of Sutherland from his father. The two titles continued united until the death of the fifth duke. The earldom then passed to his niece Elizabeth, who became the 24th Countess of Sutherland in 1921 (the heir apparent is her son).

So there you have it, the THREE suo jure Countesses of Sutherland.

 

 

 

If this were Regency times, I wouldn’t be putting my thoughts into writing today. Given the medical misfortunes I’ve suffered recently, I would be dead. Sobering, right? Let me tell you, right now my appreciation for a certain Regency doctor and his contributions to modern medicine is boundless. I’ll get to the part where Princess Charlotte fits in shortly. Bear with me!

Diane’s March 5th post about the Brontes and the ways disease decimated their family was a vivid reminder of how far modern medicine has come in the understanding, prevention and treatment of diseases. I am thanking God and the stars right now for the similar advancement in medical tools and techniques, and understanding of the human body. In particular (and also most appropriately in this year of 2018), I am grateful for Dr. James Blundell, who was so horrified by the frequent deaths of women from bleeding after childbirth that he managed to re-open the medical world to studying the possibilities of blood transfusions.

To really understand what he accomplished we need to briefly look back further. You see, medical researchers in the mid-1600’s had tried to investigate and study the idea of transferring blood to help save lives. Unfortunately, most of their results had been pretty disastrous. This led authorities in France (the Chamber of Deputies), England (the Royal Society of London), and even the Pope (Papal Edict of 1678) to formally prohibit any further experimentation or study on the transfusion of blood.

Fast forward 150 years, and enter our hero, Dr Blundell. Born in 1790, he became a prominent London obstetrician, studying under Sir Astley Cooper, known for his achievements in vascular surgery, and also under his uncle, Dr. John Haighton, focusing on midwifery and physiology. He attended the University of Edinburgh, obtaining his medical degree in 1813. He returned to London to begin his medical practice and was recognized as a lecturer with his uncle on the topics of physiology (1816) and midwifery (1817) at the combined schools of St. Thomas’ and Guy’s Hospital in London.

Post-partum hemorrhage was a common cause of death for women after childbirth and the lack of remedy for it horrified the young obstetrician, sources say. I believe it is no coincidence that Dr Blundell was moved to break the 150-year-old taboo on studying blood transfusion after such a much-loved and very public figure as Princess Charlotte died from post-partum hemorrhaging in November of 1817 while her physicians stood by helplessly.

With his star on the rise, at the age of 27, Blundell had perhaps both more to lose and more potential for success than more established physicians of the period. All in the following year, he performed the first known successful blood transfusion, using a husband as donor for his wife, published an important paper titled “Experiments on the Transfusion of Blood by the Syringe” and was named a licentiate of the Royal College of Physicians.

Blundell modestly claimed he investigated the transfusion of blood “with a view of keeping this valuable option before the profession in the hope of adding something to the body of facts.” He performed 10 blood transfusions between 1825 and 1830, with a 50% success rate.

Throughout the Regency period and beyond, Dr Blundell continued to have a major impact on the field of medicine, and not just in the area of blood transfusions. Frustrated by the limited tools he had to work with, he devised new tools and methods, and his research also opened up new areas of study, particularly that of abdominal surgery. He became the sole lecturer on his topics at St. Thomas’ and Guy’s upon his uncle’s death in 1823. His lectures were collected and published in several versions during the 1830’s, culminating with “The Principles and Practices of Obstetricy as at Present Taught by Dr. James Blundell” (1834).

Two years later, however, the doctor had an “irreconcilable” dispute with the administration at Guy’s Hospital and retired from teaching at the age of 46. He did continue his private practice, and was made a Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians in 1838.

The biography of Blundell by Stacy L. Adams at the Healio.com website has this to say about Blundell’s later life: “Often referred to as eccentric, in his later years Blundell had both interesting and unusual sleeping patterns. He rose midday and saw patients in his home in the afternoon hours. After dining he began a round of house calls as late as 8 p.m. or 9 p.m. He carried many books with him, which he read between calls by the interior light affixed to his carriage. Blundell retired in 1847 and moved to a large house in Piccadilly, London, where he lived in relative anonymity. He died on Jan. 15, 1878.”

Would Dr. James Blundell have been inspired and horrified enough to pursue his “forbidden” research in 1818 without the public tragedy of Princess Charlotte’s death? Who can say? I am eternally grateful that he did. When a “simple” surgical procedure I had at the beginning of March went horribly awry, I was able to have five blood transfusions over about as many days until my doctors were finally able to stop my internal bleeding. Without Blundell’s discoveries about many aspects of transfusion (which I’ve not gone into here), doctors who came after him would not have made the discoveries they did, including the typing of blood (c. 1900) or the importance of matching donor/patient blood types, or even the development of blood banks. Do you think Dr. Blundell could ever have imagined his work leading to anything like those?

