The Invisible Woman: the story of Nelly Ternan and Charles Dickens, by Claire Tomalin. Book review

Penguin 1991. ISBN 978-0-140-12136-0. 283 pages

The Invisible Woman is a historical biography of Ellen (Nelly) Ternan, a not-very-famous actress in Victorian London who had a close relationship with the writer Charles Dickens for thirteen years from 1857 to his death in 1870. It is also the story of Nelly’s mother and two older sisters, all professional actresses; of Nelly’s husband and children in the second life she built after Dickens’ death; and of the detective work required for the author to rediscover the story after the valiant attempts made by Nelly, Dickens and their families and associates to obliterate all evidence of their association.

I enjoyed this book very much more than I expected to. Although Nelly Ternan’s relationship – whatever it was – with Dickens is what she is now famous for and the reason The Invisible Woman was written, it turns out to be one of the least interesting things in a full and varied life. Nelly Ternan went from an impoverished child actress earning a precarious living touring provincial theatres with her two sisters and redoubtable widowed mother, to a well-off if not entirely respectable lady, to the popular wife of a provincial schoolmaster. Her two sisters, Frances (Fanny) and Maria, lived even more unorthodox lives. Fanny was by turns an actress, singer, teacher, novelist and biographer, and successfully made the Jane Eyre transition from governess to respected married lady. Maria left her businessman husband to earn her own living in Italy as an artist, journalist and foreign correspondent, travelling to Egypt and North Africa. All this in an age when women were expected to be entirely passive, dependent and confined to the domestic sphere (as exemplified by most of Dickens’ heroines).

The writing style in The Invisible Woman is clear, unfussy, lively and sympathetic without being sentimental. Nelly’s life is painstakingly pieced together from mere scraps of evidence – playbills, rates and rent records, obscure passing references, a diary so abbreviated it could almost be written in code – because Nelly, Dickens and their respective families went to considerable lengths to destroy all the letters and papers in their possession. Nelly herself deliberately created something close to a new identity for herself after Dickens’ death, taking twelve years off her age and hiding both her theatrical past and her association with Dickens from her husband and children. The result is a sort of cross between a biography and a scholarly detective story, as the author tracks Nelly from one fleeting appearance to the next, cross-referencing clues to build up a plausible picture. Numerous footnotes and references back up the statements in the text, and the author takes care to distinguish between evidence, inference and speculation.

The introductory chapters describing Nelly’s family background and her early life as a child performer, long before Dickens appeared in her life, are some of the most interesting in the book. This section forms a social history of the world of the professional theatre in Regency and Victorian England, a self-contained sub-culture with its own set of values and social norms. Women in the theatre were both expected and able to earn their own living independently of a man, and indeed the women in Nelly’s immediate family were frequently the primary breadwinners, even when there was a man in the family. This independent earning capacity conferred some resilience, so Nelly’s mother was able to support herself and her three small daughters when her husband died of syphilis. Some successful actresses managed to attain a degree of personal freedom otherwise unheard-of in respectable Victorian society, such as being able to leave an unsatisfactory husband, live with a man outside of marriage, and bring up children on their own. But it carried a price in terms of financial insecurity – even very successful actresses often died in poverty after they became too old to work – and in exclusion from and the disapproval of polite society. Two young actresses living in the theatre district could all too easily be mistaken for a different kind of working girl and subjected to police harassment with the threat of arrest and ruin, and for a lovely young actress touring in Ireland the risk of abduction and rape by an unscrupulous aristocrat was considered an occupational hazard. All three of the Ternan sisters ruthlessly suppressed their theatrical past when marriage allowed them entry into polite society. This was a fascinating glimpse into a world I knew almost nothing about, and The Invisible Woman was well worth reading for this alone.

There is an extensive bibliography for anyone who wants to follow up source material for themselves, and a detailed index for reference.

Clear, lively, sympathetic and scholarly biography of the unorthodox lives of Nelly Ternan and her sisters, combined with an illuminating social history of the Victorian theatrical world.

