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Get a glimpse into Cornwall’s mining past, against the dramatic coastline of Poldark country. BBC History Revealed takes you on a tour of Botallack Mine…
Cornwall has a colourful history of smuggling, piracy and mining, and though much of the landscape has been left unspoilt, there are many remnants of its industrial past. This dramatic coastline was the inspiration for Winston Graham’s Poldark novels, set in 18th-century Cornwall and which have since been made into a BBC TV series. The Tin Coast – part of the Cornwall and West Devon Mining Landscape World Heritage site – still retains glimpses of Cornwall’s tin and copper mining heritage. Running from St Just to Pendeen, along the west coast, Botallack is considered one of the best preserved examples of a Cornish tin mine. Early records suggest there was tin mining in the area from at least the 1500s, but evidence of Cornish tin trading dates back thousands of years. Poldark’s Cornwall: the history behind the hit series A visit to St Fagans National Museum of History, Cardiff Poldark, Peaky Blinders and 6 other historical TV shows that have tourists flocking to Britain Archaeological evidence indicates that tin may have been mined here as long ago as the Roman era or even Bronze Age. By the 19th century, there were more than 2,000 tin mines in the county. Botallack, near St Just, is a former submarine mine, meaning its tunnels stretch out under the sea, in this case for around half a mile. Miners mostly relied on hammers, chisels and gunpowder to get the ore out of the ground. It’s believed that during the mine’s lifetime, 14,500 tonnes of tin and 20,000 tonnes of copper were produced at Botallack, as well as 1,500 tones of arsenic. This poisonous element – a by-product of tin and copper mining – was used in paint until the end of the 19th century, and in weed killers until the 1940s. Mining was already a dangerous occupation, but this added hazard meant that miners had to ensure that any exposed skin was covered in clay, and that they covered their mouth and nose with rags. Conditions in the mines were extreme – temperatures would soar quickly and ventilation was poor. The only light was from candles, which were often blown out by draughts. !e ladders used to descend down the shafts could also be precarious as one wrong step or broken rung could equal a devastating fall. !ose working above ground – often women – escaped the terrors below, but were still exposed to the harsh elements of the Atlantic coast. The ruins at Botallack include the engine houses of the Crowns mine as well as the remnants of Wheal Owles mine, where tragedy struck in 1893. In January of that year, it was closed permanently after the shaft flooded, killing 19 men and a young boy. The count house at Botallack was used as an office for the purser – the person in charge of accounts and financial matters – and managerial staff at the mine. It was also where the miners collected their wages. The house was grand in its design, compared to others in the area – this was intended to instil faith in the mine in the minds of the shareholders. The count house workshop now serves tea and cake for visitors to the Cornish coast, but it was once a stable for the mine horses and the carpenter’s workshop. A pumping engine was built at the base of the cliffs in the early 1800s, but this was later replaced by the engine houses that can still be seen today. Known as the Crowns Pumping Engine Houses, they perch precariously on the cliffside. Their dramatic location makes them a popular photograph opportunity and has seen them become television stars. In the current BBC series Poldark, the ruins around Botallack play a starring role as Wheal Leisure, the mine that Ross Poldark resurrects on his return to England. Botallack was also used during the filming of the original 1970s series. Botallack mine closed in 1895 due to a decrease in tin and copper prices. Many other mines across Cornwall had already closed by this time. Did you know? Visitors to Botallack increased after 1865, when the Prince and Princess of Wales – later Edward VII and Queen Alexandra – paid a visit. So many people wanted to follow in their royal footsteps that the mine began charging a guinea per head for a tour. 3 more historical sites in Cornwall Levant mine For avid Poldark fans, the nearby Levant Mine is another series filming location – it was the Tressiders Rolling Mill. Ballowall Barrow Perched on the edge of the cliffs is an intriguing Bronze Age tomb where pottery and bones have been found. St Michaels' Mount Across the water from Penzance lies the tidal island and castle of St Michael’s Mount – legendary home of the giant from the fairy-tale Jack the Giant Killer. This article was first published in the September 2019 issue of BBC History Revealed
Poldark, Peaky Blinders and 6 other historical TV shows that have tourists flocking to Britain
As the backdrop to Ross Poldark's shirtless shenanigans in the hit period drama Poldark, Cornwall has seen a huge influx of tourists looking to visit the show's scenic filming locations. In 2018, tourism chiefs warned that the BBC television drama is putting the county's coastline at risk of "over-tourism". As the fifth and final series of the drama begins, we take a closer look at 'Poldark effect' and the other shows bringing tourists to Britain…
The chief executive of Cornish tourist board Visit Cornwall says the area is struggling to cope with an unprecedented surge in holidaymakers, it was reported in 2018. Visitors were encouraged to look beyond popular Poldark filming locations Porthcurno beach and Kynance Cove, which feature as Poldark’s beloved Nampara. Poldark is reported to have influenced around 14 per cent of all visitors to Cornwall, and businesses have long reported a boost in the number of tourists from overseas because of the so-called ‘Poldark effect’. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2018/05/13492300-low_res-poldark-s3_0-afbf2ae-91687ff.jpg" width="620" height="413" alt="Aidan Turner (as Poldark) and Eleanor Tomlinson (as Demelza) in the BBC period drama ‘Poldark’. (Photo by Mammoth Screen/BBC)" title="Aidan Turner (as Poldark) and Eleanor Tomlinson (as Demelza) in the BBC period drama ‘Poldark’. (Photo by Mammoth Screen/BBC)" /> Poldark is one of many drama series inspiring so-called ‘TV tourism’: in 2018, in its travel trends report, Trip Advisor found that 1 in 5 global travellers visited a location because they saw it on a TV show. Significantly, says Vogue magazine, “TV’s tourism influence is now rivalling that of film – perhaps even surpassing it”. A report from the University of North Texas found that “TV viewing behaviour is the strongest predictor of entertainment-motivated tourism… television series are often watched on regular basis thus, viewers are more likely to be exposed to the destination image for a longer period.” The real history behind Poldark's 18th-century London Poldark’s Cornwall: the history behind the hit series Top 10 historical Cornish words Set in 18th-century Cornwall, the hugely popular BBC One drama Poldark starring Aidan Turner (as Poldark) and Eleanor Tomlinson (as Demelza) draws inspiration from Winston Graham’s 12 novels, which were written between 1945 and 2002. Here, we look at seven other historical TV dramas that are attracting tourists from Britain and beyond... ***Please note this article contains spoilers *** Pride and Prejudice Lyme Park in Disley, Cheshire, which starred as Jane Austen’s Pemberley in the BBC’s adaptation of Pride and Prejudice, enjoyed a 176 per cent increase in visitor numbers after the series aired in 1995. Fans flocked to the lake where, in what has become an iconic scene in television history, Mr Darcy (played by Colin Firth) meets Elizabeth Bennet after emerging from the water in a soaked, clinging white shirt. The scene was in 2013 named the most memorable moment in British TV drama. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2018/08/HDBGW8-7184929.jpg" width="3000" height="2868" alt="Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth in the 1995 BBC adaptation of Jane Austen’s ‘Pride and Prejudice’. (Photo by Everett Collection Inc/Alamy Stock Photo)" title="Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth in the 1995 BBC adaptation of Jane Austen’s ‘Pride and Prejudice’. (Photo by Everett Collection Inc/Alamy Stock Photo)" /> Lyme Park – a stately home on the edge of the Peak District – is still reaping the benefits of Pride and Prejudice 20 years on, the Guardian reported in 2015. “It’s a win-win for us,” said Harvey Edgington, the National Trust’s head of filming and locations. “It’s a very good way of getting people interested in a property.” Peaky Blinders The gritty gangster series set in 1920s Birmingham is filmed predominately at the Black Country Living Museum in Dudley. Open to the public, the museum’s canal arm features as the famous Charlie Strong's Yard, with huge factories added using CGI (computer-generated imagery). Tommy Shelby’s iconic walk past the firing furnaces was filmed at the museum’s Rolling Mill, and the dramatic murder of Father Hughes in the finale of season three was shot in the museum’s St James's School. Peaky Blinders: behind the scenes with creator Steven Knight 14 of the best historical TV shows on Netflix Ruby Sparks: the smash-and-grab gangster Peaky Blinders has also worked wonders for Birmingham’s local economy, with tours, themed restaurants and dedicated pub crawls taking place across the city. One pub in Dale End, in the centre of Birmingham, simply named ‘The Peaky Blinder’, serves a Peaky Blinder cocktail made with whisky and blackcurrant, and its staff dress in Shelby-style attire. Game of Thrones Not exactly a historical drama per se, but the wildly popular Game of Thrones is reported to be worth about £30 million (€34 million) a year to the local economy in Northern Ireland. Tourism NI estimates that around 120,000 Game of Thrones visitors came to Northern Ireland in 2016 to see the real-life Kingsroad or Winterfell, among other sites. Rosemarie McHugh, Tourism NI’s director of product development, told The Irish Times the show has been “transformative” for screen tourism in Northern Ireland. The fantasy drama series is also reported to have helped to turn around Iceland’s struggling economy in the aftermath of the 2008 banking crisis by bolstering its tourism sector. According to FocusEconomics: “Game of Thrones is, at the very least, partly responsible for the major uptick in tourism growth in recent years. Many of Iceland’s glaciers, lakes and national parks serve as the backdrop for the ‘lands beyond the wall’ and the popularity of the show has given rise to massive increases in tourism, as the show’s many diehard fans from around the world make pilgrimages, so to speak, to visit the show’s popular filming locations.” Game of Thrones fans have also been flocking to Dubrovnik, Croatia, which features as King’s Landing. But the mayor of the medieval city last year announced he is considering capping visitors to just 4,000 per day to prevent “ruinous overcrowding”. