Category Archives: Early modern history

Early modern history

Early modern cookery, or the origins of chicken chasseur

A fascinating excerpt from Aguecheek’s Beef, Belch’s Hiccup, and Other Gastronomic Interjections: literature, culture, and food among the early moderns is online.

It begins with Europe’s “earliest post-Roman cookbook” – written, mostly in Danish, although with Latin headings and smatterings of other languages, in about 1300. Among its recipes is:

About a dish called Chickens Hunter Style
One should roast a hen and cut it apart; and grind garlic, and add hot broth and lard, and wine and salt and well beaten egg yolks, and livers and gizzards. And the hen should be well boiled in this. It is called “Chickens Hunter Style.”

Which apparently squares with a version of the dish still found in southern Italy.

Blogging/IT Early modern history

Carnivalesque – what’s your tipple?

Over on Scribbling Woman (one of the first blogs ever on my blogroll) is Carnivalesque No 22, being, of course, a collection of early modern history posts. It is a feast of Christmas reading.

Among many other things I learnt from Raminagrobis that
‘vin de porceau’ in early modern France was ‘[wine] which makes the drunkard to sleepe, vomit, and tumble him in his vomit.’

So binge drinking hasn’t always been just a British thing then…

Early modern history Women's history

The Cooke sisters

Mildred, Anne, Elizabeth, Katherine and Margaret – these were the highly educated, celebrated daughters of Anthony Booke, the tutor to Edward IV and active parliamentarian under Elizabeth. There are all interesting in different ways, but I confess that I struggle to keep them all separate – as they acquire husbands and new names, it all seems a bit of a tangle. So since I’ve been re-reading Silent But for the Word, one of the early classics of Renaissance women’s studies, thought I’d set out a primer:

Mildred, the eldest, married William Cecil, the first Baron Burghley and Queen Elizabeth’s principal secretary. She was celebrated by Roger Ascham as one of the most learned women in England, doing translations from Greek of early church fathers, being said to particularly like reading Basil the Great, Cyril, Chrysostom and Gregory Nazianzen. (Important at the time because this was the “pure” church, uncorrupted by Catholicism.) She was described by the Spanish ambassador as a “furious heretic” who had greaty influence over her husband.

Anne, who married Nicholas Bacon, Lord Keeper of the Great Seal, translated Latin sermons and the Apologia Ecclesiae Anglicanae, which was an official document of the English Church, ordered to be widely distributed by the Convecation of 1563. She was a strong supporter of Reformist preachers.

Elizabeth first married Sir Thomas Hoby (who had translated the influential Castiglione’s Courtier, and then Lord John Russell. She also translated from religious material from Latin, and was acclaimed for her skills in writing epitaphs, in Latin, Greek and English. Her letters also show a mind well attuned to legal niceties.

Katharine married the diplomat Sir Henry Killigrew. Her Latin verse to Mildred asking for one of his missions to be withdrawn, has survived, and is less than subtle. In George Ballard’s translation: “His staye let Cornwall’s shore engage; / and peace with Mildred dwell./ Else war with Cecil’s name I wage/ Perpetual war. – farewell.”

Little is known of Margaret, who died young.

From: Mary Ellen Lamb, “The Cooke Sisters: Attitudes towards Learned Women in the Renaissance, pp. 107-125, in Silent.

Books Early modern history

Diane Purkiss’s English Civil War

There’s a traditional way of telling the story of the English Civil War. On one side there’s the King, haughty and distant, on the other Sir Thomas Fairfax and Oliver Cromwell, the aristocratic general and the political mastermind. They move their men — and it is always the men who get talked about — around the map of England as though they were pieces on the chessboard, but the Commonwealth ultimately has the better strategy, and so finally knocks off the king’s head.

That isn’t the Dianne Purkiss’s Civil War. In her “people’s history”, the war is messy and confused; decisions are made not by careful calculation and planning but by emotional impulse and irrational passion. It is not as comfortable and convenient to handle as the traditional histories, but I’ve no doubt it is far more true to the reality.

One excellent aspect of the story is that the women – half or more of the population — are returned to the cities, the battlefields, in the depths of the palace intrigues, having active parts. I’ve noted elsewhere the fascinating account of the spy and nurse Elizabeth Alkin (Parliament Joan), and there’s also the woman we know only as “Mary the scout”, who was personally rewarded for her work by Fairfax after the fall of Taunton. (p.507)
read more »

Early modern history Women's history

Old Mother Red Cap and Mother Shipton

These are two of the lost “famous female” pubs of London – a loss chronicled today by Marina Warner in the Guardian.

…when the old hags drop from view, so does an idea of human vagaries and fates, of idiosyncratic and oddball people, with strange histories and surprising fortunes – good and bad. Pub names and signs are some of the oldest surviving traces of exchanges and folklore in a particular place. More and more names and phrases in the public arena are tied to adverts and commodities – global creep of meanings for everybody and no one. They’ve gone because no pub owner wants to admit that there’s any link between disreputable winos and what they are selling. Perhaps they’ve disappeared, too, because we’ve become sensitive to the sight of derelicts with their tins of Strongbow and plastic bagged bottles and don’t want to be reminded. Perhaps the old hag is just too rude for the times.

Early modern history Women's history

Pepys’s abuse – it probably went on for years

Of course that’s not how The Times puts it, at least not in the headline or intro – using instead “lost lover” and “Deb the maid” … and they wonder why they have trouble getting and keeping women readers.

Nonetheless, there is an interesting story, even if it is one, quite likely, of continuing abuse by a much older man of a young woman almost entirely within his power.

Research now shows that Pepys re-established contact with the maid’s family three years later and suggests that the dirty diarist had the opportunity to resume the affair….
Willet married Jeremiah Wells, a theology graduate, in January 1670. Wells soon wrote to Pepys to ask if the writer could use his contacts in the Royal Navy to get him a job. Pepys obliged, securing Wells a job as a ship’s chaplain. The diarist therefore knew not only where his old flame lived, but also that her husband was away at sea.
Dr Loveman said that there was no direct evidence that Pepys returned to his mistress, but it would not have been out of character. “Given Pepys’s past obsession with Deb, his continued contact with her family raises suspicions about the nature of their relationship,” she said.