800 Years of Women's Letters (25 page)

My garden was a plain vineyard when it came into my hands not two years ago, and it is, with a small expense, turned into a garden that (apart from the advantage of the climate) I like better than that of Kensington. The Italian vineyards are not planted like those in France, but in clumps, fastened to trees planted in equal ranks (commonly fruit trees), and continued in festoons from one to another, which I have turned into covered galleries of shade, that I can walk in the heat without being incommoded by it. I have made a dining room of verdure . . .

I am afraid you will think this a very insignificant letter. I hope the kindness of the design will excuse it, being willing to give you every proof in my power that I am,

Your most affectionate mother,

M. Wortley

ED. R. HALSBAND,
THE COMPLETE LETTERS OF LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU
(1965)

Fanny Burney gained almost immediate fame for her novel
Evelina
. However, she was exceedingly shy, and avoided praise, preferring the company of her adored sister Susan. When they were separated she wrote to her regularly. After turning her letters into a diary for the sister, Fanny had the idea of publishing it, thanks to which we learn about the details, trials and joys of the daughters of the musicologist Dr Burney.

Friday 8 October 1784

For Susan,

I set off with my dear father for Chessington where we spent 5 days very comfortably. Father was all humour, all himself, such as you and I mean by that.

Thursday, Oct 14, I arrived at dear Norbury Park, at about seven o'clock, after a pleasant ride in the dark. Mr Locke most kindly and cordially welcomed me; he came out upon the steps to receive me, and his beloved Fredy [Mrs Locke] waited for me in the vestibule. Oh, with what tenderness did she take me to her bosom! I felt melted with her kindness, but I could not express a joy like hers, for my heart was very full – full of my dearest Susan, whose image seemed before me upon the spot where we had so lately been together.

Next morning I went up stairs as usual, to treat myself with a solo of impatience for the post, and at about twelve o'clock I heard Mrs Locke stepping along the passage. I was sure of good news, for I knew, if there was bad, poor Mr Locke would have brought it. She came in, with three letters in her hand, and three thousand dimples in her cheeks and chin! Oh, my dear Susy, what a sight to me was your hand! I hardly cared for the letter; I hardly desired to open it; the direction alone almost satisfied me sufficiently. How did Mrs Locke embrace me! I half kissed her to death. Then came dear Mr Locke, his eyes brighter than ever – Well, how does she do?

Nothing can be more truly pleasant than our present lives. I bury all disquietudes in immediate enjoyment; an enjoyment more fitted to my secret mind than any I had ever hoped to attain. We are so perfectly tranquil, that not a particle of our whole frames seems ruffled or discomposed. Mr Locke is gayer and more sportive than I ever have seen him; his Fredy seems made up of happiness; and the two dear little girls are in spirits almost ecstatic; and all from that internal contentment which Norbury Park seems to have gathered from all corners of the world into its own sphere.

Our mornings, if fine, are to ourselves, as Mr Locke rides out; if bad, we assemble in the picture room. We have two books in public reading, Madame de Sévigné's ‘Letters,' and Cook's last ‘Voyage.' Mrs Locke reads the French, myself the English.

Our conversations, too, are such as I could almost wish to last for ever. Mr Locke has been all himself – all instruction, information, and intelligence – since we have been left alone; and the invariable sweetness, as well as judgment, of all he says, leaves, indeed, nothing to wish.

ED. A. DOBSON,
THE DIARY AND LETTERS OF MME D'ARBLAY
(1904)

This is a recent letter from a Buddhist friend. When her husband lost money in business and the bank threatened to foreclose on their jointly owned house, she went to live on a tiny boat near her work. She soon realized that simplicity and calm are more important than having a large income.

21 June 91

Dear Olga,

It's three weeks now since I've been living on my small boat, alone for virtually the first time in my life. Trying to enjoy it, and succeeding – most of the time. I still feel so torn about my work, about whether to stay working here or go back to London.