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2018/08/M23JDM-674a17b.jpg" width="5760" height="3840" alt="Fort Lovrijenac in Dubrovnik Old Town, Croatia, which features as King’s Landing in ‘Game of Thrones’. (Photo by John Dambik/Alamy Stock Photo)" title="Fort Lovrijenac in Dubrovnik Old Town, Croatia, which features as King’s Landing in ‘Game of Thrones’. (Photo by John Dambik/Alamy Stock Photo)" /> The Crown The wildly popular Netflix Original series The Crown, which follows the young Queen Elizabeth II from the 1940s through to modern times, is rumoured to have cost a whopping $130 million to produce – making it the most expensive television show ever made. According to a survey conducted by Barclays bank in 2017, the appeal of the quintessentially British biopic abroad is whetting travellers’ appetites for a UK holiday. Dubbed ‘The Crown effect’, the popularity of the show – plus that of Poldark, Sherlock and Downton Abbey – is encouraging overseas tourists to holiday in places such as the Peak District, the Lake District and the Cotswolds. According to the survey of 10,000 respondents, some 44 per cent of Chinese tourists interested in visiting the UK said television programmes had driven their interest. More than a quarter of Americans planning a UK visit said the same. The first two series of The Crown star Claire Foy as Queen Elizabeth and Matt Smith as Prince Philip. The third series, which will see Olivia Colman and Tobias Menzies take over, is expected to air in 2019. Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip: 8 milestones in their marriage Prince Philip: a life of duty and devotion In profile: Prince Philip Wolf Hall The six-part BBC adaptation of Hilary Mantel’s Booker Prize-winning novels Wolf Hall and Bring Up the Bodies was a huge hit both on and off-screen. Starring Mark Rylance as Thomas Cromwell and Damian Lewis as King Henry VIII, the 2015 drama sent fans flocking to filming locations including Lacock Abbey in Wiltshire, the real-life Wolf Hall; Chastleton House in Oxfordshire, which portrayed scenes from Cromwell’s childhood in Putney; and Montacute House in Somerset, which was used as the setting for Greenwich Palace – Henry VIII’s main London seat and the site of Anne Boleyn’s arrest in Wolf Hall. Around 40 per cent of the shoots in Wolf Hall took place at sites owned by the National Trust, with the location fees providing much-needed income to help maintain the properties. The show’s producer, Mark Pybus, said: “The advantages of filming in a historic location are massive. It also helps the actors, if they’re stepping into the buildings that Henry VIII and Thomas Cromwell walked around in it helps bring a realness to the project.” 11 facts about Anne Boleyn Does historical accuracy really matter in period dramas like Wolf Hall? Not such a prude after all: the secrets of Henry VIII’s love life Outlander The time-travel drama in which a Second World War army nurse is carried back to Scotland in 1743 has brought tourists flocking to the country’s castles and other spots where much of the three series were filmed. According to the ONS Travel Trends 2017 statistics, Doune Castle, which features in the series as the fictional Castle Leoch, has seen a 227 per cent increase in numbers since 2013 when Outlander first aired. The 15th-century Blackness Castle in West Lothian, which featured as the Fort William headquarters of ‘Black Jack’ Randall (Tobias Menzies), attracted a record 43,763 visitors in 2017, while Linlithgow Palace, which is used as Wentworth Prison where Jamie Fraser (Sam Heughan) is imprisoned, welcomed a record 87,254 – up 17 per cent on the previous year, the Daily Express reports. Downton Abbey Highclere Castle was dangerously unstable and parts of the building were deemed uninhabitable when Julian Fellowes began filming his period drama Downton Abbey there in 2010. The stately home, located five miles south of Newbury in Berkshire and owned by George ‘Geordie’ Herbert, 8th Earl of Carnarvon, was facing a near £12m repair bill. “It was just after the banking crisis and it was gloom in all directions,” Lord Carnarvon told the Guardian. “Then Downton came along and it became a major tourist attraction.” Visitor numbers doubled, to 1,200 a day, and Highclere is today one of Britain’s most recognisable stately homes. The success of Downton has funded “a rolling programme of building repairs aimed at safeguarding Highclere for the next generation,” the family said. The Downton cast and crew will return to Highclere in September 2018 to film a feature-length movie. Have your holidays been inspired by a historical drama? Let us know by tweeting us @HistoryExtra or by posting on our Facebook page. You can also share your holiday photos with us on Instagram. Emma Mason is the Digital Editor at HistoryExtra.com
From politics to pleasure gardens: the real history behind Poldark's 18th-century London
The BBC's adaptation of Winston Graham's Poldark novels took viewers into the streets, pleasure gardens and parliament of 18th-century London. What was the thriving capital city like? Hannah Greig, early modern historian and historical advisor to the drama, shares what Ross Poldark would have encountered in the capital
We’re halfway through series four of the BBC’s hit drama Poldark and Winston Graham’s fictional hero, Ross Poldark, has been on the move. Answering the siren call of parliament, he kissed his family goodbye and travelled long-haul, over many days, from Cornwall to London. He returned to his family home, Nampara, and the drama of the mines, but he was soon back in the capital when summoned to parliament once more. Described in contemporary magazines and newspapers as the “vortex of dissipation”, late 18th-century London had a magical appeal – but also an air of danger. By far the largest capital city in Europe, it considerably outstripped all other British towns and was a place like no other. “I can but think London is a kind of mistress,” wrote Lady Anne Irwin from Yorkshire to her father, the 3rd Earl of Carlisle in London. “Dissolute in principle, loose in practice and extravagant in pleasure, and if a man keeps such a Lady he will surely be undone.” Read more: Poldark series 3 recap – what happened and what is the real history behind the hit TV series? Poldark's Cornwall: the history behind the hit series The business of government was just one draw amongst many for men like Poldark, who might attend London to deal with estate business, see lawyers, shop or find a wife, as well as take a seat in parliament. But it was a draw that had a profound impact on London life. Due to constitutional changes introduced from the 1690s, it was in the 18th century that an annual meeting of parliament was established (a feature that has been retained in the British political system ever since). Having previously been summoned and dismissed irregularly at the behest of the monarch, for the first time in history, parliament – consisting of the House of Commons and the House of Lords – was required to meet every year and often sat for between five and seven months, setting the foundations for what would later be called “the London season”. Many MPs (like our fictional hero) left their families and took temporary bachelor lodgings in London to fulfil their parliamentary responsibilities. However, given the length of the stays involved, increasing numbers travelled with their families in tow, uprooting their domestic lives for part of the year to a London town house, which were either owned or rented and in close proximity to the Houses of Parliament. The west end of London – known at the time as the ‘town’ and a counterpart to the financial ‘city’ – visibly swelled to accommodate this seasonal influx. New streets and squares emerged from countless building sites, filling in remaining spaces between Piccadilly and Oxford Street and pushing the boundaries of the capital outwards towards Euston and beyond. The pace of change was highly evident to witnesses. Finding a morning stroll in 1770 interrupted by the appearance of yet another half-built terrace in mid development, one young man Frederick Robinson joked to his brother: “I shall not be surprised if we live to see the Haymarket upon Highgate Hill.” So rapid was the development, Robinson suggested, that famous West End streets like The Haymarket would extend ever further north into the most distant reaches of the bucolic villages such as Highgate, which was then separated from London by miles of open land (and not to mention the highwayman-infested