I do want to give a shout out to all the people who donate blood to blood banks around the country. Are you a blood donor? What do you think about that? You never know when the life you save could be that of someone you know. Someone’s gift of blood saved me –along with all these other historical matters! If you are healthy and able to give blood, I hope each of you reading this post will consider donating the next time a blood drive happens in your area. Think of poor tragic Princess Charlotte and heroic Dr. James Blundell, forging ahead where no one dared to go for 150 years before him. Thank you!

It’s May. It’s May. The lusty month of May
That lovely month when everyone goes blissfully astray…

from Camelot, Lerner and Loewe

Happy May! I don’t know about the rest of you, but here in Virginia we finally have our beautiful May when the cherry blossoms flutter to the ground while the dogwood and azalea bloom. The trees have those bright green new leaves and the grass is thick.

No wonder May Day festivities are common in lots of places.

I’m revisiting an old blog posting of mine about May Day festivities in the UK. Here it is, slightly altered for today.

May Day festivities in the UK have their roots in the spring fertility festivals of the Celts and Anglo Saxons. And today villages and towns still celebrate with May Poles, May Queens, and Morris dancing.

May Day celebrations in the Regency were less popular, but festivals in some towns and villages continued to celebrate Spring and the beginning of Summer.

Here’s a blog on All Things Georgian about May Day in Georgian times.

May Day is also called Garland Day in some places, where children make garlands and use them to decorate various things and march in parades.

Bonfires are often a part of May Day celebrations. Edinburgh marks May Day with the Beltane Fire Festival including dancing and fire displays.

Other celebrations include jumping into water. At the University of St. Andrews, students run naked into the North Sea. In Oxford Magdalen College students leap from Magdalen Bridge into the River Cherwell.

Unfortunately we are a few days to late for another tradition. We ladies should have rushed out to our gardens on May Day and washed our faces with the morning dew. Folklore says that May dew has magical properties and will give you a beautiful complexion all year round.

Oh, darn!

Happy May, everyone!

Hello everybody! Despite appearances, I haven’t actually fallen off the edges of the earth (wheee!); instead, I got a new day job at the beginning of the new year, and it’s taken me a while to get used to the new rhythm of my daily life.

What’s really exciting about this life with the new day job is that for the first time in my adult life, I actually have free weekends, which leaves me with enough time for all kinds of fun things.

Like a tablet weaving workshop.

(Tablet-what?!?)

It’s a really old technique for weaving ribbons and fabric borders. The oldest archaeological finds date to 900-800 BC, but murals found in Greece suggest that tablet weaving might even be older and might have been used to create ribbons as early as 1500 BC. Iron Age Celts certainly loved it, as did Germanic tribes and the Vikings later on. In Europe the craft continued to be popular until the 15th century, when it started to slowly disappear.

A collage of three pictures: one showing the empty loom with the balls of cotton thread lying next to it. The second showing the main gate of the Saalburg, a reconstructed Roman auxiliary fort. The third showing the loom with the warp threads running through the holes in the tablets.

“Tablet” in this context refers to flat pieces of bark, bone, stone, leather, horn, wood, or (more recently) cardboard into which holes have been drilled. Through these, the warp is threaded. When you then turn the tablets, different threads are lifted, and by using various colors for the warp, patterns are created.

Traditionally, the weavers would have tied one end of the warp around their belt and the other around a piece of furniture, a pole, or perhaps their own foot, but these days, small looms are available, which make the whole process a lot more comfortable.
If you ever manage to thread them, that is.

When I attended the aforementioned workshop, the threading of the dratted loom took me half a day, and at times, I was ready to give the whole thing up, go home, and have a good cry.

But once you have managed to thread the dratted thing, it is very easy to create simple patterns – though as a beginner you will inevitably struggle with tension, knobbly edges, and, worst of all, loose threads. And if you’re really lucky, you even manage to pull some of the warp threads off the loom! Hooray!

But all the trouble is worth it at the end: Not only can you create the most intricate patterns with tablet weaving, but the resulting ribbons are also very strong and sturdy. And who knows? While you’re weaving you might even make new friends as you and your neighbor commiserate over the tribulations with the tablets.

And this, really, was one of the main reasons for me to take the workshop: I wanted to explore an old craft that would have brought women together in the past. I find it fascinating to explore explore female communities – and as all crafters know, pattern swapping is a great way to strengthen communal bonds! 🙂

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