800 Years of Women's Letters (30 page)

Women in power sometimes had to control fighting forces. Elizabeth I was sensibly economical, but had sufficient men at Tilbury to face Spain's ‘Invincible Armada'. In the letter to Essex she displays her ability to take command and be decisive when necessary.

Madame de Sévigné gives witness to the interest women felt in relatives involved in warfare. At almost the same time Aphra Behn attempted to earn a living as a spy while England fought Holland.

Mary Wollstonecraft, like Wordsworth, felt enthusiasm for the French Revolution in 1789. She went to live there for five years, and here recounts her reaction to the Terror.

Florence Nightingale is so well known for her work in the Crimea that I have used only a few extracts. There follows a letter from Emily Hobhouse protesting against the suffering of Afrikaners during the Boer War. It can be argued that if male politicians had listened to her criticism of the first concentration camps, South African history might have been less confrontational.

The twentieth century shows writers such as Edith Wharton attempting to get close to the experience of the trenches. Gertrude Bell, the Arabist, found herself imprisoned for two months because her adventurous spirit took her to ‘Ha'il', a desert town in Saudi Arabia, where ‘murder is like the spilling of milk'. Marina Tsvetayeva, in the Second World War, demonstrates that most women were fully involved in the suffering caused by all wars and revolutions, as individuals and as mothers. Her daughter was imprisoned merely on suspicion; as in so many dictatorships, this was an area in which women were granted equality of suffering.

The Pastons gained large estates in Norfolk by dint of hard work and skill. Needless to say, their rapidly increasing property was the envy of local barons, some of whom attacked during the Wars of the Roses. Margaret Paston here tells her husband in London of the capture of their Hellesdon estate.

27 October 1465

. . . Please you to know that I was at Hellesdon on Thursday last and saw the place there, and, in good faith, nobody would believe how foul and horrible it appears unless they saw it. There come many people daily to wonder at it, both from Norwich and many other places, and they speak of it with shame. The Duke would have been £1000 better off if it had not happened, and you have the more good will of the people because it was so foully done. They made your tenants of Hellesdon and Drayton, with others, break down the walls of both the place and the lodge – God knows full much against their wills, but they dare not refuse for fear. I have spoken with your tenants of Hellesdon and Drayton and comforted them as well as I can. The Duke's men ransacked the church and bore away all the goods that were left there, both of ours and of the tenants, and even stood upon the high altar and ransacked the images and took away those that they could find, and put the parson out of the church till they had done, and ransacked every man's house in the town five or six times . . . As for lead, brass, pewter, iron, doors, gates and other stuff of the house, men from Costessey and Cawston have it, and what they might not carry away they have hewn asunder in the most spiteful manner . . .

At the reverence of God, if any worshipful and profitable settlement may be made in your matters, do not forsake it, to avoid our trouble and great costs and charges that we may have and that may grow hereafter . . .

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

The Pastons tried to get Hellesdon back, fighting for years through the lawcourts, as John Paston was a lawyer, but they were unsuccessful. Margaret Paston was frequently left to guard the estate against powerful local barons who threatened to attack. Her husband and sons were in London.

11 July 1467

. . . Also this day was brought me word from Caister that Rising of Fritton had heard in divers places in Suffolk that Fastolf of Cowhawe gathers all the strength he may and intends to assault Caister and to enter there if he may, insomuch that it is said that he has five score men ready and daily sends spies to know what men guard the place. By whose power or favour or support he will do this I know not, but you know well that I have been afraid there before this time, when I had other comfort than I had now: I cannot guide nor rule soldiers well and they set not by [do not respect] a woman as they should by a man. Therefore I would that you should send home your brothers or else Daubeney to take control and to bring in such men as are necessary for the safeguard of the place . . . And I have been about my livelode to set a rule therein, as I have written to you, which is not yet all performed after my desire, and I would not go to Caister till I have done. I do not want to spend more days near thereabouts, if I can avoid it; so make sure that you send someone home to keep the place and when I have finished what I have begun I shall arrange to go there if it will do any good – otherwise I had rather not be there . . .