Hampstead Heath). To many, London was alive – a beast growing, shifting and changing year by year, month by month, week by week. The pleasures of the capital Whilst the serious business of politics encouraged an annual pilgrimage to the capital, there were plenty of pleasures on sale and show to occupy the seasonal residents. With a captive market of rich and wealthy clients, luxury trades set up shop in the West End, creating the hub of high-end jewellers, gentlemen’s tailors and outfitters, perfumers and wine merchants for which Bond Street, St James’s Street, Jermyn Street and Savile Row are still renowned today. Some even continue to trade from their original premises – such as Berry Bros & Rudd wine merchants at 3 St James’s Street, whose shop interior still includes their famous coffee scales, used for weighing coffee (and for weighing customers – amongst them was Lord Byron, who weighed in at 13 stone 12 pounds as a 17-year-old, but had slimmed back to a slighter 10 stone in his ‘Romantic’ prime). <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2018/07/15846847-low_res-poldark-series-4-d13471e.jpg" width="2000" height="1334" alt="WARNING: Embargoed for publication until 00:00:01 on 03/07/2018 - Programme Name: Poldark - Series 4 - TX: n/a - Episode: Poldark S4 - EP5 (No. 5) - Picture Shows: ***EMBARGOED TILL 3RD JULY 2018*** Monk Adderley (MAX BENNETT), Caroline Penvenen (GABRIELLA WILDE), Ross Poldark (AIDAN TURNER) - (C) Mammoth Screen - Photographer: Robert Viglasky" title="Poldark S4 - EP5" /> The West End was also home to famous private clubs, the meeting places of London gentlemen to exchange political news, eat, drink, network and gamble. The membership of Brooks’s and White’s gentlemen’s clubs were largely divided along political lines by the late 18th century, with the Whigs (the opposition party) congregating at the former, and the Tories at the latter. Again, these ghosts of the Georgian age still linger: both Whites’s and Brooks’s remain as private clubs today, occupying their 18th-century premises and glaring at each other from opposite sides of St James’s Street. Their political colours are not quite as marked nowadays, but their membership remains restricted to men – though women are sometimes briefly tolerated as a guest of a member at particular times, in particular rooms and subject to particular protocols. I’ve sipped a gin in the Brooks’s library, run my hand over its Georgian gaming table, and swiped a page of the club’s crested notepaper after 6.30pm, when ‘lady guests’ can enter. The exclusivity, masculine privacy and still-guarded secrecy of the West End clubs were in many ways exceptional for their time. More generally, the social life of Georgian London was legendary for its openness, publicness and commercial nature – enjoyed as much by women as by men. Theatres, the opera, masquerades, subscription balls, concerts, lectures, fairs and circuses, exhibitions of art and curiosities, museums and menageries were available to any for simply the price of a ticket. The capital’s most innovative and most famous entertainment, however, was arguably the pleasure garden. It is at Vauxhall Gardens, London’s most famous resort located on the south side of the Thames and a boat ride from Westminster, that Ross Poldark met his nephew Geoffrey Charles in episode one of the recent series. It looked, for a brief moment when propositioned by a beautiful woman, as if Ross might be ‘undone’ by London. Offering a chance to indulge in overpriced refreshments and take an evening walk amongst lanterns, statues, music and entertainers, the pleasures provided at Vauxhall Gardens may seem to tame to us now. But this ticketed, al fresco pleasure ground was a fantasy world and a temple to modernity. Georgian visitors were awestruck by fantastical installations in which art mimicked nature: water features that on closer inspection were made of metal; endless garden walks that turned out to be trompe-l’oeil visual deceptions; and thousands of simultaneously-lit lanterns that turned night back into day. So popular was Vauxhall that it spawned many competitors in London and also abroad, often named ‘Vauxhall’ in homage to the original. Read more: 10 dangers of Georgian London The 18th-century craze for gin History explorer: the Napoleonic Wars (subscription) One of the central attractions, though – of Vauxhall in particular and London’s social scene more broadly – was the people. London was the place “to see and be seen”. And series four brings us some new characters, full of metropolitan vigour. In London, as in Cornwall, Poldark's creator Winston Graham rooted his fictional world in 18th-century sources, anecdotes and stories. And it was to the lives, memoirs and diaries of William Hickey, George Canning, James Boswell and John Wilkes that Graham turned to find moments and materials for Poldark’s London. Dip in to the political and personal recollections of those famous Georgian diarists and politicos, and you might find more than one familiar figure refracted back. Hannah Greig is author of The Beau Monde: Fashionable Society in Georgian London (OUP, 2013) and was the historical advisor on the BBC One drama series Poldark (series 1-4)
Poldark series 3 recap – what happened and what is the real history behind the hit TV series?
A fourth series of the BBC One hit period drama Poldark is set to air on Sunday 10 June. But what happened in series three of the show based on Winston Graham’s novels and what is the real history behind Poldark?
During the third series of Poldark, historian and advisor to the show Hannah Greig explored the real history behind each episode for History Extra. Here’s a recap of what happened in Poldark series three – from Ross’s trip to Republican France to the rotten boroughs of 18th-century Cornwall… Warning: this article contains spoilers for series three of Poldark New characters In the first episode of series three, we’re immediately swept up with the stories of our lead characters. Ross Poldark (Aiden Turner), his wife Demelza (Eleanor Tomlinson), his childhood sweetheart Elizabeth (Heida Reed) and enemy George Warleggan (Jack Farthing) remain locked in complex ties of love, lust, loyalty, ambition and conflict. The episode sees Doctor Dwight Enys and Caroline Penvenen finally married, though the doctor is called away from his wedding night to assist the birth of Elizabeth’s baby, which arrives apparently early after Elizabeth manufactures a fall. Though the baby Valentine is delivered safely, suspicions abound as to the timing of the birth. We meet a few new characters too, with the arrival of Demelza’s brothers, Drake and Sam Carne, and Elizabeth’s cousin, Morwenna Chynoweth, who joined Elizabeth’s family as a governess. What was the situation like for a girl such as Morwenna in the 18th century? “She was socially superior to other domestic servants,” explains Hannah Greig, “closer to the family in rank than to those ‘below stairs’ but nonetheless still a servant herself, dependent on her employer for everything – her income, board and lodging, working conditions, lifestyle and social connections.” Read more: The real history behind ‘Poldark’ series three: episode one The Carne brothers and 18th-century Methodists “Oo be this, then?” Prudie asks in episode two, spotting Demelza’s brother, Drake Carne, striding towards Nampara. The arrival of the Carne brothers causes a stir in the mining community: both are young, good-looking, unmarried men; and both are Methodists. Soon after their arrival, both brothers invite the wrath of George Warleggan. Drake catches the eye of new governess Morwenna, while the elder Carne, Sam, captures attention from many of the mine workers with his charismatic Methodist preaching. Why did the Methodist style of informal preaching strike a particular chord with poorer and working communities, including those the centred around the Cornish mines? Hannah Greig explains in her episode two blog… Read more: The real history behind ‘Poldark’ series three: episode two Poldark visits Republican France In episode three, the action leaves the Cornish coast for foreign shores as Ross pays a visit across the English Channel to Roscoff to search for his missing friend Dwight Enys. Ross believes Dwight to have been captured and imprisoned following a sea battle. Eighteenth-century Brittany was a dangerous place to be: the French Revolution of 1789 had led to the removal and eventual execution of the country’s monarchy and the establishment of a new French republic. Though Ross and his companions find that Dwight is alive in a French prison, they are forced to flee before they attract dangerous suspicion and the doctor remains imprisoned. What was the political situation between Britain and France in the 18th century? Hannah investigates the realities of Ross’s treacherous journey in her episode three blog. Read more: The real history behind ‘Poldark’ series three: episode three George Warleggan becomes a magistrate The fourth episode sees George Warleggan flexing his new-found power as a local magistrate. As the effects of a poor harvest are felt in the region and riots and disorder flare in Cornwall, George stockpiles grain while punishing those who steal food. Meanwhile, the “reptilian” Reverend Osborne ‘Ossie’ Whitworth courts Morwenna with George’s encouragement; Ross clashes with George over efforts to feed his starving workers; and Demelza gives birth to another child. How accurate is Winston Graham’s depiction of the power that local magistrates held? “A Justice of the Peace (JP) was a local magistrate who sat at the heart of 18th-century local government and the country’s complex criminal justice system,” Hannah explains. “He was expected to manage local law and order by arbitrating on a whole range of disputes, from pub brawls and swearing in the street to disagreements