If you are wondering what all the hubbub is about, that's understandable. But this is a holiday that has been celebrated since ancient Babylonian times, more than 4,000 years ago. So even they believed that the changing years were worth acknowledging in the most magnificent ways.
They practiced a fertility ritual, lasting eleven days and beginning with the Vernal Equinox--the onset of Spring. When the world around these people came to life again, they engaged in various forms of debauchery that we would be hard-pressed to match. Even resolutions originated with them and were incredibly popular in their culture. This seasonal occasion continued until the Romans assumed control of the major civilizations.
Then they celebrated New Year's in March until 153 BC, when the Senate declared January 1 as the day of acclaim. Many argue that this took place because it was the month of the god Janus. He had two faces, one looking forward and one looking backward. Janus was also the guardian of doors and gates, thus going out and coming in.
Among the various cultural traditions of the day was the use of the baby to represent rebirth, which started in Greece around 600 BC. There it was associated with their god of wine, Dionysus. Forced to surrender to this particular tradition, Christians adopted the infant as part of a Nativity scene, now associated specifically with Christmas. But it maintained a more secular connection as Baby New Year, which became especially predominant in the cartoons and advertisements of the Victorian Era.
As for other customs, even the Babylonians believed that you could influence your luck with start of year pursuits. The Romans and Greeks began the practice of the toast for good health and prosperity. Drinks literally contained a piece of cooked bread to absorb the acidity, therefore establishing the name of the activity.
In the US, upcoming fortune became linked to pork, black-eyed peas, and cabbage. While many argue that hog and legumes have long been considered promising portents, and cabbage represents the green of money, the explanation is probably much simpler. If one is already fortunate enough to have a pig to kill in winter, access to leafy vegetables in cold months, and enough peas for eating and planting, then they have luck to celebrate and likely more to come.
"Auld Lang Syne" is a Celtic song meaning "Old Long Ago." Like other such tunes, it is so ancient that its origins are indeterminate, but Scottish poet Robert Burns is given credit for setting established words to the music, which was formally published after his death in the late 1700's. It is a melody of farewell to times and people and events of the past, be they good or bad.
So let's drink a cup of kindness yet to 2010, bid it farewell, and turn a forward-looking face toward 2011. Happy New Year to all. May each day be better than the one which preceded it.
V K
Friday, December 31, 2010
Saturday, December 25, 2010
The Life and Times of Brandy Nan
A while back, the lullaby "Rock-a-bye Baby" and its origin with the Stuart dynasty was our topic. We also mentioned that James II had two daughters, Mary and Anne. When William and Mary took the throne in the Glorious Revolution of 1688, the assumption was that the Stuart line was still secure, but the couple would die without an heir. This, then, brought Queen Anne into the equation.
The youngest daughter born to James and Anne Hyde. she assumed the throne in 1702 at the age of 37. Don't think for a moment that she had been biding her time, wondering how things were going to work out. This very active woman had already been married to Prince George of Denmark for almost 20 years. She had spent a large part of her childhood in France with her grandmother and an aunt, even making trips to Holland and Scotland. And when her sister died during a smallpox epidemic in 1694, the assumption was that Anne was next in line to inherit upon William's death. He was an in-law and cousin, but had been only a co-ruler and was not a direct Stuart descendant. There was an understanding of her position.
She had also become deeply involved in the two most significant relationships of her life, though some might argue that there were three. The predominant person in her circle was her husband, with whom she obviously had a special bond. Anne Stuart holds the record for the number of pregnancies for one monarch--at least sixteen, though many historians argue eighteen. It would seem that this made for a lively household, but such was not the case. Only five of the children survived their first days, and four of those died around the age of two. The Duke of Gloucester, little William, provided the sole source of any real hope. But there were rumors that he suffered from hydrocephalus, and the boy died at the age of eleven in 1700. Say what you will, but this woman, whether standing or reclining with the consort, gave her all for her country.