. . . I marvel greatly that you send me no word how you do, for your enemies begin to grow right bold and that puts your friends in fear and doubt. Therefore arrange that they may have some comfort, so that they be not discouraged, for if we lose our friends, it will be hard in this troublous world to get them again . . .

ED. ALICE D. GREENWOOD (1920)

Madame de Sévigné comments, in this letter to her cousin, Bussey-Rabutin, on an aristocratic woman visiting a warring army during the long and unnecessary war against Germany.

12 October 1678

M. de Luxembourg's army is not yet disengaged; the orderlies even talk of the siege of Trèves or Juliers. I shall be in despair if I have to start thinking about war all over again. I very much wish that my son and my property were no longer exposed to their
glorious sufferings
. It is wretched to be moving on into the land of misery, which is inevitable in your trade.

You do know, I believe, that Mme de Mecklenburg, on her way to Germany, passed through her brother's army [that of M. de Luxembourg]. She spent three days there, like Armida, amid all those military honours which don't give in without a lot of noise. I can't understand how she could think of me in those conditions. She did more, she wrote me a very nice letter, which surprised me very much indeed, for I have no contact with her and she could to ten campaigns and ten journeys in Germany without my having any cause for complaint. I wrote to her that I had often read about princesses in armies being adored and admired by all the princes, who were so many lovers, but that I had never come across one who in the midst of such a triumph thought of writing to an old friend who was not in the princess's confidence. People are trying to read things into her journey. It is not, so they say, to see her husband, whom she doesn't love at all, and it is not that she hates Paris. It is, then, to find a wife for Monsieur le Dauphin. There are some people who are so mysterious that you can never believe that their actions are not equally so.

Monsieur de Brandenburg and the Danes have so thoroughly cleared the Swedes out of Germany that the Elector has nothing left to do but join our enemies. It is feared that that will delay peace for the Germans.

TRANS. L. TANCOCK,
MADAME DE SÉVIGNÉ: SELECTED LETTERS
(1982)

Wives suffered great hardships when their husbands ‘enlisted' for fighting. Often governments failed to pay them any money, even when the men's wages were promised them. Lack of universal education until recently also meant the added misery of not knowing what had happened. However, there are a few letters, including some from Sarah Hodkins, a 26-year-old mother of two. She had just given birth to the second child when her husband enlisted in the militia in Boston in 1775.

I cannot reconcile myself to your absence. I look for you almost every day, but I don't allow myself to depend on any thing, for I find there is nothing . . . but trouble and disappointments.

My respectful regards to your commanding officer. Tell him I have wanted his bed fellow pretty much these cold nights. I must reproach you for leaving your wife and children. I have got a Swete Babe, almost six months old, but have got no father for it. Above all dear husband I must urge you not to enlist for another three years. . . .

ED. B. HILL,
EIGHTEENTH CENTURY WOMEN
(1984)

The husband for whom her ‘heart aked' finally came home – unharmed.

Mary Wollstonecraft lived in France for a time, as she found French intellectual life less repressive. She felt enthusiasm for the French Revolution at first. This is part of a long letter to a friend, Everina.

Le Havre 1794

My Dear Girl,

It is extremely uncomfortable to write to you thus without expecting, or even daring to ask for an answer, lest I should involve others in my difficulties, or make them suffer for protecting me. The French are, at present, so full of suspicion that had a letter of James's imprudently sent to me, been opened, I would not have answered for the consequences. I have just sent off a great part of my M.S. which Miss Williams would fain have had be burn [sic], following her example, and to tell you the truth, my life would not have been worth much, had it been found. It is impossible for you to have any idea of the impression the sad scenes I have been a witness to have left on my mind. The climate of France is uncommonly fine, the country pleasant, and there is a degree of ease, and even simplicity in the manners of the common people, which attaches me to them – Still death and misery in every shape of terror haunts this devoted [meaning ‘doomed' or ‘cursed'] country – I certainly am glad I came to France because I never would have had else a just opinion of the most extraordinary event that has ever been recorded –
AND
I have met with some uncommon instances of friendship which my heart will ever gratefully store up, and call to mind when the remembrance is keen of the anguish it has endured for its fellow-creatures at large – for the unfortunate beings cut off around me and the still more unfortunate survivors.