between employers and servants.” Read more: The real history behind ‘Poldark’ series three: episode four France’s Quimper prison and a dramatic rescue Episode five finds Ross back in France, this time staging a daring prison break to rescue Dwight Enys. The prison in question is Quimper, a real prison in western Brittany which was notorious in the 18th century for its terrible conditions. Back in Cornwall, George Warleggan continues his attempts to win political favour, while Drake and Morwenna grow closer – though Reverend Whitworth looms large in his intentions towards the young governess. When researching and writing about Quimper prison in his Poldark novels, Winston Graham used first-person reports, says Hannah. In Poldark’s Cornwall – a companion to the Poldark novels – Graham recalls using a letter by one Lady Anne Fitzroy which outlined the horrendous conditions at the French prison… Read more: The real history behind ‘Poldark’ series three: episode five Aunt Agatha and the position of an 18th-century ‘spinster’ In episode six, romances are challenged as Dwight and Caroline struggle to reconnect after his prison ordeal, and there’s no happy resolution for Drake and Morwenna. After Drake is imprisoned following a prank involving a basketful of toads on Trenwith land, George seeks revenge by engineering a cruel bargain: the governess is forced to marry Reverend Whitworth in exchange for Drake’s freedom. <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2018/01/agatha2mammoth-886ce55.jpg" width="800" height="531" alt="'Poldark' character Aunt Agatha draws our attention to the often-ignored figure of the 18th-century spinster, says Hannah Greig. (Image credit: BBC/Mammoth Screen/Robert Viglasky)" title="'Poldark' character Aunt Agatha draws our attention to the often-ignored figure of the 18th-century spinster, says Hannah Greig. (Image credit: BBC/Mammoth Screen/Robert Viglasky)" /> Elsewhere, Aunt Agatha looks ahead to her 100th birthday. Acerbic, ancient and fortune-telling, Aunt Agatha has guided the viewers through plot twists since the first episode of Poldark, and she’s been locking horns with George throughout series three. “She’s also a favourite character of mine,” says Hannah, “because she draws our attention to a figure whose place in 18th-century society is all too easily ignored: the lifelong, single woman.” The stereotypes associated with spinsterhood were certainly brutal, writes Hannah. What kind of life might someone like Aunt Agatha have lived? Hannah speculates in her episode six blog… Read more: The real history behind ‘Poldark’ series three: episode six The real 18th-century history behind Poldark Episode seven sees some characters mourning the death of Aunt Agatha, while others fear for the safety of Morwenna in her unfortunate marriage to Whitworth. Elsewhere, Demelza is pursued by Hugh Armitage, while Dwight Enys once more displays his modern medical skill by treating young Valentine’s rickets with a dose of Vitamin D. Meanwhile, George sets his sights on securing one of the 44 seats in Westminster filled by Cornish MPs – an opportunity dismissed by Ross. So, are any of Winston Graham’s storylines based on real 18th-century experiences, or is such high drama the stuff of fiction alone? In her episode seven blog, Hannah explains that much of what Graham’s Poldark characters encounter is – perhaps surprisingly – inspired by ‘true stories’ the author uncovered in 18th-century newspapers, personal letters, diaries and autobiographies… Read more: The real history behind ‘Poldark’ series three: episode seven The ‘rotten boroughs’ of 18th-century Cornwall Episode eight sees two of Poldark’s women grappling with the advances of men, as poor Morwenna further suffers at the hands of her husband shortly after giving birth, while Demelza finds it increasingly difficult to avoid the amorous intentions of Hugh Armitage. Meanwhile, all eyes turn to parliament as George Warleggan is elected MP for the district. His election presents the perfect chance for Hannah to explore a fundamental characteristic of Cornwall’s 18th-century past: the ‘rotten boroughs’ that led to the region becoming famously over-represented in parliament. By 1790, it was returning 44 MPs to Westminster (home to a total of 558 members) – far more than anywhere else in the country and “a melancholy proof of the present great inequality of representation”, according to one contemporary observer. But what led to this corrupt system of ‘rotten boroughs’? Read more: The real history behind ‘Poldark’ series three: episode eight Love and marriage in 18th-century England “Love, lust, sex and marriage are at the heart of Winston Graham’s Poldark series, both in his original pages and in on-screen adaptation,” says Hannah. But how much of the love and intrigue that we find in Poldark is timeless and how much speaks to the particularities of the 18th century? <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/7/2018/01/13812436-low_res-poldark-s3-e376b99.jpg" width="623" height="417" alt="Marital rape, which occurs in the marriage of Ossie and Morwenna in the series, was not a crime in the 18th century, explains Hannah Greig. (Image credit: BBC/Mammoth Screen/Craig Hardle)" title="Marital rape, which occurs in the marriage of Ossie and Morwenna in the series, was not a crime in the 18th century, explains Hannah Greig. (Image credit: BBC/Mammoth Screen/Craig Hardle)" /> Graham’s central relationship – between the gentlemanly Ross Poldark and Demelza Carne, an illiterate young kitchen maid – is highly unusual, as it contravened most social and cultural norms of the day. But was there a real ‘Ross and Demelza’ in history? Hannah investigates… Read more: The real history behind ‘Poldark’ series three: episode nine Hannah Greig is author of The Beau Monde: Fashionable Society in Georgian London (OUP, 2013) and is a historical advisor on the BBC One drama series Poldark. Series four of Poldark begins on Sunday 10 June 2018. More information can be found here and you can read more about what to expect from series four at Radiotimes.com. Watch the trailer for series four of Poldark below: View oEmbed on the source website
To give birth in the 18th century was to enter a minefield of high mortality rates, stranger-danger and rampant commercialisation. Elizabeth Foyster offers five tips to those taking the plunge into the fraught world of Georgian parenting
This article was first published in the June 2018 edition of BBC History Magazine BIRTH Prepare to meet the ‘man-midwife’ The 18th century saw male doctors storming Britain's delivery rooms Women gearing up to give birth in Georgian Britain needed all the moral support they could get – and, for centuries, that support had come exclusively from one gender. Throughout the Tudor and Stuart periods, the delivery room was a woman-only zone, populated by female relatives, friends and neighbours offering encouragement and advice. The father was nowhere to be seen, banished from the birthing room to wait for news elsewhere. But then, in the 18th century, this traditionally female bastion was disrupted by the ‘man-midwife’. William Smellie (1697–1763) was the most influential of a new generation of male medical practitioners who claimed to be every bit as knowledgeable about childbirth as women. And he bolstered his claim by using a novel instrument: the forceps. While the forceps would go on to save the lives of many mothers and babies, midwives like Sarah Stone, author of Complete Practice of Midwifery (1737), were initially sceptical about their benefits, one criticism being that they were responsible for passing on infection. Female midwives were also suspicious about the motives of the men who made their careers, and fortunes, from contact with women when at their most vulnerable. These male arrivistes could not possibly comprehend the sensitivities of a female body, they claimed. Midwife Elizabeth Nihell was so enraged by Smellie’s presence in delivery rooms that she accused him of having “the delicate fist of a great-horse-godmother of a he-midwife”. THE FIRST YEAR Accept the will of God High mortality rates made child-rearing a stressful – often tragic – experience Starting a family in Georgian Britain was not an undertaking for the faint-hearted. Babies could inspire great joy but they could also bring heartache. Child mortality was far higher in the 18th century than it is today, and newborns were at the greatest risk. It’s estimated that as many as one in four babies died before reaching their first birthday. After all the anticipation and planning that was required for parenthood, losing a child so young was a bitter blow. Yet parents were expected to accept their children’s deaths as part of God’s will, and some took comfort from their belief that they would be reunited in heaven. John Verney, writing to his sister after the death of his son in 1737, told her “he left us yesterday morning, about nine o’clock, and we can never see him more in this world, but I trust in God we shall all meet in heaven, where I daresay he now is in perfect happiness, which I can never more enjoy here for want of him”. Keenly aware of the perils of childhood, many Georgian parents kept detailed accounts of aches, pains and changes in the temperature of their children, in order to anticipate or prevent illness. Breastfeeding was widely believed to be an effective strategy in fortifying infants against illness, and many mothers were eager to nurse their own children. “My little boy begins to suck very nicely and I am not at all troubled with my milk, he is a charming child and never cries,” wrote Elizabeth Wynne in her diary, just three days after the birth of her first child, Thomas, in 1798. The wealthiest Georgians, or those who experienced difficulties breastfeeding, sometimes chose to employ a wet nurse. Family