The other truly important person in the queen's life was her best friend, Sarah Churchill--Lady of the Bedchamber, wife of the great war hero John, Duke of Marlborough (created so by King William), and ancestor to both Winston Churchill and Princess Diana. Her relationship with Anne was chronicled by witnesses and recorded in their letters. So close were the pair that formalities were set aside. Sarah was "Mrs. Freeman," as opposed to the Duchess, and Anne became "Mrs. Morley," not Your Majesty. Seldom has a relationship between two women in such different stations existed. Churchill kept secrets, soothed wounds, and offered advice. Her lack of artifice could be disarming. It was known that she believed the queen "meant well and was not a fool, but . . . [was not] wise, nor entertaining in conversation." Sarah's heavy-handed meddling in the affairs of the queen, their numerous quarrels (including an accusation by Churchill that the ruler was a lesbian), and her lack of understanding at the loss of Prince George all led to the dissolution of the friendship, at Anne's instigation, in 1710.
The third attraction that drew much attention was that of the Stuart monarch to alcohol. Friends and detractors alike referred to her as "Brandy Nan," in honor of her favorite drink, which she consumed prolifically. In determining the possible reasons she failed to produce an heir, scholars discuss a myriad of options from lupus to diabetes to rhesus incompatability. But what of fetal alcohol syndrome or the effect of the wine on diabetes if she was afflicted with the disease? At any rate, brandy did not do for Nan what Nan did for it.
As the queen aged, her body became tremendously worn out--pregnancies, stress, and alcohol all did their part. She developed a severe case of gout and grew extremely overweight. Her last years were spent on a wheeled slant board, which served as a makeshift wheelchair because she could no longer move about on her own.
When she died of a stroke in 1714, Queen Anne was only 49 years old, but she was so large and depleted that the unwieldy body had to be placed in an especially large and rather misshapen coffin. "Brandy Nan" had lived through the loss of all her immediate family members, including as many as 18 children. She had travelled the world, been widowed, lost the comfort of her closest friend, and weathered wars and political storms. Yet, despite her best efforts, there was no Stuart to continue the dynasty. The British were forced, after a bit of a crisis, to turn to Germany. There, they chose distant cousins, the Hanovers, to assume the throne. George I became king that year.
A queen is a queen, but she is also a woman after all. The political intrigue might have been manageable, but Anne Stuart, youngest daughter of the deposed James II, abused her body with alcohol and risked it with innumerable pregnancies. The emotional and physical trauma she suffered was profound. While James had believed he ruled by "Divine Right," it seems that his daughter survived so long only by the luck of the draw.
Even her doctor said, "sleep was never more welcome to a weary traveller than death was to her." She was interred in Westminter Abbey. May she rest peacefully at last.
VK
The youngest daughter born to James and Anne Hyde. she assumed the throne in 1702 at the age of 37. Don't think for a moment that she had been biding her time, wondering how things were going to work out. This very active woman had already been married to Prince George of Denmark for almost 20 years. She had spent a large part of her childhood in France with her grandmother and an aunt, even making trips to Holland and Scotland. And when her sister died during a smallpox epidemic in 1694, the assumption was that Anne was next in line to inherit upon William's death. He was an in-law and cousin, but had been only a co-ruler and was not a direct Stuart descendant. There was an understanding of her position.
She had also become deeply involved in the two most significant relationships of her life, though some might argue that there were three. The predominant person in her circle was her husband, with whom she obviously had a special bond. Anne Stuart holds the record for the number of pregnancies for one monarch--at least sixteen, though many historians argue eighteen. It would seem that this made for a lively household, but such was not the case. Only five of the children survived their first days, and four of those died around the age of two. The Duke of Gloucester, little William, provided the sole source of any real hope. But there were rumors that he suffered from hydrocephalus, and the boy died at the age of eleven in 1700. Say what you will, but this woman, whether standing or reclining with the consort, gave her all for her country.
The other truly important person in the queen's life was her best friend, Sarah Churchill--Lady of the Bedchamber, wife of the great war hero John, Duke of Marlborough (created so by King William), and ancestor to both Winston Churchill and Princess Diana. Her relationship with Anne was chronicled by witnesses and recorded in their letters. So close were the pair that formalities were set aside. Sarah was "Mrs. Freeman," as opposed to the Duchess, and Anne became "Mrs. Morley," not Your Majesty. Seldom has a relationship between two women in such different stations existed. Churchill kept secrets, soothed wounds, and offered advice. Her lack of artifice could be disarming. It was known that she believed the queen "meant well and was not a fool, but . . . [was not] wise, nor entertaining in conversation." Sarah's heavy-handed meddling in the affairs of the queen, their numerous quarrels (including an accusation by Churchill that the ruler was a lesbian), and her lack of understanding at the loss of Prince George all led to the dissolution of the friendship, at Anne's instigation, in 1710.