Sovereign, by CJ Sansom. Book review

Pan, 2007. ISBN 978-0-330-43608-3. 653 pages

This historical mystery is the third in the Shardlake series, following on from Dissolution (review) and Dark Fire (review). Sovereign is set in York and London in September-November 1541, with an epilogue in February 1542. King Henry VIII, Queen Catherine Howard, Lady Jane Rochford and Archbishop Cranmer are important secondary characters. All the main characters are fictional.

After the horrors recounted in Dark Fire, lawyer Matthew Shardlake has built up a modestly prosperous property law practice in London, with Jack Barak (formerly one of Thomas Cromwell’s henchmen) employed as his clerk. When Shardlake accepts a seemingly straightforward task from Archbishop Cranmer, he finds out too late that it also involves a political mission, escorting an important prisoner from York to London. Arriving in York, Shardlake and Barak find the city and region seething with resentment and hostility to the King. The destruction of the monasteries and the sale of their vast land holdings to absentee landlords, mainly in London, has not only wrecked the regional economy as the new landlords siphon the rents south, but also removed the safety net for those left destitute. Only a few months earlier a conspiracy against the King was discovered, throwing the London government into a panic and provoking King Henry to undertake a huge armed progress through the north of England. Shardlake’s prisoner was part of this conspiracy, and is to face torture in the Tower of London to force him to betray his associates. Shardlake, a humane man, is distressed by his mission and by the obvious injustice of the treatment of the North. And then a murder and a chance encounter bring Shardlake and Barak into possession of not one but two secrets perilously close to the throne. As events unfold, Shardlake uncovers a secret that threatens to plunge England into chaos and civil war – and he has powerful enemies at court who have a terrifying fate in store for him...

This third instalment in the Shardlake series is even darker than the first two. Corruption and cruelty are pervasive, and Shardlake finds out – personally, in one of the most harrowing sequences in the book – that honesty and justice do not necessarily provide any protection. His disillusion with both religion and royalty, developing through the first two novels as he witnessed abuses of power, is now complete. Shardlake is a decent man living in evil times, when integrity and a strong moral sense can carry a very high price. Several years ago when I reviewed Dissolution, I said ‘I will be interested to see how (if?) Shardlake and his principles manage to navigate the rest of Henry’s increasingly tyrannical reign’. In Sovereign, this is thrown into sharp relief.

The plot is suitably complex, with multiple strands that cut across one another. Some are connected and some are purely coincidental, providing ample scope for red herrings and false leads to keep the reader guessing. Whether the ancient rumours on which the main plot turns would really have been enough to threaten Henry VIII is hard to say. On the one hand, the dearth of alternative candidates – the nearest direct heir was a Cardinal in Rome – would surely have given pragmatists pause. On the other, Henry had made a great many enemies as a result of his marital antics, religious power-grab and increasingly tyrannical rule, and at least two serious rebellions had already been attempted (the Pilgrimage of Grace in 1536 and the conspiracy in 1541). Given Henry’s caprice and paranoia, it is entirely plausible that such rumours could have been extremely dangerous to those who happened upon them (regardless of whether there was actually a credible threat to Henry himself).

I was pleased to see Jack Barak back again, after his introduction in Dark Fire. This time he has a challenge of his own, a sparky young woman who works as a confectioner and seamstress for one of Queen Catherine’s ladies. It will be interesting to see if Barak is luckier in love than Shardlake has been so far – though I have to say I can’t really imagine Barak as a steady family man.

Like the previous two, the novel is very long and the pace is stately, even slow. This partly reflects Shardlake’s methodical nature; he seems to observe even attempts on his life in meticulous detail. The slow pace and the length allows plenty of space for historical detail about life at various levels of society under Henry’s rule.