archives show that great care was taken to find women who could be trusted to nurture their young charges. Parents took some comfort from their belief that they would be reunited with their child in heaven Rearing newborns in the 18th century was seriously hard work, as it is today. But Georgian mothers could console themselves with the knowledge that they enjoyed a higher social standing than their predecessors. Motherhood had by now come to be regarded as a full-time social responsibility, in which women were given the weighty task of raising the next generation. And it was the perceived feminine qualities of patience, forbearance and self-sacrifice that made them suited to this role. As the Reverend James Fordyce emphasised in his two-volume Sermons to Young Women (1766), it was through their mothering that women had the ability to "diffus[e] virtue and happiness through the human race". AGES 1 TO 7 Shower your children with gifts Georgian parents were put under relentless pressure to splash their cash The commercialisation of childhood is far from a new phenomenon. In fact, it can be traced back to the 18th century – and with that came a new kind of social pressure to demonstrate affection by spending money. This phenomenon stemmed from what the historian JH Plumb dubbed a “new world” of children, in which childhood was recognised as a special period of life that should be free from work – and full of toys. Georgian society was racing towards industrialisation, and this was reflected in the way that toys were made and marketed. Newspaper advertisements and trade cards from specialist producers bombarded parents with information about a seemingly endless supply of new purchases. These purchases included everything from dolls and toy soldiers to rattles and, last but not least, the latest fashions. But parents who dressed their offspring in the best garments that money could buy risked exposing them to a new kind of crime: being abducted and stripped of their clothes. One 19-month-old was found "nearly dead with cold" in a passageway near a pawn shop in Chancery Lane, London in 1818. The Times reported that the child "had been robbed of its shirt, boots, petticoat, feather from the hat, and necklace, only the frock remaining". With such crimes being committed, it's little wonder that older Georgian children were warned of the perils of talking to strangers. This advice was dispensed in children's books – a brand new phenomenon in Georgian Britain. John Newbery was something of a pioneer in this new field of publishing. He knew all the tricks of marketing: his bestselling A Little Pretty Pocket Book (1744) coming with 'free' gifts: a ball for a boy and a pincushion for a girl. But he also knew that parents wanted childhood to be a period of preparation for adult life. As his title page declared, his book was not just for amusement, but also for instruction. Playtime needed to be educational. Not everyone could afford to buy their children books, toys and new clothes, of course. Parenthood exerted even more financial pressure on the poorest families. With more mouths to feed – and mothers unable to contribute to the household income – many were forced to turn to the poor law (poverty relief from the church and government) for support. AGES 7 TO 11 Find your moral compass Georgian parents were expected to tease out their children's innate goodness Parents raising children in the 18th century were doing so at the very moment when Enlightenment ideas were sweeping Europe, a period when the continent’s greatest thinkers were considering the development of children’s minds as well as bodies. The works of John Locke and Jean-Jacques Rousseau had a significant impact on Georgians’ perceptions of childhood. Locke taught parents to think of children as being “white paper, or wax, to be moulded and fashioned as one pleases”. In contrast to many religious writers a century earlier, Rousseau believed that children were born innately good. Whereas Rousseau thought children could be left to their own devices, Locke pursued a more interventionist approach to parenting. It was nurture not nature that made the difference. “That all the men we meet with, nine parts of ten are what they are, good or evil, useful or not, by their education,” he wrote. Enlightenment philosophers believed that even the youngest of children had the ability to reason – so new parents were expected to harness this by teaching them the basics of right and wrong, as well as ensuring that they learned to read and write. What’s more, at this age, virtually all teaching was done at home, so the onus was on parents to provide it. Parents also, of course, had to learn how to discipline their children. In the preceding centuries, they had been quick to resort to physical punishment. The Georgian era, however, witnessed a shift to a more forgiving attitude that rewarded children for good conduct. Wilful misbehaviour could result from children not knowing how to govern their emotions, it was thought, and parents were instructed to teach offspring to exercise their reason to achieve self-control. Above all – no matter how unruly their child’s behaviour, no matter how exasperating they found the whole child-rearing experience – it was essential that parents remained calm. As the Quaker William Thompson wrote: “Some parents are greatly to blame, who when their children have committed a fault, presently fall into a passion… Like commonly begets its like, passion in parents, is apt either to generate the same in their children; or else to render them dumpish, and melancholick.” AGE 11 UP Embrace the empty nest Most Georgian children had moved out and found work by the time they'd reached 13 It may be hard to believe in today’s world of higher education and rising house prices, but back in the 18th century many children had barely reached their teens when they flew the nest. This was no doubt a painful experience for many. But those Georgians taking the plunge into the world of parenting could at least console themselves with the thought that their offspring were making the transition from dependant to valuable contributor to the family coffers at the tenderest of ages. Many youngsters began apprenticeships or took up positions in domestic service between the ages of 11 and 13, their new employers and masters becoming surrogate parents. In rural areas, families were often employed as a group, and so children frequently worked alongside their parents. The offspring of those occupying the higher reaches of the social ladder often left home at an even younger age – especially if they were boys. Georgians firmly believed that living away from home while at school and university was a crucial step in gaining all-important independence. Those who stayed at home for too long often grew up excessively effeminate, they argued, as they'd spent too much time with overly indulgent mothers. In his Essay on the Nursing and Management of Children (1748) the physician William Cadogan portrayed the "puny insect" of a man who has been the son of such a mother. It was better, he declared, that boys were hardened by the rigours of competition and boarding school life. Upper-class girls were prepared for their future married lives via an education provided by home tutors. As for their middle-class counterparts, they were encouraged to develop numeracy as well as literacy skills so they could assist their families with the operation of their businesses. The writer William Fleetwood acknowledged the fact that letting go could be difficult for parents who had invested so much in their children. He counselled parents to play a prominent role in their children’s first marriages, but to take a back seat for second ones. By now, he wrote, children should be freer to make their own decisions. “Now this is not because the parents are no longer parents,” he explained, “nor the children tied to dutiful obedience; but because that greater age and reason make folks fitter to consider themselves, and look after their own affairs.” The physician William Cadogan portrayed the “puny insect” who had stayed at home with his indulgent mother Despite this advice, Fleetwood recognised that parenting was a life-long commitment. Family records show that parents were expected to offer their children emotional and economic support well after childhood had ended. They stepped in if their children’s marriages broke down, offered to care for grandchildren, and were a first port of call in a financial crisis. In time, parents could expect their children to reciprocate. Many children heeded the instructions of advice books, and offered support and shelter to their elderly parents. In the 18th century, the family life-cycle of dependency and care ran full circle. Dr Elizabeth Foyster is lecturer and fellow in history at Clare College, University of Cambridge. Her books include The Trials of the King of Hampshire: Madness, Secrecy and Betrayal in Georgian England (Oneworld, 2016) TELEVISION: For more on Georgian Britain, watch the new series of Poldark on BBC One. LISTEN AGAIN: To listen to Melvyn Bragg and guests discuss childhood on Radio 4’s In Our Time, go to bbc.co.uk/programmes/p0054653
History explorer: Politics and power in Georgian Britain
Ellie Cawthorne and Hannah Greig explore Chatsworth, the seat of the most influential woman of her age, Georgiana, the Duchess of Devonshire