The third attraction that drew much attention was that of the Stuart monarch to alcohol. Friends and detractors alike referred to her as "Brandy Nan," in honor of her favorite drink, which she consumed prolifically. In determining the possible reasons she failed to produce an heir, scholars discuss a myriad of options from lupus to diabetes to rhesus incompatability. But what of fetal alcohol syndrome or the effect of the wine on diabetes if she was afflicted with the disease? At any rate, brandy did not do for Nan what Nan did for it.
As the queen aged, her body became tremendously worn out--pregnancies, stress, and alcohol all did their part. She developed a severe case of gout and grew extremely overweight. Her last years were spent on a wheeled slant board, which served as a makeshift wheelchair because she could no longer move about on her own.
When she died of a stroke in 1714, Queen Anne was only 49 years old, but she was so large and depleted that the unwieldy body had to be placed in an especially large and rather misshapen coffin. "Brandy Nan" had lived through the loss of all her immediate family members, including as many as 18 children. She had travelled the world, been widowed, lost the comfort of her closest friend, and weathered wars and political storms. Yet, despite her best efforts, there was no Stuart to continue the dynasty. The British were forced, after a bit of a crisis, to turn to Germany. There, they chose distant cousins, the Hanovers, to assume the throne. George I became king that year.
A queen is a queen, but she is also a woman after all. The political intrigue might have been manageable, but Anne Stuart, youngest daughter of the deposed James II, abused her body with alcohol and risked it with innumerable pregnancies. The emotional and physical trauma she suffered was profound. While James had believed he ruled by "Divine Right," it seems that his daughter survived so long only by the luck of the draw.
Even her doctor said, "sleep was never more welcome to a weary traveller than death was to her." She was interred in Westminter Abbey. May she rest peacefully at last.
VK
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Henry as a Husband
"Divorced, beheaded, died. Divorced, beheaded, survived."
This is a little rhyme that English children have learned for hundreds of years to commemorate the fates of the six wives of Henry VIII. He was the second monarch in the great Tudor dynasty, of which much can be said. But the word "boring" will seldom, if ever, enter the conversation, especially where the mistresses of the castle are concerned.
Henry married for the first time in 1509 at the age of 17. His bride was the six years older Catherine of Aragon, a beautiful, fair-haired Spanish princess, daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, and the widow of the prince's older brother, Arthur. The union sealed an alliance between their two countries, but the teenage husband did not love the confused bride. Even so, for 24 years, she was a popular consort, renowned for her beauty and her lack of grandiosity. She also bore a daughter, Mary, but produced no male heir.
Then the young--and fertile--Anne Boleyn entered the picture, which did not bode well for her queen. This young woman (her age is uncertain) was intelligent, charismatic, and the sister of the king's mistress. She was a shining star at court, and it was inevitable that she too should attract his attention. But Henry was Catholic, and divorce was verboten. In addition, he had received a papal dispensation to marry Catherine. Things were getting complicated.
And the English world turned upside down. Anne introduced her lover to revolutionary thinkers, like Martin Luther. And when the Pope refused several requests to terminate his marriage. Henry eventually broke with the papal realm completely, creating himself head of the newly-minted Church of England. As such, he granted his own annulment. None of this went smoothly, for obvious reasons. It was a religious rebellion, and much political wrangling was involved. But in the end, Catherine was declared "our beloved sister," as per her marriage to Arthur, and she and Mary were shipped off to a convent in the countryside. A very pregnant Anne was declared wife and queen in June of 1533.
Despite her fertility, the young woman also failed to provide a male heir, and she most definitely lacked both serenity and submissiveness. While the first-born child would become the great Queen Elizabeth, Henry could not foresee this. He loved the mother well, but not long. After false pregnancies, miscarriages, and stillbirths, he lost interest, and his roving eye fell upon another.