On a more positive side, by living here on my own, I'm learning to become less attached to the house, other than physical comfort; and towards the family, I've become more open and less dependent.

It is sometimes a bit too lonely, but by writing letters to people like you and just knowing that friendship is always with me in thought, is very comforting. That weekend we Buddhist women all spent together was inspiring. With which other group of people could one discuss so openly, so trustingly?

I usually write part of a letter each evening and the rest of the time I listen to the radio, but more often read Buddhist books. I enjoy the peace and the slow pace of life. The local canoe club often come by and swans and ducks make very welcome visitors. A few people from work have come for meals and trips up the canal too. But just observing nature and having the time to listen to its sounds is one of the best things.

The setting is quite lovely. Where I'm moored there is a bank of willow trees inhabited by several birds. Their dawn chorus is a delightful advent to the day. Buttercups and daisies are my back garden together with a sloping bank of grass. When the weather is good it is the ideal place for me to practice my Tai Chi. I go once a week, on Mondays, to my Tai Chi class, which gives me a focus for the week. It is a difficult discipline and very exacting of mindfulness but it is also extremely energizing. Unfortunately I have disturbed my equanimity by fancying the instructor! It's all pure fantasy and obviously something I will have to work at.

Living on the boat itself is an extreme exercise in mindfulness as well as control of energy. The above fantasy has made me realize how important it is to use one's energy in positive and useful ways rather than dissipating it on ephemeral dreams. My mind is continually considering how to make a reasonable living without all the hassles which intrude into our equanimity in a normal working day. Living here in a simple way has made me aware of how little money I need to make life pleasurable. That's an incredibly comforting lesson. Come soon and try it – any weekend. Write!

Love, Barbara

O. KENYON (1992)

‘Women's work' has a pejorative ring in our male-dominated culture. Yet women have always worked, continuously and continually, in every culture and country. These letters show women involved in a wide variety of tasks. Work was often a shared experience in field and household before the nineteenth century, for poor and for powerful. The previous chapter showed medieval Margaret Paston and Honor Lisle dealing with financial and estate matters competently. In this chapter, Elizabeth I shrewdly assesses the needs of a Protestant monarchy.

Hildegard Bingen and St Teresa worked hard for others: they set up convents, proving that nuns could be remarkable businesswomen, running large households, overseeing self-sustaining estates. Both achieved fame in their lifetime for their mysticism, and their advice was sought by men in power. And Hildegard found time, like many women, to study medicine, publishing a comprehensive study in the twelfth century. Her advice is admirable, particularly on herbal remedies, and respecting the body's needs:

If the stomach is irritated through different harmful foods and the bladder weakened through miscellaneous detrimental drinks, then they both will bring bad juices to the intestines and send a foul smoke to the spleen.

The death of a husband frequently precipitated a widow into his business, or job-hunting. After the deaths caused by the Great Plague in 1665, widows like the playwright Aphra Behn accepted any remunerative work. As she spoke Dutch, she agreed to spy for the English government, at war with Holland; dangerous work for which she was briefly imprisoned – but not paid!

Though women were more vulnerable financially than men, they complained little about money. The Ladies of Llangollen, for example, though from wealthy aristocratic families, were given only £100 a year – because they refused to marry. But they turned their penury into a model of subsistence living, sharing work in kitchen and garden, and studying daily together.

More typical of the nineteenth century is the real misery of the Brontës, exploited and undervalued as governesses. I also include one of the very few letters available from an American factory girl.

Social work became a lifelong mission for Harriet Martineau and Florence Nightingale. Their Victorian seriousness is echoed in what George Sand and George Eliot say about their work as writers.

Margaret Paston writes to her eldest son, Sir John Paston, about work she is carrying out on the estate. She allows herself to express irritability at her son for leaving her so much to oversee financially.