This article was first published in the February 2018 edition of BBC History Magazine When asked to describe Chatsworth, one word immediately springs to mind – extravagant. As I approach the house over rolling Derbyshire hills dotted with grazing sheep, its gilt-edged windows glint in the sun, hinting at the opulence inside. Every possible inch of the house’s interior appears to be intricately decorated. From carved oak panelling to ornately stuccoed walls and ceilings hand-painted with scenes of heaven, more is more seems to be the Chatsworth way. Outside, a 105-acre garden dotted with rockeries, ponds and a maze sits within elegant parklands stretching out for 1,000 acres. Its centrepiece is the majestic cascade fountain, a gigantic 300-year-old water feature fed by four lakes. Today, the grounds are meticulously maintained by a team of more than 20 gardeners. On the day I look around, the estate is alive with activity and bustling with visitors, from ramblers in walking boots to tourists armed with selfie-sticks. Originally built by the Elizabethan powerhouse Bess of Hardwick, with construction beginning in 1552, Chatsworth has been the aristocratic seat of the Cavendish family for more than 450 years. Through its countless extensions and renovations, the house bears the marks of each successive generation. What was once a Tudor manor has evolved beyond recognition into a palatial baroque residence. Down the centuries, the estate has been home to a myriad of fascinating figures, and one of its most influential residents was Georgiana Cavendish, Duchess of Devonshire (1757–1806). An author, socialite, fashion icon and political campaigner, Georgiana was one of the leading lights of Georgian Britain. Married to the 5th Duke of Devonshire, she wielded considerable influence over several of the key politicians, playwrights and royalty of the day. “The celebrity Georgiana enjoyed in the late 18th century was titanic,” says Hannah Greig, who was a historical consultant on a 2008 feature film about Georgiana’s extraordinary life, The Duchess. “She was held in high regard for her remarkable level of influence, and her name was not only well known in aristocratic circles, but by the wider public too.” In the words of the 18th-century author and politician Horace Walpole, Georgiana’s “flowing good nature, sense and lively modesty, and modest familiarity” made her “a phenomenon”. As a demonstration of her fame, the duchess enjoyed the rare privilege of being painted by both Joshua Reynolds and Thomas Gainsborough – twice. A number of her portraits are on display at Chatsworth. In the South Sketch Gallery, Georgiana imperiously peers down at visitors from a c1785 Gainsborough painting. Draped in frothy lace, with gravity-defying powdered hair, she looks the very picture of Georgian aristocratic extravagance. The gigantic ‘picture hat’ Georgiana wears in the portrait is just one of many 18th-century beauty trends she has been credited with popularising. However, the duchess was far more than just a fashionista. “She was famous for being a great beauty, but in 18th-century terms, that meant much more than just being physically attractive,” says Greig. “It meant that you were someone of great presence and power. To be called a ‘great beauty’ was to be recognised as one of the leading figures of the age.” Talking politics One area in which Georgiana wielded her influence and charisma was politics. A passionate devotee to the Whig cause, the duchess was famous for hosting dinner parties that quickly became political debates. While an involvement in politics was not unusual for aristocratic women in the late 18th century, most politically engaged women would be campaigning on the behalf of their husbands, brothers or cousins. Georgiana broke convention as a tireless activist for those outside of her immediate family. In the general election of 1784, Georgiana hit the headlines when her political activity went far beyond that of dinner party hostess. The duchess threw the weight of her celebrity wholeheartedly behind the leader of the opposition, Charles James Fox. Canvassing the streets of Westminster, she left her sheltered aristocratic circle to appeal directly to ordinary voters. As the duchess implored shopkeepers and butchers to vote for Fox, satirists of the day were swift to put pen to paper. Caricatures depicting Georgiana swapping money or even kisses for votes were produced almost daily. “Georgiana was subject to a really vicious campaign that tried to discredit her political activities,” says Greig, “but the very fact that her opponents were working so hard to undermine her probably suggests that she was pretty successful. Georgiana’s political influence has helped historians realise the remarkable power and status women could wield in Georgian Britain. There was a real cultural opportunity for women at this time, but that’s something we seem to have forgotten.” After spending the political season in London, the Cavendishes – along with most of their aristocratic contemporaries – would retire to the country for the summer. Surrounded by the hills, crags and moors of Derbyshire, Chatsworth was a world away from the politics and parties that characterised Georgiana’s life in the capital. As well as managing local interests, the duke and duchess would use their time at the estate to entertain guests and enjoy outdoor pursuits in the vast grounds. The gently sloping parklands, steep wooded hills and natural-looking lake had been redesigned a generation earlier by the celebrated landscape architect Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown. Summers in Derbyshire would also have given Georgiana a chance to pursue her literary and scientific interests. The duchess authored a number of pieces of prose and poetry, several of which were published anonymously. Like many women of the time, she was also a prolific letter writer. A number of her letters are still kept at the house, along with a collection of minerals she acquired across Europe. Georgiana was a devoted mother and Chatsworth offered an opportunity to spend time with her children. In a handbook to the house published by her son in 1844, he recalled his childhood at the estate with great fondness. However, Georgiana’s life at Chatsworth was not always idyllic. Shortly after she married the duke, aged 17, it became abundantly clear that the pair were ill suited. “It was undoubtedly an unhappy match,” says Greig. “While Georgiana was famously sociable and charismatic, the duke was far less interested in wielding the huge social power that his position presented. His principal interest was the survival of his estate and the production of a healthy heir.” Yet it was more than just differing priorities that divided the pair. As well as fathering at least one illegitimate child, the duke embarked on a long-term relationship with Lady Elizabeth ‘Bess’ Foster, a close friend of his wife’s. Bess moved in with the couple, and the three lived in a ménage à trois that continued for several years. While this unconventional domestic set-up has fascinated modern-day historians, biographers and filmmakers, it was kept out of the public eye at the time. “Georgiana’s private life was very carefully kept within aristocratic networks,” says Greig. “Whatever was going on behind closed doors, the public face the family presented was one of unwavering aristocratic power.” Scandalous affair In the late 1780s, the public image of Chatsworth as a peaceful family home was tested even further, as Georgiana embarked on an extra-marital relationship with the politician (and future prime minister) Charles Grey. After becoming pregnant by Grey, she was forced into exile in France for two years. Although Georgiana had welcomed an illegitimate daughter of the duke’s into her household, she was forced to give her own child up to Grey’s family. “While we tend to think of Georgian society as liberated and hedonistic, actual sexual freedoms were more limited than we might imagine and women’s sexuality was carefully policed,” says Greig. “Several of Georgiana’s contemporaries suffered very heavily for their sexual misconduct and were really thrown to the rocks once their affairs were made public. Georgiana would have been intensely aware of this and keen to avoid the same fate.” After returning from her French exile, Georgiana was welcomed back into London society. She continued both her writing and political campaigning. Yet, after suffering from declining health through her 40s, Georgiana died on 30 March 1806, aged 48. Chatsworth gained a new mistress just three years later, when the duke finally married his long-term mistress, Bess. Her tenure at the house lasted just two years, before the 5th duke also died and was succeeded by Georgiana’s 21-year-old son. Seven generations of the Cavendish family have lived on the estate since. In Georgiana’s day, Chatsworth was open to visitors, and a monthly dinner was thrown for whoever came along. Sadly, with more than 600,000 visitors each year, the free dinner is no longer provided. Nevertheless, it’s still a spectacular day out. The duchess: five more places to explore Chiswick House, West London Georgiana’s political hub A Palladian villa built in 1729, Chiswick was another of the Devonshires’ spectacular properties. Georgiana called the house her “earthly paradise”, and used it as a political hub to host parties, dinners and meetings. Whig politician Charles James Fox – who Georgiana had canvassed for so enthusiastically in the 1784 election – died at Chiswick in 1806. chiswickhouseandgardens.org.uk Althorp, Northamptonshire Georgiana’s family home Georgiana was born and grew up at Althorp, home to the aristocratic Spencer family for more than 500 years. Dating from 1688, the current house is home to a significant art collection and sits in 13,000 acres of land. It was later home to another Spencer woman who enjoyed huge celebrity in her day – Princess Diana. spencerofalthorp.com Kedleston Hall, Derby A haven of 18th-century interiors Built for the Curzon family in 1759, Kedleston is notable for its grand neoclassical interiors, designed by celebrated architect Robert Adam. In the film The Duchess, it stood in for the Cavendishes' London home, Devonshire House, which was demolished in 1924. nationaltrust.org.uk/kedleston-hall Howick Hall, Northumberland The seat of Georgiana’s lover This elegant 18th-century hall was the ancestral seat of Charles, 2nd Earl Grey, Georgiana’s lover and the father of her illegitimate daughter. Howick is also the home of Earl Grey tea – blended for the 2nd Earl to match the water there. howickhallgardens.com Burlington House, Central London A stylish Cavendish property Inherited by the Devonshires in 1758, this impressive Piccadilly mansion was used by various members of the Cavendish family. One especially notable resident was Henry Cavendish, the scientist who discovered hydrogen. burlingtonhouse.org Dr Hannah Greig lectures at the University of York. She has worked extensively as a historical advisor, including on the 2008 film The Duchess and the BBC’s Poldark. Words: Ellie Cawthorne