In early 1536, the king declared that his queen was not only a witch--she was guilty of incest. True, she had a small growth, which was the beginning of a sixth finger, on one hand, and her clothes were cut to fit accordingly (thus Queen Anne sleeves). There were also rumors of a third nipple, and these things could be used against her in any accusations of black magic. But her relationship with her brother, George, could be viewed as no closer than that of any other siblings. In March the pair were arrested and convicted of incest and treason against their ruler. The following May, Anne Boleyn was beheaded. Having seen numerous executions become absolute butchery, she asked for a French swordsman, knelt upright as he instructed, and was murdered with a single blow.
Ten days later, the incredibly impatient Henry married a lady in waiting, Jane Seymour, who produced the longed for son the very next year (this would be Edward VI). But the difficult birth ended the shy and meek woman's life. With three wives dead, the monarch mourned only the bride who had given him a son, brief though their union had been.
In his search for a mother to rear the boy, Henry next chose Anne of Cleves, a small Protestant region considered important if there were war with Catholic Spain. Holbein had presented a portrait of the young woman, which depicted her as pleasing enough, and she and the ruler of England were married. But Henry felt no physical attraction. Calling the girl "The Flanders Mare," he soon filed for an annulment. She smartly testified that the marriage had not been consummated, as though it would have mattered, and the union was dissolved. Another "King's Sister" was given a grand estate as a parting gift. Thank you for playing.
Within weeks, hungry Henry was united in wedlock once again. That same year of 1540, he married a courtier and Boleyn cousin, Catherine Howard--his "rose without thorn." Here, he believed, he had found the perfect wife, intelligent but pure and submissive. But the rose dished it out better than her husband. The palace was filled with her lovers, former and current, including her secretary, whom she had originally planned to marry. And the brazen woman made little attempt to hide the affairs. She could have been no more than 22 upon her execution just two years after becoming the queen. Such was a dangerous occupation indeed, especially for a very prickly pear.
Now in his fifties, but already old, sickly, tired, and a bit chastened, Henry VIII married the widow Catherine Parr in 1543. She was much younger, but possessed of great intelligence and charm. Her maturity also made her quite capable of having a civil argument with anyone in court, including her willful husband. She was very liberal, but unlike Anne Boleyn, she did not change the political or religious views he espoused. The king had originally spotted her working in the manor of daughter Mary Tudor. Unbeknownst to him, she had already fallen in love with Thomas Seymour, uncle to the little prince, and it is likely that their relationship continued throughout the royal marriage.
But our Catherine was, this time, a survivor. Henry VIII died in January of 1547. He was 55 and a half years old, grossly overweight, extremely self-indulgent, possessed of a cruel streak, exceedingly childish, and rumored to be syphilitic. His sixth queen had reunited him with his daughters, and, while Edward VI assumed the throne first, all three of the Tudor children would reign successively.
So Parr escaped the marriage with her life, and Seymour became her fourth husband. This, however, was a misstep. She became pregnant for the first and only time in her 35 years, gave birth to a daughter, Mary, in August, 1548, and died a few days later of puerperal fever. Her widower had become involved in court intrigue, and most likely an affair with the young Princess Elizabeth, The result of all this was his execution the following year. Their little daughter soon disappeared from public records.
The moral of the story seems to be that if you survive the Tudor roundabout, get off and leave the fairgrounds. Had Catherine Parr retired to country life as a young widow, she might have lived a long and happy life. But the Tudor luck, or lack thereof, was contagious. Even in death, her body was disturbed several times before the early 19th Century, when she was interred in a final resting place.
Did she really survive? One might say yes, they all did, for they live in rhyme, legend, myth, and history. Then again, life as a mate of Henry Tudor was nothing less than a game of roulette.
VK
This is a little rhyme that English children have learned for hundreds of years to commemorate the fates of the six wives of Henry VIII. He was the second monarch in the great Tudor dynasty, of which much can be said. But the word "boring" will seldom, if ever, enter the conversation, especially where the mistresses of the castle are concerned.
Henry married for the first time in 1509 at the age of 17. His bride was the six years older Catherine of Aragon, a beautiful, fair-haired Spanish princess, daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella, and the widow of the prince's older brother, Arthur. The union sealed an alliance between their two countries, but the teenage husband did not love the confused bride. Even so, for 24 years, she was a popular consort, renowned for her beauty and her lack of grandiosity. She also bore a daughter, Mary, but produced no male heir.