A helpful historical note at the end outlines the background to the Progress, the northern rebellions and the rumours about the Tudor family tree, and there is a bibliography of selected further reading. A map at the front showing the layout of York in 1541 is helpful to follow the scenes in the city, and another map outlines the route of the Progress and Shardlake’s voyage from York to London for readers unfamiliar with English geography.

Dark historical mystery set against the cruelty and corruption of England during the later years of Henry VIII’s reign.

A Murder of Crows, by PF Chisholm. Book review

Poisoned Pen Press, 2010. ISBN 978-1-59058-737-9. 253 pages.

This historical mystery is set in London in 1592. Sir Robert Carey, his father Lord Hunsdon (cousin of Queen Elizabeth I through his mother Mary Boleyn), his father Lady Hunsdon, Robert Cecil, Vice Chamberlain Heneage, Will Shakespeare and Christopher Marlowe are all historical figures and major characters. The central character, Land-Sergeant Henry Dodd of Gilsland on the Anglo-Scottish border, is fictional.

Tough Borderer Henry Dodd wants vengeance on Vice Chamberlain Heneage for the injuries he sustained in an earlier adventure. He has reluctantly been persuaded that the way such matters are handled in the strange foreign world of London is by suing Heneage in the law courts, rather than by the traditional Border method of burning Heneage’s property and stealing his livestock. Dodd has little faith in this peculiar southern system but is prepared to give it a try. However, no lawyer in London is willing to accept the commission, even for the handsome fee offered by Lord Hunsdon – until a young Cornish lawyer offers to take the case with suspicious eagerness. Meanwhile, Lord Hunsdon wants Carey and Dodd to solve the mystery of an  unknown corpse with no feet that has washed up on the Palace steps. And to complicate matters further, Carey’s formidable mother Lady Hunsdon arrives unexpectedly in London with business of her own that will get Dodd and Carey into still more trouble.

PF Chisholm is a pen name of Patricia Finney, who has written several novels set in Elizabethan England. A Murder of Crows is the fifth in a series of historical mysteries starring Sir Robert Carey and Henry Dodd. I didn’t know that when I picked this up, and haven’t read any of the others. This one seemed to work perfectly well as a stand-alone, although there were probably references to the previous books that I missed.

The vigorous, chaotic and ruthless world of Elizabethan London is brilliantly realised in this entertaining mystery. The glittering snake-pit of the court sits cheek-by-jowl with the criminal underworld, and which has the more cheats, liars, thieves and murderers is anyone’s guess.

The plot is complicated, with several intertwining sub-plots involving political rivalry, financial scams, secret codes, murder, torture and mistaken identity. Both playwrights, Shakespeare and Marlowe, are engaged in various degrees of shady espionage work for patrons unknown, the young Cornish lawyer James Enys is not what he seems, and both Lord and Lady Hunsdon have something to hide. I soon gave up trying to work out who was double-crossing whom, and just went along for the highly enjoyable ride as the dour and very practical Sergeant Dodd works out the solution and brings matters to a satisfactory conclusion.

Although it is billed as ‘A Sir Robert Carey Mystery’, Robert Carey himself is rather a secondary character, and events are almost all seen through the eyes of Henry Dodd. This adds a wonderfully surreal note of comedy to the mayhem, as Dodd views London, with its commerce and courtly shenanigans, through the prism of Border reiver ways – which prove more applicable than one might imagine. Dodd’s speculations about the practicalities of staging a reiving raid on London form a running joke throughout the novel. He has a healthy lack of respect for some of the fripperies of London life, such as the uncomfortable clothes and self-important courtiers, but is developing a reluctant taste for some of its luxuries, like tobacco and a ready supply of apples (which are rare on the Borders, owing to the reivers’ habit of destroying orchards along with everything else). Dodd’s wry humour and down-to-earth attitude make him a splendid guide to Elizabethan London. Other than Dodd, the most memorable character is Lady Hunsdon, here imagined in the entertaining if somewhat unlikely guise of a lady privateer – a sort of Cornish Grace O’Malley commanding a tough crew of pirates. I have to say I didn’t find this terribly convincing, but it was great fun.