The real history behind 'Poldark' series three: episode nine
As series three of Winston Graham's Georgian-set drama comes to a close on BBC One, historian Hannah Greig discusses love and marriage in 18th-century England
Did you miss the history behind episode eight? Read it here. Love, lust, sex and marriage are at the heart of Winston Graham’s Poldark series, both in his original pages and in on-screen adaptation. Everywhere we look, matches are being made and hearts are being stolen and broken – from Elizabeth, Ross and Demelza’s plot-defining, complex passions to the more recent relationships unfolding between Caroline and Dwight, Elizabeth and George, Morwenna and Drake, Morwenna and Ossie, Ossie and Rowella, and Demelza and Hugh. Of course, Winston Graham wasn’t the first nor the last novelist to have looked to the late 1700s and early 1800s for high romance. Between 1921 and 1972, Georgette Heyer wrote more than 30 romances set in Georgian England (alongside many other contemporary novels), citing Jane Austen has her inspiration. PD James also couldn’t resist, indulging her own love of the period with her Austen-inspired crime/fiction mash-up, Death Comes to Pemberley. And among these big literary names are innumerable other authors who keep the flames of ‘Regency romance’ burning. How much, though, of the love and intrigue we find in Poldark is timeless and how much speaks to the particularities of the 18th century? Graham’s central fictitious relationship, between the gentlemanly Ross Poldark and Demelza Carne, an illiterate young kitchen maid, is certainly one that would be hard to retrieve from contemporary records as it contravened most social and cultural norms of the day. Yet, though rare, such matches are not completely absent from the archives. In the 1770s, the Town and Country Magazine, a purveyor of society scandal, claimed that the wife of Hugh Boscawen, 2nd Viscount Falmouth, was a low-born milliner’s apprentice and a minor when they married. Hugh Boscawen was a notorious rake and, once married, left his inappropriate wife behind in Cornwall while he lived it up with his mistresses in London. He died with no legitimate heir (although plenty of illegitimate ones, allegedly) and he was succeeded by his nephew, George Boscawen, who is featured as a political powerbroker in the Poldark novels. Marriage and mistresses A number of aristocratic men ended up in second (or third or fourth) marriages to mistresses of a wildly different social rank. For instance, somewhat hastily after his wife died the Duke of Bolton married actress Lavinia Fenton, who had been his lover for 20 years. Leader of the political opposition Charles James Fox married his long-term mistress, the courtesan Elizabeth Armistead, in 1795 (some 15 or 20 years after the start of their relationship). As Fox’s first and only wife, theirs was a rare match where romance clearly trumped social expectation and convention. In contrast, the story of Dorothy Jordan is sorry indeed. An actress, she had been the 'live-in lover' of King George III's son, the Duke of Clarence, for two decades and had borne him ten children. But they never wed (prevented from doing so by laws restricting royal marriages). When the royal family belatedly realised that, among the eight sons borne by George III, there was a constitutionally threatening scarcity of legitimate heirs, the fifty-something Duke of Clarence was required to pitch himself onto the European marriage market, leaving Dorothy high and dry. Her children taken from her, the debt-ridden Dorothy was forced to flee the country and died in poverty in France in 1816. The Duke of Clarence, meanwhile, took the 25-year-old German Princess Adelaide of Saxe-Meiningen as a bride, and in 1830 succeeded his brother, George IV, as monarch, becoming William IV. What, though, of marriages like that portrayed by Winston Graham between Ossie and Morwenna, where a woman found herself hitched to a terrifying brute? Marital rape was not a crime in the 18th century (nor would it be defined as such until 1991). Divorce could only be achieved by an expensive private act of parliament, and only by a man on the grounds of his wife’s adultery. The outlook for women in abusive relationships was unquestionably bleak. If a woman could prove her husband was inflicting life-threatening cruelty, then the church courts (which oversaw social crimes) might arbitrate and agree to sanction a separation but not a formal divorce. For most women, only death brought release from a miserable marriage, and the majority of incidents of domestic violence, marital rape and other forms of abuse will never have appeared on any formal parish or legal record. By including the darker as well as the brighter stories of marriage, Winston Graham’s novels remind us of aspects of the past that might otherwise remain in the shadows. Hannah Greig is author of The Beau Monde: Fashionable Society in Georgian London (OUP, 2013) and is a historical advisor on the BBC One drama series Poldark.
The real history behind 'Poldark' series three: episode eight
In the penultimate instalment of a new series for History Extra, historian Hannah Greig considers the "rotten boroughs" of 18th-century Cornwall and George Warleggan's path to parliament
Did you miss the history behind episode seven? Read it here. Watch out, Westminster: George Warleggan, member of parliament for Truro is in the house. In episode eight, the Cornish electoral politics that have been evolving in the background since the previous series (when the hapless yet ambitious MP Unwin Trevaunance won his seat, but lost Caroline Penvenen) take centre stage. Under Sir Francis Basset’s interest, George achieves his ambition to enter parliament. In the Poldark novels, Winston Graham dramatises a fundamental characteristic of Cornwall’s 18th-century past. The region was famously over-represented in parliament. By 1790, it was returning 44 MPs to Westminster (home to a total of 558 members), far more than anywhere else in the country and “a melancholy proof of the present great inequality of representation”, according to one contemporary visitor. Two of those MPs were elected as ‘county members’, representing the entire county of Cornwall. The remaining 42 were elected as ‘borough members’ (George’s ticket), representing 21 different boroughs. Although each borough returned two MPs, they varied hugely in size and make-up. Among them were a number of so-called "rotten boroughs", which had only a handful of voters, and "pocket boroughs" which were entirely under the control of a local patron. The village of Mitchell, for example, returned two MPs but had only seven voters by 1821 (and a peak of 39 in the 1790s). Launceston came under the tight management of the Duke of Northumberland after he purchased estates in 1775, and the small number of tenants who had the franchise were guaranteed to support their landlord’s candidates. In contrast, elections in the borough of Penryn (a "scot and lot" borough which extended the franchise to all those who paid poor rates) were said to be open to whichever candidate had the most money to burn. “’Tis said money is drove about in wheelbarrows,” claimed one observer in 1761, while a later newspaper report of 1825 suggested that wealthy candidates arrived periodically “to scatter gold and purchase their suffrages”. This complex and (in places) anachronistic and esoteric map of Cornish boroughs was controlled by a cohort of influential patrons from local elite families. Political historian Ed Jaggard has noted the significance of the fact that, in the closing decades of the 18th century, each heir to these families came of age at a similar time and under similar circumstances. Sir Frances Basset, Christopher Hawkins, George Boscawen, Edward James Eliot, John St Aubyn and William Molesworth all had controlling stakes in Cornwall’s boroughs. All were born in the late 1750s and early 1760s; all inherited their estates before they came of age, giving them access to significant financial resources and local power as young men; all held major political ambitions, but were as often in conflict as in collaboration with each other. As a result, in the 1780s and 1790s, Cornwall was pushed into a swirl of particularly aggressive contests over seats at general and by-elections, as these young men in their late twenties and early thirties wrestled to dominate the political infrastructure of the region. Francis Basset in particular was renowned for his ambition and determined political rivalry with George Boscawen, third Viscount Falmouth. In the novels, then, Graham places his fictitious characters, George and Ross, in the mix with these real 18th-century political powerbrokers – mapping their personal rivalry against the very real political rivalries that shaped the political environment of late 18th-century Cornwall. Hannah Greig is author of The Beau Monde: Fashionable Society in Georgian London (OUP, 2013) and is a historical advisor on the BBC One drama series Poldark.