Then the young--and fertile--Anne Boleyn entered the picture, which did not bode well for her queen. This young woman (her age is uncertain) was intelligent, charismatic, and the sister of the king's mistress. She was a shining star at court, and it was inevitable that she too should attract his attention. But Henry was Catholic, and divorce was verboten. In addition, he had received a papal dispensation to marry Catherine. Things were getting complicated.
And the English world turned upside down. Anne introduced her lover to revolutionary thinkers, like Martin Luther. And when the Pope refused several requests to terminate his marriage. Henry eventually broke with the papal realm completely, creating himself head of the newly-minted Church of England. As such, he granted his own annulment. None of this went smoothly, for obvious reasons. It was a religious rebellion, and much political wrangling was involved. But in the end, Catherine was declared "our beloved sister," as per her marriage to Arthur, and she and Mary were shipped off to a convent in the countryside. A very pregnant Anne was declared wife and queen in June of 1533.
Despite her fertility, the young woman also failed to provide a male heir, and she most definitely lacked both serenity and submissiveness. While the first-born child would become the great Queen Elizabeth, Henry could not foresee this. He loved the mother well, but not long. After false pregnancies, miscarriages, and stillbirths, he lost interest, and his roving eye fell upon another.
In early 1536, the king declared that his queen was not only a witch--she was guilty of incest. True, she had a small growth, which was the beginning of a sixth finger, on one hand, and her clothes were cut to fit accordingly (thus Queen Anne sleeves). There were also rumors of a third nipple, and these things could be used against her in any accusations of black magic. But her relationship with her brother, George, could be viewed as no closer than that of any other siblings. In March the pair were arrested and convicted of incest and treason against their ruler. The following May, Anne Boleyn was beheaded. Having seen numerous executions become absolute butchery, she asked for a French swordsman, knelt upright as he instructed, and was murdered with a single blow.
Ten days later, the incredibly impatient Henry married a lady in waiting, Jane Seymour, who produced the longed for son the very next year (this would be Edward VI). But the difficult birth ended the shy and meek woman's life. With three wives dead, the monarch mourned only the bride who had given him a son, brief though their union had been.
In his search for a mother to rear the boy, Henry next chose Anne of Cleves, a small Protestant region considered important if there were war with Catholic Spain. Holbein had presented a portrait of the young woman, which depicted her as pleasing enough, and she and the ruler of England were married. But Henry felt no physical attraction. Calling the girl "The Flanders Mare," he soon filed for an annulment. She smartly testified that the marriage had not been consummated, as though it would have mattered, and the union was dissolved. Another "King's Sister" was given a grand estate as a parting gift. Thank you for playing.
Within weeks, hungry Henry was united in wedlock once again. That same year of 1540, he married a courtier and Boleyn cousin, Catherine Howard--his "rose without thorn." Here, he believed, he had found the perfect wife, intelligent but pure and submissive. But the rose dished it out better than her husband. The palace was filled with her lovers, former and current, including her secretary, whom she had originally planned to marry. And the brazen woman made little attempt to hide the affairs. She could have been no more than 22 upon her execution just two years after becoming the queen. Such was a dangerous occupation indeed, especially for a very prickly pear.
Now in his fifties, but already old, sickly, tired, and a bit chastened, Henry VIII married the widow Catherine Parr in 1543. She was much younger, but possessed of great intelligence and charm. Her maturity also made her quite capable of having a civil argument with anyone in court, including her willful husband. She was very liberal, but unlike Anne Boleyn, she did not change the political or religious views he espoused. The king had originally spotted her working in the manor of daughter Mary Tudor. Unbeknownst to him, she had already fallen in love with Thomas Seymour, uncle to the little prince, and it is likely that their relationship continued throughout the royal marriage.
But our Catherine was, this time, a survivor. Henry VIII died in January of 1547. He was 55 and a half years old, grossly overweight, extremely self-indulgent, possessed of a cruel streak, exceedingly childish, and rumored to be syphilitic. His sixth queen had reunited him with his daughters, and, while Edward VI assumed the throne first, all three of the Tudor children would reign successively.