[Norwich]

15 July 1470

I greet you well and send you God's blessing and mine, letting you know that your farmers have brought me a great bill for repairs, which I send you, together with 60
s
. in money. I would have the rest of the money from them but they said that it was in your agreement that these repairs should be done and allowed for in this payment, and so I could get no more money from them. And they say that the parson [Thomas Howes] was aware of the repairs. If you were thus agreed and will have the repairs examined you may send word, but I wish you would settle your affairs as hastily as you may, and come home and take heed to your own [property], and mine as well, otherwise than you have done before this, both for my profit and yours. Or else I shall arrange otherwise for myself in haste, in a way that, I trust, shall be more to my ease and profit and no ease nor profit to you in time to come. I have yet little help nor comfort from any of you, God give me grace to have more hereafter. I would that you should consider whether it would not be more profitable to serve me than to serve such masters as you have served before this . . . I pray God we may be in quiet and rest with our own property from henceforth. My power is not as great as I would wish it for your own sake and for others, and if it were, we should not for long be in danger. God bring us out of it, who have you in His keeping.

Written without ease of heart the Monday next after Relic Sunday.

By your mother.

ED. ALICE D. GREENWOOD,
SELECTIONS FROM THE PASTON LETTERS
(1920)

Margery Clerke, a well-born woman, wrote to Thomas Cranmer to protect herself and her five children, after they had been evicted.

1526

To Thomas, Archbishop of York and Chancellor of England

It is the humble complaint of your beadswoman Margery Clerke of Cheshire, once the wife of William Clerke that, although her late husband and his ancestors had for many years enjoyed undisturbed tenancy of a property in the parish of St Werberga, at the discretion of the Abbot of St Werberga in Westchester, according to the immemorial tradition, at an annual rent of forty shillings, John, the late abbot, although there had been nothing done to forfeit the tenancy and though there was no other reason, in the eighth year of the current reign sent certain of his servants to the said property and evicted from it your present petitioner, her late husband, and five small children, this being the coldest part of the winter. They were forced by necessity to go to their parish church for relief and remained there for three weeks, as they had no house to stay in, until the abbot, out of his yet further malice, ordered the vicar of the church to evict them from there as well.

The same servants took all the farm stock, and they took all the furniture and household effects and threw it into a deep pond. As a result of brooding about this her husband fell into depression and shortly died.

Your petitioner has complained about this to your highness on various occasions, and your grace has appointed certain gentlemen to examine her case, and bring it to a conclusion, as their commissions direct; but the said abbot has delayed and extended the investigation by improper means, so that the said commissioners were unable to conclude it. And now the said abbot has recently resigned from his post, and another has been elected. Your petitioner has made representations to him, but he refuses redress unless ordered to make it by the King's writ, which your beadswoman has not the ability or power to deploy against him, she being an poor woman and he a great lord in these parts, high in both rank and office.

ED. C. MORIARTY,
THE VOICE OF THE MIDDLE AGES
(1989)

Henry IV was an able man, who reunited France after civil war. Though a Protestant, he decided to become a Catholic in order to gain, and retain, the loyalty of leading French families. It is believed he said
‘Paris vaut bien une messe'
(It's worth saying a Mass to gain Paris). Elizabeth I, now more isolated in her Protestant faith, complained to him:

1593

My God! Is it possible that worldy considerations can so erase the fear of God which threatens us? Can we in reason expect any good result from an act so impious? He who has supported and preserved you through the years, can you imagine that he will forsake you in time of greatest need? Ah! It is dangerous to do evil, even for a good end. I hope that you will return to your senses. In the meantime I shall not cease to put you foremost in my prayers, that the hands of Esau do not snatch away the blessing of Jacob. And as for promising me all amity and faithfulness, I have merited it dearly; I have not tried to change my allegiance to my father. For I prefer the natural to the adopted parent, as God well knows. May He guide you back to the right way. Your most assured sister, if it is after the old manner, for with the new, I have nothing to do.