Frances Evesham's Blog, page 5
May 4, 2015
August 1, 2014
Victorian Language of Flowers: sunflower
The Victorians used the sunflower to depict “pride” in their Language of Flowers. It’s easy to see why. Taller than the other plants in the garden, more striking and bolder than any other, the sunflower is no shrinking violet.
Vincent van Gogh via Wikimedia Commons
The Incas first worshipped it for its likeness to the sun, and it crops up in art throughout the ages. Has anyone not seen a print of one of Vincent van Gogh’s sunflower paintings? One hung on the wall at my primary school, a glow of bright yellow and orange; it captured a child’s attention with ease. I spent many long moments of boredom during morning assembly, staring at it.
Image by Jdtraversvia Wikimedia Commons
For British sunseekers, a field of sunflowers symbolises holidays in the south of France, where neat ranks of the flowers march to the horizon, turning in unison throughout the day to face the sun.
Children compete to grow the tallest and biggest flower head, and as the petals fade, the seeds provide food for the birds. Keen to prove I could do anything the kids next door could do, I have planted sunflower seeds in pots for many years.
Sadly, however, I have to confess that none of these have reached maturity. If the slugs don’t get them, those birds nip off the flowers before they have a chance. Ungrateful brutes!
Filed under: flowers, language of flowers, Victorian Tagged: Frances Evesham, Francis Evesham, language fo flowers, language of flowers, pride, sunflower, Victorian
July 21, 2014
Top 3 Communication Tips
You too can become an expert communicator. Start with these tips. They’re simple but truly effective.
• Speak more slowly. Your listener’s brain has to remember your sentences, then decode the words and grammar before he can understand your message. It takes time. Talk too fast and you’ll be misunderstood.
• Pause between phrases and sentences. Give your listener a chance to catch up and to react.
• Use short sentences. You can only hold seven things in your memory at one time. If you pack your sentences full, your listener will miss something. Say important things as simply as possible.
Filed under: Uncategorized
Communication Tips
You too can become an expert communicator. Start with some of these tips.
• Speak more slowly. Your listener’s brain has to remember your sentences, then decode the words and grammar before he can understand your message. It takes time. Talk too fast and you’ll be misunderstood.
• Pause between phrases and sentences. Give your listener a chance to catch up and to react.
• Use short sentences. You can only hold seven things in your memory at one time. If you pack your sentences full, your listener will miss something. Say important things as simply as possible.
Filed under: Uncategorized
July 4, 2014
The Victorian Language of Flowers: Carnation
I will never forget you: that’s the romantic message a Victorian young lady would read into a bouquet or corsage of pink carnations. Imagine the story that may lie behind such an offering.
By Kaz Andrew via Wikimedia Commons
Is the young lady’s suitor leaving her for ever, perhaps because her father has refused his permission for them to marry? Maybe he is off to the war in Afghanistan or Crimea, or to make his mark in India before returning to claim her hand.
A mix of carnations would give confusing, mixed messages, especially if red blooms were set alongside yellow for red carnations signified “yes” while yellow blossoms gave an unequivocal “no.”
Some species of carnations, (latin name dianthus,) are best grown in greenhouses. These provide the long-stemmed varieties that florists sell: I carried a bouquet of peach-coloured beauties at my wedding, many years ago.
It’s possible that the common name “pinks” may derive less from the colour of the carnation, more from the frilled effect at the edges of its petals, similar to that achieved by cutting with a pair of pinking shears.
Have carnations fallen out of fashion a little in recent years? I no longer grow them in my garden, but that is more because they soon die. I like to blame the mix of salt in the air and a clay soil for this, but I must be alone in my incompetence, as my Somerset neighbours chose Dianthus gratianopolitanus, the Cheddar Pink as our county flower.
Ghislain118 http://www.fleurs-des-montagnes.net
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Filed under: flowers, language of flowers, Romance, Victorian Tagged: carnations, Frances Evesham, language of flowers, pink, romance, romantic, Victorian
June 6, 2014
The Victorian Language of Flowers: envy
By ReconditeRodent via Wikimedia Commons
The cranesbill geranium seems able to grow anywhere. The cheerful flowers fill gaps between other plants in my garden with great style, beating the weeds every time. They appear in early May and just keep on going until the autumn.