So Parr escaped the marriage with her life, and Seymour became her fourth husband. This, however, was a misstep. She became pregnant for the first and only time in her 35 years, gave birth to a daughter, Mary, in August, 1548, and died a few days later of puerperal fever. Her widower had become involved in court intrigue, and most likely an affair with the young Princess Elizabeth, The result of all this was his execution the following year. Their little daughter soon disappeared from public records.
The moral of the story seems to be that if you survive the Tudor roundabout, get off and leave the fairgrounds. Had Catherine Parr retired to country life as a young widow, she might have lived a long and happy life. But the Tudor luck, or lack thereof, was contagious. Even in death, her body was disturbed several times before the early 19th Century, when she was interred in a final resting place.
Did she really survive? One might say yes, they all did, for they live in rhyme, legend, myth, and history. Then again, life as a mate of Henry Tudor was nothing less than a game of roulette.
VK
Monday, December 13, 2010
A Fork in the Road
Not too long ago, we talked about the celibate Shakers, and of course every coin has a flip side. In direct opposition to the beliefs of that sect would be those of the Oneida Community. This particular organization was founded in the early 1830's by a Dartmouth scholar named John Humphrey Noyse.
Here was a different sort of man with a unique set of convictions. He taught his followers that Christ had returned in the year 70 A.D., and the Kingdom of God was at hand. His Oneidans lived a communal existence, sharing small village homes, stores, and churches (though they had no regular service). While Noyse had been defrocked in college, losing his ministerial license, he simply continued to preach without it.
Sermons dealt with their way of life and the issues of the group. He was the undisputed leader in this new paradise, where men and women practiced "complex marriage." This meant that, while some unions were legal in the eyes of the state, the great man himself arranged or approved all others, and no couple was monogamous. Women who no longer menstruated were expected to introduce young men to the mysteries of sex, and young girls willingly gave their virginity to much older males under the same principle. Any couple who desired each other approached Noyse for a yea or nay, and he coined the term "free love" to describe these spontaneous unions. In his eyes, every man was married to every woman.
The Oneidans used two other very unusual practices for their day and time. Birth control was achieved to some degree by sex without ejaculation. This was by no means a full-proof system (so don't get any ideas) as it was not possible in every planned instance. Accidents will happen. This became part of the canon when the preacher decided that if a man "spilled his seed" without procreation, it was no different from the "senseless" act of masturbation.
In addition, the new kingdom demanded a new people, so the members practiced eugenics. Noyse often chose the best "breeders" to produce children, not for the sake of love but for appearance, intelligence, and strength. At any rate neither parent would claim the offspring; the child would be placed in a communal nursery and cared for by women assigned to work there. This seems almost ant-like rather than human, but remember that in a communal society, no one claims ownership of anything--or anyone.
While the Oneida Community was loosely ruled by committee, all were expected to cooperate joyfully. Those who exhibited bad attitudes or other undesirable traits that detracted from the atmosphere were subjected to communal criticism. This was a process of shaming, where the offender was placed in the center of a meeting hall or church while the audience pointed out all of his or her unpleasant characteristics. This was justified in the name of improvement, though the reactions were not always positive.
Among the Noysians, women worked, served, loved, and lived on an equal par with men. Quite often, they wore pants under short skirts. And while the communities were originally farming establishments, Oneida became renowned for its tableware. The spoon you just put into your sink may very well have been designed by one of these "hippies" over 200 years ago. Their silver provided a healthy income that allowed them to live on their own terms.
But the law did not. Noyse was jailed more than once, not just for his words, but also for his actions. In 1879, he was charged with statutory rape. Before he could be arrested, he fled to an Oneida factory in Canada, never to return. He continued to control the communities, large and small, by letter and messenger until his death in 1886.
John Humphrey Noyse was returned to Oneida, New York, and buried in the communal cemetery at the insistence of those who had relied upon him so diligently throughout most of his life. By this time, complex marriage had started to fall apart, and the organization was breaking under the strain of social pressure. As they bowed to convention, they also organized the factories into Oneida LTD, a joint stock company, which would practice a more traditional form of business.
Ironically enough, this utopia was very attractive to radicals. Both Charles Guiteau, who assassinated President Garfield, and Leon Czolgosz, who killed President McKinley, spent many hours under communal criticism. Apparently, they did not take it constructively.
