Buying books is one of the pleasures of doing research. Of course I use digital resources, and visit libraries and archives, but sometimes there is a book that I want to hold in my hands and refer to over and over again. As I delved into the history of colonial America and Georgian England for background to my novel A Moon Garden, my personal library expanded a bit. The social, industrial, and geo-political transformations of the late 18th century intrigue me, and I am currently writing the biography of a British general who lived and died during this time. My quest for books about this period continues.
Recently I acquired The Story of the London Parks by Jacob Larwood. It was published in London and has no copyright date. There is, however, a hand-written inscription inside the front endpaper, indicating it was a New Year’s gift to Mrs. Goodings in 1888.
It’s a beautiful book, which includes several illustrations, including some in color. It is in remarkably good shape, thanks to the fact that it has never been read. This is apparent, because the pages must have been printed two-up or four-up, and they were not trimmed. Many of the pages would have to be cut apart in order flip through them. I prefer to leave the book the way it has been for over 130 years.
My knowledge of book printing and binding techniques of the 19th century is very limited. If anyone reading this can provide an explanation, please feel free to leave your comments.
I wonder if Mrs. Goodings’ admirer ever asked her opinion of the book. What would she have said?
After abandoning Philadelphia to the Americans in 1778, the British shifted their focus to the South. By the middle of May 1780, they had secured a decisive victory in Charlestown, South Carolina, with the surrender of the Continental Army and Patriot militias under the command of Major General Benjamin Lincoln. Hundreds of captured colonial soldiers were held in prison hulks in the harbor.
In my debut historical novel, A Moon Garden, Joseph Buckleigh is an officer with the 33rd Regiment of Foot. At the Royal Army field headquarters just north of Charlestown, he is unexpectedly reunited with his friend, Aaron Mendes, a colonial doctor who has recently arrived to treat the sick and wounded prisoners.
Aaron’s face lit up when he saw Joseph, and he suspected his expression mirrored his friend’s. The two men embraced.
“This is unexpected, Aaron,” said Joseph. “Colonel Eades only told me a few moments ago that you are working at Greenwood. When did you arrive?”
“Just over one week ago.”
“It is commendable of you to serve the Patriots at a British facility. We have too few doctors even to attend our own soldiers, so I am certain the care given to the captured wounded is far from adequate.”
“I will refrain from commenting, Joseph. Suffice it to say that I am kept busy.”
The men went outside. Colonel Eades had already requested Joseph’s horse be made ready, and it was tied to a post next to Aaron’s bay mare. It was a cool morning on a clear day, perfect for riding.
“Charlestown Harbor is not far,” said Joseph. “When we get to the ship, you cannot board without someone to provide protection. Perhaps we may prevail upon a prison guard to accompany you, for you must realize I cannot. If there were a way to persuade you to abandon this undertaking, I would try.”
“It is not for myself that I must do this.”
Joseph felt the wind go out of himself, as though he had taken a blow to the solar plexus. Grace was the unspoken, unseen presence. It was for Grace that Aaron would visit hell to look in on the man who had seduced his sister and then bound her to himself with an eternal vow. It was for Grace that Aaron and Joseph had to assess a value to the life of a man who had abused and encumbered a woman that they each loved in their own way. Joseph untangled the reins of the chestnut Marsh Tacky stallion, put his boot in the stirrup, and mounted. “Then ride,” he said, as he took off at a gallop, not glancing back to see if Aaron had followed.
Gerald Fitzgerald, 9th Earl of Kildare (1487-1534) has the dubious distinction of being the first prisoner to be buried in the Chapel Royal of St Peter ad Vincula after being incarcerated and dying in the Tower of London.
Upon his father’s death in 1513, Kildare succeeded him as Lord Deputy of Ireland. A fierce warrior, he is said to have “reduced Ireland to a quiet condition” in 1517 after storming Ulster and taking the Castle of Dungannon.
In response to accusations of mismanagement, Kildare was removed from office in 1518. He was replaced by Thomas Howard, the Earl of Surrey, followed by his brother-in-law, Piers Butler, the 8th Earl of Ormond. He was eventually reappointed Lord Deputy, but turmoil prevailed as a blood feud raged between him and Ormond.
In 1534 he travelled to London, where he was arrested, arraigned, and imprisoned at the Tower of London. Later that year he died of his grief, and was buried in the church at the Tower.