Usually at the end of May, I cut down the early fading flowers to encourage even more later in the year (this is the famed Chelsea chop, at the time of the Chelsea flower show) but everything in my garden is a little late this year so I’ve left it alone. I suspect it will manage perfectly well without my help.
It’s easy to transplant. I just dig up a clump and put it somewhere else. This technique has killed many other plants over the years, but the cranesbill seems able to withstand any amount of harsh treatment.
What a shame that such a wonderful plant means envy in the Victorian language of flowers.
Filed under: flowers, language, Victorian Tagged: envy, Frances Evesham, garden, geranium, plants, Victorian
June 3, 2014
Victorian Crime: Murder in the East End
A hanging outside Newgate Prison. Image by Wikimedia via creative commons
Mary Emsley, an elderly widow, lived at no 9 Grove Road in London’s Stepney. She owned many properties left to her by her husband and lived comfortably, though frugally, on the rents collected from tenants.
On Thursday, 17 August, 1860, Walter Emm, a shoemaker who often collected rent on her behalf, reported her missing to the police.
The police found her, lying dead in a bedroom in her house, in a pool of blood, her head violently beaten. A large footprint in blood pointed out of the bedroom door. She had been attacked with an instrument that could have been a hammer.
Time of death
The time of her death was suggested by Samuel Gill, a surgeon, to be on or around Monday 13 August. Mrs Emsley was seen alive that evening between 7 and 8pm, but not afterwards.
On Tuesday 14th and Wednesday 15th, several callers failed to get a response when they came to her house. A neighbour noticed her window had been open, unusually, after 10pm on Monday, and that it remained open.
The time of death was therefore set between 8 and 10 on Monday 13th August.
Suspects
There were two main suspects in the case. One was James Mullins, a plasterer and ex poiceman from Ireland who also worked for Mrs Emsley. The other was Walter Emm.
For two weeks, no arrest was made. Then, Mullins visited a police officer with a tale that appeared to show Emm’s guilt. He said he had seen Emm hide a small parcel in a shed beside his house.
At first, the police failed to find the parcel: then, Mullins showed them where it was, behind a stone.
The parcel contained newspaper, blotting paper, a silver table spoon, 3 silver tea spoons and 2 magnifying lenses, plus a cheque for £10. All the items belonging to Mrs Emsley. The cheque proved to be from a John Carrier in payment of his rent. The parcel was fastened with waxed string and a piece of tape.
Emm
Walter Emm soon proved to have an alibi for the evening of Monday 13th. He had been driven to Stratford along with his wife, by a Mr Rumble, who corroborated his story. He produced a dated toll ticket as proof.
Mullins
Mullins, on the other hand, found it less easy to prove innocence. There were several circumstances that pointed to his guilt.
The police found a plasterer’s hammer on the floor of his rooms. The surgeon believed it could have inflicted the appalling blows to the head that killed the poor old woman: one injury was measured at 1 ½ inches, corresponding to the sharp edge of the hammer.
Emm’s daughter testified she had seen Mullins near the shed where the parcel was found on the Saturday two weeks after the murder.
Two witnesses identified Mullins, one seeing him in Grove Road on the evening of Monday, 13th August, the day of the murder, and another reporting he had not come to work in the Tuesday. Both agreed he wore a wide-awake, or billy-cock hat, although he denied owning one. It later emerged that his son had such a hat.
Mullins’ landlady said she saw a boot thrown from Mullins’ window two weeks after the murder, when he had been interviewed by the police. The boot had a blood spot, although forensic tests were not available then to detect whether the blood was human. The boot also appeared to correspond slightly, although not conclusively, to the bloody footprint.
But…
A neighbour saw someone moving paper-hangings around in Mrs Emsley’s room and saw the window open a little on Tuesday morning. This was twelve hours after the expected time of death.