A Murder of Crows is full of historical detail, usually either worked into the plot (e.g. paper is extremely expensive, which leads Dodd to an important clue) or to develop character, such as Dodd’s musings on the contrasts between life in London and life on the Borders. Period terminology and slang adds atmosphere. There is a glossary of period terms at the back for readers who are unfamiliar with them. I worked most of them out from context, which is just as well as I didn’t find the glossary until I finished the book. Regional accents indicate the various characters’ origins and social position, with Cockney, Cumbrian and Cornish alongside formal court English.

Entertaining murder mystery set in Elizabethan London against the murky backdrop of court factions and dubious financial dealings.

Llangors Crannog

Viewing platform

Llangors Lake (also called Llyn Syfaddan and Brycheiniog Mere) is the largest natural lake in South Wales. It is located in south-east Wales, not far from Brecon.

Map link: Llangors Lake 

Llangors Lake was formed by glacial meltwater after the last Ice Age. It is a shallow lake (only about 7 m deep), notable for an abundance of fish and water birds (and a legendary aquatic monster or afanc).  It is also the site of the only known crannog in England and Wales.

Llangors Crannog

A crannog is an artificial island, typically constructed a little way offshore in an inland lake, river or estuary.  Crannogs were dwelling places, with access either by boat or via a causeway to the shore. Most of the known crannogs in the British Isles are in Ireland and Scotland, where they range in date from the Neolithic to the early medieval period.

Llangors Lake is the only known example of a crannog in Wales, and perhaps reflects Irish connections.

Llangors crannog from the shore

The Llangors crannog was excavated by archaeologists in 1989-1993. It was constructed from bundles of brushwood laid on the lake bed and held in place by hardwood beams and a ring of massive split oak piles, with a layer of sandstone boulders placed on top of the brushwood to create a platform about 25 m across (Wait et al 2005).

According to the information board at the site, dendrochronology dating on the timbers indicated that the crannog was constructed from trees felled in 889–893 AD. It would have been a very considerable construction project, requiring substantial resources in material and labour.

The excavation found a fragment of a very high-quality embroidered textile and a bronze hinge from a reliquary of a style associated with Ireland in the 8th to 9th centuries AD. This is consistent with the Llangors crannog having had high-status occupants, and the reliquary hinge suggests an ecclesiastical connection. One of the Llandaff charters records that a King Awst of Brycheiniog granted ‘Llan Cors’ and its surrounding estate to a Bishop Euddgwy in the 8th century AD (Wait et al 2005). The charter may just be a post hoc ecclesiastical attempt at a land grab, but it is consistent with the presence of the reliquary hinge and may reflect a genuine church connection. Perhaps the crannog was the site of a royal and/or episcopal hall.

Destruction of the crannog

A destruction layer of charcoal and charred timber indicated that Llangors crannog had been destroyed by fire (Wait et al 2005).

The destruction layer may relate to an event recorded in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle:

A.D. 916.  This year was the innocent Abbot Egbert slain, before midsummer, on the sixteenth day before the calends of July.  The same day was the feast of St. Ciricius the martyr, with his companions. And within three nights sent Ethelfleda an army into Wales, and stormed Brecknock; and there took the king's wife, with some four and thirty others.

Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, available online 

Ethelfleda is Aethelflaed, Lady of the Mercians and daughter of Alfred the Great. ‘Brecknock’ is an alternative spelling of ‘Brycheiniog’.

The kingdom of Brycheiniog

Brycheiniog (anglicised version, Brecon) was an early medieval Brittonic kingdom in what is now south-east Wales. Its eponymous (legendary?) founder, Brychan, is traditionally said to be the son of a Brittonic mother and an Irish king. Whether literally true or not, the legend is consistent with connections between Brycheiniog and Ireland, which might account for the Irish-style reliquary hinge and the construction of a crannog, a type of dwelling more often associated with Ireland.