The real history behind 'Poldark' series three: episode seven
In the seventh instalment of a new series for History Extra, historian Hannah Greig takes a look at how the high drama of the characters' lives can be traced back to real 18th-century experiences and explores the challenges of balancing historical "facts" with "fiction"
Did you miss the history behind episode six? Read it here. Series three is galloping along cliff edges as fast as Ross’ horse (played so sure-footedly by the handsome Seamus). We’ve had births, deaths and marriages, new loves and losses, romance and hope, pain and illness. This week we mourn the death of Aunt Agatha, fear for the safety of Morwenna and watch Hugh Armitage watch Demelza. Meanwhile, the doctor Dwight Enys once more displays his modern medical skill by treating young Valentine’s rickets with a dose of Vitamin D, while George sets his sights on securing one of the 44 seats in Westminster filled by Cornish MPs, an opportunity which was dismissed by Ross. On both the page and screen, the storylines move swiftly as the characters are relentlessly buffeted by life-changing events, some associated with human emotion and individual agency and others shaped by broader economic, social and political currents. The pace of change may often leave viewers and readers wondering: are any of these experiences 18th-century experiences, or is such high drama the stuff of fiction alone? As an academic historian of 18th-century British history and the consultant to Poldark since series one, I’ve come to appreciate the many and varied links that Graham made between original historical research and the fictions that unfold in his novels. Indeed, much of what Graham’s Poldark characters encounter is – perhaps surprisingly – inspired by ‘true stories’ the author uncovered in 18th-century newspapers, personal letters, diaries and autobiographies. I have often found myself retracing Graham’s steps through various historical documents (either by accident or design) when checking, confirming or suggesting alterations to points of detail in the adaptation. Some aspects of the stories – such as the relationship between local and national political representation and George’s quest to become an MP – are perhaps most obviously rooted in historical precedent, with Graham drawing on 18th-century elections of Cornish MPs as the blueprint for elections that unfold in the novels. We might be more surprised, however, to learn of other storylines which were inspired by lived experiences from the past. For example, when Dwight first met Caroline in series two, he was initially summoned to treat her dog. He soon returned, called this time to check Caroline herself for what she feared were the symptoms of putrid throat but turned out be caused by a fishbone. From here a complex romance unfolds, but Graham later revealed that this starting point was drawn from a story he found in an 18th-century medical tract. Events both large and small, and encounters both remarkable and mundane, were sourced by Graham from original 18th-century documents and then tightly woven into his fictitious characters’ lives. The relationship between fact and fiction Hilary Mantel’s recent Reith lectures on the relationship between fact and fiction in historical fiction has sparked fresh debate on where a boundary can or should be drawn between the two. With twelve Poldark novels completed, Winston Graham also set out his stall: “In all classes of [historical novels] one has to have a degree of historical truth as well as a truth to human nature. Man has not changed but his reaction to certain life patterns has. Unless the writer can understand these and transmit his understanding to the reader, his characters are simply modern people in fancy dress… It is important to deal as much as possible in historical fact. Indeed, I take my hat off to historical fact, for without it I could never have written the Poldarks.” Trying to disentangle ‘fact’ from ‘fiction’ within any form of historical drama – whether or screen or page – can be an impossible task. Of course you shouldn’t believe everything that you read or watch – but then you shouldn’t disbelieve it either. Nor should we presume that some forms of historical fiction are necessarily more or less true than others. A novel that ostensibly deals with ‘real’ historical characters acting imagined parts in an imagined past is not automatically more ‘true’ than one that deals with fictional characters; both are novels. For Winston Graham, understanding the 18th-century world in which his characters moved was an essential part of his work as a writer. “I do not know how near the truth of life in the 18th century these novels are,” he reflected. “All I know is that they are as near the truth as I can make them.” Hannah Greig is author of The Beau Monde: Fashionable Society in Georgian London (OUP, 2013) and is a historical advisor on the BBC One drama series Poldark. Want to find out more? Hannah Greig and historian Greg Jenner discuss the question of historical accuracy in period drama in a 2016 podcast episode, available here.
The real history behind 'Poldark' series three: episode six
In the sixth instalment of a new series for History Extra, historian Hannah Greig considers Aunt Agatha and reveals what the character can tell us about the position of a lifelong, single woman in the 18th century
Did you miss the history behind episode five? Read it here. Aunt Agatha (Ross and Francis’s great aunt), played so brilliantly by Caroline Blakiston, is one of my favourite Poldark characters. Acerbic, ancient and fortune-telling, Aunt Agatha has been guiding us through plot twists since the first episode of series one, and she’s been locking horns with George throughout this series. Her sharp reflections routinely make me laugh when I read Debbie Horsfield’s scripts and when Blakiston delivers them so skilfully on screen. I am also a fan of Aunt Agatha, however, because she draws our attention to a figure whose place in 18th-century society is all too easily ignored – the lifelong, single woman. The term "spinster" originally meant a woman who spins. By the 18th century, it was the legal definition for an unmarried woman and had also come to take on some of the negative connotations of the more derogatory term "old maid". Estimates suggest that between 10% and 20% of the female British population remained unmarried in the 18th-century. Spinsters, then, were a minority, but they were not exceptional within most communities. The stereotypes of spinsterhood were certainly brutal. In 1786, with vitriol typical of many commentators, The Rambler’s Magazine defined an “old maid” as: “the pest of society, a hypocrite amongst men and women, a Pharisee in the eye of Heaven and a rank putrid abomination to the deity.” Women who stayed single throughout their lives often left few records to tell us about their experiences and so have remained in the shadows of history books. Unsurprisingly though, what evidence historians have uncovered reveals a far more complex reality than derogatory stereotypes alone allow: single women have been found to have run their own successful businesses as innkeepers, brewers, shopkeepers, dress makers, print makers and more. Some lived with members of their extended family, some on their own. They managed households and even occasionally headed up estates. They were governesses and teachers but they were also poets, philosophers, novelists and actresses. There were some who regarded themselves as married, but could not or did not achieve legal recognition of their union. Heterosexual common-law partnerships, for example, are rarely recorded in surviving documents and homosexual partnerships never were. Notorious Yorkshire landowner, Anne Lister (1791-1840), would be classified as a "spinster" in official records. She never married a man, but her coded diaries (discovered by historian Helena Whitbread) reveal long relationships with women and a ‘marriage’ to Anne Walker in 1832 that lasted until Lister’s death. Lister’s contemporaries, Eleanor Butler (1739-1829) and Sarah Ponsonby (1755-1831) – the "Ladies of Llangollen" – were similarly committed and openly lived together for over 50 years. What kind of life might Aunt Agatha have led were she a character from life rather than the page? We know little about her, except that she is the great aunt of Ross and Francis. Born in the late 1690s, she is toothless, deaf and approaching 100 years of age when the Poldark drama unfolds. Had she run mines? Had she been a family helpmeet and housekeeper? Had she hoped for marriage but been heartbroken, by a man or a woman? Or was she always so determinedly independent? Perhaps we need a prequel that puts Aunt Agatha and the story of the "spinster" centre stage. Hannah Greig is author of The Beau Monde: Fashionable Society in Georgian London (OUP, 2013) and is a historical advisor on the BBC One drama series Poldark.