A builder said he saw a man called Rowland emerge from a house in Grove Street holding wallpaper on Tuesday morning, although it appears Rowland may have been papering the house next door. Rowland’s response, however, was that the witness was unstable.
Verdict
These circumstances did not convince the jury, and nor did the garbled and contradictory evidence of Mullin’s adult sons who became confused in the witness box as they struggled to give him an alibi.
Mullins was found guilty and sentenced to death. The judge, though, did not appear as convinced as the jury, suggesting that if Mullins could “make it manifest that you are innocent of the charge … every attention will be paid to any cogent proof.”
Nevertheless, Mullins was hanged on 19 November 1860, leaving a statement still claiming his innocence.
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle took a keen interest in murder cases at the Old Bailey. He believed Mullins may have been mistakenly blamed for the murder of Mrs Emsley, and that his execution was little short of judicial murder. Conan Doyle thought the Scottish verdict of “not proven” which was not, and still is not, available in England, would have been a more appropriate verdict.
His detailed account, raising doubts about the safety of the verdict, are in the British Newspaper Archive.
Filed under: crime, history, Victorian Tagged: 19th century, East End of London, Frances Evesham, history, London, murder, Victorian, Victorian crime
May 30, 2014
The Victorian Language of Flowers: I have a message for you
Victorian ladies and gentlemen knew that the iris meant “I have a message for you,” in the language of flowers.
Yellow_flag_iris Photo by Tfitzp via Wikimedia Commons
The yellow flag iris, or iris pseudocorus, decorates pond margins and poorly-drained clay soils, so it loves our Somerset garden.
The Royal Horticultural Society lists several coloquial names for this common but delightful plant including:
Daggers
Jacob’s sword
Water flag
Water skegs
Yellow flag
Yellow fleur-de-lis.
It grows to 3-4 feet in height and flowers in the spring. You are, however, advised not to eat it. As the Society charmingly puts it, “Ingestion may cause severe discomfort.” You have been warned.
This is one of a series of posts about the Victorian language of flowers and other assorted items of interest from the fascinating Victorian era visited in my novel, An Independent Woman, published on 11 June 2014 by The Wild Rose Press.
Filed under: flowers, language, Uncategorized, Victorian Tagged: Frances Evesham, iris, language of flowers, Victorian
May 15, 2014
Victorian Life: Train Accident at Sonning Cutting
Eight people died in a dreadful train crash on the Great Western Railway, at Sonning Cutting, in the early hours of Christmas Eve 1841. Better safety regulations were enforced by legislation in 1844. Here’s the story of the accident.
In the dark and cold of a winter morning, at 4.30am on the 24th December 1841, labourers returning home from London for Christmas piled onto two third-class carriages at the Paddington terminus. There were just under 40 passengers in total. The journey to Bristol was expected to take 10 or 12 hours.
Carriages
Their carriages were placed between the tender and the station truck, with 17 heavy goods wagons travelling behind. Third class carriages had no coverings at that time and were left open to the weather. This had been poor that year with an excessively wet autumn. The seats in the carriages were 18 inches high, but the sides only two feet tall.
Disaster
The train’s route took it via Twyford, where it arrived around 6.40am. The train was running ten minutes late as it left the station, with Reading the next stop. Was it running fast to make up time? After 2½ miles it came to what was then known as the Sunning-Hill Cutting, cut through clay and gravel, 60 ft deep and more than a mile long.
In the pitch black of the night, at around 6.45am, the train hit an obstacle, later discovered to be a land slip casued by the rain. The engine left the rails but did not overturn. The carriages containing passengers, though, were overrun by the following truck, which was in turn pushed forward by the goods wagons behind.
All the passengers were thrown out, eight were killed and 17 injured.
Reports
The first report, written by Lt Col Frederic Smith, Inspector-General of Railways, on 25th December, suggested that the loss of life may have been less if spring buffers had been attached to the passenger carriages, with a white reflector lamp on the buffer beam.