It is, perhaps, in a state of comparative idleness – pursuing employments not absolutely necessary to support life, that the finest polish is given to the mind, and those personal graces, which are instantly felt, but cannot be described: and it is natural to hope, that the labour of acquiring the substantial virtues, necessary to maintain freedom, will not render the French less pleasing, when they become more respectable.

CLAIRE TOMALIN,
THE LIFE AND DEATH OF MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT
(1974)

Here Florence Nightingale writes to her Aunt Mai from the Crimea.

September 1855

The pressure of work is enormous: getting up at 6 a.m. and copying until 11 p.m, and next day getting up at 5 a.m. and copying again until 11 p.m.

November 1855

A woman obtains that from military courtesy (if she does not shock either their habits of business or their caste prejudice), which a man who pitted the civilian against the military element and the female against the doctors, partly from temper, partly from policy, effectually hindered.

The hopes she placed in her female wiles in that letter were disappointed. A year later, in September 1856, she wrote again:

I have been appointed a twelvemonth today, and what a twelvemonth of dirt is has been, of experience which would sadden not a life but eternity. Who has ever had a sadder experience. Christ was betrayed by one, but my cause has been betrayed by everyone – ruined, destroyed, betrayed by everyone, excepting Mrs Roberts, Rev. Mother and Mrs Stewart. All the rest, Weare, Clough, Salisbury, Stanley
et id genus omne
where are they? And Mrs Stewart is more than half mad. A cause which is supported by a mad woman and twenty fools must be a falling house . . . Dr Hall [the doctor in official charge of hospitals] is dead against me, justly provoked but not by me. He descends to every meanness to make my position more difficult.

As if I had not enough to endure I was taken ill again and forced to enter the Castle Hospital with severe sciatica. Minus the pain, which was great, the attack did not seem to have damaged me much. I have now had all that this climate can give, Crimean fever, Dysentery, Rheumatism and believe myself thoroughly acclimatised and ready to stand out the war with any man. . . .

From April until November, every egg, every bit of butter, jelly, ale and Eau de Cologne which the sick officers have had has been provided out of my or Mrs Shaw Stewart's private pockets. Dr Hall would like to broil me slowly on the fires of his own diet kitchen. There is not an official who would not burn me like Joan Of Arc if he could, but they know the War Office cannot turn me out because the country is with me.

FAWCETT LIBRARY

Women have been more involved in war than is generally acknowledged. Here Emily Hobhouse criticises the Boer War in an open letter to the Secretary of State for War, sent to the Press.

1903

Will nothing be done? Will no prompt measures be taken to deal with this terrible evil? Three months ago I tried to place the matter strongly before you, and begged permission to organise immediately alleviatory measures. . . . My request was refused. . . . The repulse to myself would have mattered nothing, had only a large band of kindly workers been instantly despatched with full powers to deal with each individual camp as its needs required. The necessity was instant if innocent human lives were to be saved. Instead we had to wait a month while six ladies were chosen. During that month 576 children died. The preparation and journey of these ladies occupied another month, and in that interval 1,124 more children succumbed. In place of at once proceeding to the great centres of high mortality, the bulk of yet a third month seems to have been spent in their long journey to Mafeking, and in passing a few days at some of the healthier camps. Meanwhile, 1,545 more children died. This is not immediate action; it was very deliberate enquiry, and that too at a time when death, which is unanswerable, was at work; nay, when the demands of death, instead of diminishing, were increasing. Will you not now, with the thought before you of those 3,245 children who have closed their eyes for ever since I last saw you on their behalf, will you not now take instant action, and endeavour thus to avert the evil results of facts patent to all, and suspend further enquiry into the truth of what the whole world knows?