According to Asser’s Life of Alfred, Brycheiniog had been an ally (or vassal state, depending how voluntary the arrangement was) of Wessex during the reign of Alfred the Great, seeking protection against attacks from Gwynedd.

Helised, also, son of Tendyr, king of Brecon, compelled by the force of the same sons of Rotri, of his own accord sought the government of the aforesaid king [King Alfred]

Asser, Life of Alfred, available online

The ‘sons of Rotri’ were the kings of Gwynedd, sons of Rhodri Mawr. Attacks by Norse raiders may also have added to the pressure, as Annales Cambriae says that Norsemen laid waste Brycheiniog in 895.

894  Anarawd came with the Angles and laid waste Ceredigion and Ystrad Tywi.

895  The Northmen came and laid waste Lloegr and Brycheiniog and Gwent and Gwynllywiog.

--Annales Cambriae, available online

The date of the alliance between Brycheiniog and Alfred is not precisely stated.  Since it was against the sons of Rhodri, it was presumably after the death of Rhodri Mawr in 878. Anarawd ap Rhodri of Gwynedd co-operated with ‘the Angles’, presumably Alfred, in 894 according to the Annales Cambriae, so the relationship between Brycheiniog and Alfred was most likely established before then. This suggests a date some time in the 880s.

As the crannog was built with timber felled in 889-893, its construction may have been a response to all this political and military upheaval, perhaps a desire for a secure place of refuge in the face of many threats and/or an attempt to proclaim an identity as an independent kingdom and resist being swallowed up as a vassal state.  I wonder if it was in existence when the Norse ‘came and laid waste Brycheiniog’ in 895, and if so, whether it was attacked and how it withstood the attack. Or indeed whether it was built as a reaction to this Norse attack, using timber that had already been felled a few years earlier.

Whatever the nature of the relationship between Alfred and the king of Brycheiniog, Aethelflaed clearly did not regard Brycheiniog as an ally at the time of her attack in 916. Possibly she felt that it was a Wessex arrangement that did not apply to her in her capacity as Lady of the Mercians, or that it had been negated by the death of Abbot Egbert, or that circumstances had changed and an alliance from the previous generation was no longer relevant.

It can’t be often that one queen captures another queen in battle. I wonder about the story or stories behind these fragments of archaeology and the laconic references in the chronicles. Who was the now-unknown Abbot Egbert, how was he murdered and why was he so important that his death started a war? Why did Aethelflaed blame Brycheiniog for the murder?  Was the attack on Brycheiniog really revenge for the abbot’s death? Aethelflaed seems to have acted very fast if she despatched an army within three nights of the abbot’s death, especially as news would take at least some time to travel. Was Abbot Egbert’s death merely a convenient cover for some other motive? (or an unrelated event that was attributed an unwarranted significance by an ecclesiastical chronicler who assumed that everything revolved around church affairs?)  What did Aethelflaed think of Alfred’s alliances with the various Brittonic kingdoms?  Aethelflaed and the queen of Brycheiniog may have known each other personally, or at least have met at royal court events. I wonder what they thought of each other.

Nowadays, Llangors Lake is a tranquil place between the Black Mountains on one side and the Brecon Beacons on the other. You can’t get to the crannog itself (except maybe by boat; I have no idea whether you might need a permit to land there). A walkway leads out from the shore to a modern viewing platform, with a central shelter under a roof like an Iron Age house and a gallery all round to give uninterrupted views of the crannog, the lake and the surrounding mountains. Information boards explain a little about the geography and history of the lake and the archaeological investigation on the crannog. If our visit is anything to go by, it’s home to a lot of dragonflies, ducks and swans (alas, I didn’t spot the afanc).

 

Llangors crannog from the viewing platform

References

Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, translation available online 

Annales Cambriae, available online

Asser, Life of Alfred, available online 

Wait G, Benfield S, McKewan C. Rescuing Llangors Crannog. British Archaeology 2005;84, available online