In Lt Col Smith’s opinion, passengers should not be travelling on any train that carried heavy good wagons.
Action
Within three days, on the 28th December, the Board of Trade wrote to the Great Western Railway Company, recommending that spring buffers should be fitted and the sides and ends of the passenger wagons be raised to at least four feet six inches above the floor.
The Company replied the next day, stating that such improvements had been agreed “some weeks ago” and were already in hand.
I wonder whether such prompt action would result from an accident today?
Read more
See a facsimile of the original report from 25 December 1841 on the Sonning Cutting accident here
Read a report from The Spectator archive here
Find a list of the victims here in the newsletter of the Sonning and Sonning Eye Society
The photograph is of the North Star, one of the first to run on the Great Western Railway
Sign up for early news of the upcoming launch of An Independent Woman, a Victorian mystery romance set in the 1840s.
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Filed under: frances evesham, history, Independent woman, Romance, Victorian Tagged: disaster, Frances Evesham, independent woman, novel, romance, steam train, train accident, Victorian
Victorian Romance An Independent Woman: Train Accident at Sonning Cutting
In An Independent Woman Philomena arrives at Thatcham Hall as a passenger travelling in a dangerous and uncomfortable carriage behind a steam engine. A dreadful accident cuts short her 12 hour journey to Bristol, close to Thatcham Hall. Her rescuer is none other than the enigmatic Lord Thatcham.
The “Frightful Accident on the Great Western Railway” was a real event. Widely reported in newspapers on Christmas Day 1841, it led to the death of eight people. Better safety regulations were enforced by legislation in 1844. Here’s the story of the accident.
In the dark and cold of a winter morning, at 4.30am on the 24th December 1841, labourers returning home from London for Christmas piled onto two third-class carriages at the Paddington terminus. There were just under 40 passengers in total. The journey to Bristol was expected to take 10 or 12 hours.
Carriages
Their carriages were placed between the tender and the station truck, with 17 heavy goods wagons travelling behind. Third class carriages had no coverings at that time and were left open to the weather. This had been poor that year with an excessively wet autumn. The seats in the carriages were 18 inches high, but the sides only two feet tall.
Disaster
The train’s route took it via Twyford, where it arrived around 6.40am. The train was running ten minutes late as it left the station, with Reading the next stop. Was it running fast to make up time? After 2½ miles it came to what was then known as the Sunning-Hill Cutting, cut through clay and gravel, 60 ft deep and more than a mile long.
In the pitch black of the night, at around 6.45am, the train hit an obstacle, later discovered to be a land slip casued by the rain. The engine left the rails but did not overturn. The carriages containing passengers, though, were overrun by the following truck, which was in turn pushed forward by the goods wagons behind.
All the passengers were thrown out, eight were killed and 17 injured.
Reports
The first report, written by Lt Col Frederic Smith, Inspector-General of Railways, on 25th December, suggested that the loss of life may have been less if spring buffers had been attached to the passenger carriages, with a white reflector lamp on the buffer beam.
In Lt Col Smith’s opinion, passengers should not be travelling on any train that carried heavy good wagons.
Action
Within three days, on the 28th December, the Board of Trade wrote to the Great Western Railway Company, recommending that spring buffers should be fitted and the sides and ends of the passenger wagons be raised to at least four feet six inches above the floor.
The Company replied the next day, stating that such improvements had been agreed “some weeks ago” and were already in hand.
I wonder whether such prompt action would result from an accident today?
Read more
See a facsimile of the original report from 25 December 1841on the Sonning Cutting accident here
Read a report from The Spectator archive here
Find a list of the victims here in the newsletter of the Sonning and Sonning Eye Society
The photograph is of the North Star, one of the first to run on the Great Western Railway
Sign up for early news of the upcoming launch of An Independent Woman, a Victorian mystery romance set in the 1840s.
[contact-form]
Filed under: frances evesham, history, Independent woman, Romance, Victorian Tagged: disaster, Frances Evesham, independent woman, novel, romance, steam train, train accident, Victorian