VK
Here was a different sort of man with a unique set of convictions. He taught his followers that Christ had returned in the year 70 A.D., and the Kingdom of God was at hand. His Oneidans lived a communal existence, sharing small village homes, stores, and churches (though they had no regular service). While Noyse had been defrocked in college, losing his ministerial license, he simply continued to preach without it.
Sermons dealt with their way of life and the issues of the group. He was the undisputed leader in this new paradise, where men and women practiced "complex marriage." This meant that, while some unions were legal in the eyes of the state, the great man himself arranged or approved all others, and no couple was monogamous. Women who no longer menstruated were expected to introduce young men to the mysteries of sex, and young girls willingly gave their virginity to much older males under the same principle. Any couple who desired each other approached Noyse for a yea or nay, and he coined the term "free love" to describe these spontaneous unions. In his eyes, every man was married to every woman.
The Oneidans used two other very unusual practices for their day and time. Birth control was achieved to some degree by sex without ejaculation. This was by no means a full-proof system (so don't get any ideas) as it was not possible in every planned instance. Accidents will happen. This became part of the canon when the preacher decided that if a man "spilled his seed" without procreation, it was no different from the "senseless" act of masturbation.
In addition, the new kingdom demanded a new people, so the members practiced eugenics. Noyse often chose the best "breeders" to produce children, not for the sake of love but for appearance, intelligence, and strength. At any rate neither parent would claim the offspring; the child would be placed in a communal nursery and cared for by women assigned to work there. This seems almost ant-like rather than human, but remember that in a communal society, no one claims ownership of anything--or anyone.
While the Oneida Community was loosely ruled by committee, all were expected to cooperate joyfully. Those who exhibited bad attitudes or other undesirable traits that detracted from the atmosphere were subjected to communal criticism. This was a process of shaming, where the offender was placed in the center of a meeting hall or church while the audience pointed out all of his or her unpleasant characteristics. This was justified in the name of improvement, though the reactions were not always positive.
Among the Noysians, women worked, served, loved, and lived on an equal par with men. Quite often, they wore pants under short skirts. And while the communities were originally farming establishments, Oneida became renowned for its tableware. The spoon you just put into your sink may very well have been designed by one of these "hippies" over 200 years ago. Their silver provided a healthy income that allowed them to live on their own terms.
But the law did not. Noyse was jailed more than once, not just for his words, but also for his actions. In 1879, he was charged with statutory rape. Before he could be arrested, he fled to an Oneida factory in Canada, never to return. He continued to control the communities, large and small, by letter and messenger until his death in 1886.
John Humphrey Noyse was returned to Oneida, New York, and buried in the communal cemetery at the insistence of those who had relied upon him so diligently throughout most of his life. By this time, complex marriage had started to fall apart, and the organization was breaking under the strain of social pressure. As they bowed to convention, they also organized the factories into Oneida LTD, a joint stock company, which would practice a more traditional form of business.
Ironically enough, this utopia was very attractive to radicals. Both Charles Guiteau, who assassinated President Garfield, and Leon Czolgosz, who killed President McKinley, spent many hours under communal criticism. Apparently, they did not take it constructively.
VK
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
A Being So Gentle and So Virtuous
There have been innumerable political scandals down through the years, but one of the first to involve romance and gain national attention concerned the marriage of Rachel and Andrew Jackson. This was a real love story. And it caused the seventh president more than his share of sorrow.
The pair met when the frontiersman moved to Nashville in 1788 and became a boarder in the Rachel Donelson home. The owner's daughter, also named Rachel, was already married to Captain Lewis Robards, but their union was notoriously unhappy. She was very naive and had chosen a man she did not yet know well. She soon discovered that her new spouse was bossy, irrational, and ill tempered. In a nutshell, he treated her cruelly, and the girl was experiencing some difficulty in holding the relationship together. Then Old Hickory, as he was known, entered the picture,
Here was a man popular for his gallantry, bravery, and heroism. Jackson was of Irish descent, had been orphaned at an early age, remained steadfast in his affection for his mother, and, though hot-headed, behaved respectfully toward women. Upon observing Robards' treatment of the young woman, he quite naturally felt pity for her. But this quickly developed into something much stronger. He not only wanted to rescue Rachel from her troubles, he found himself falling deeply in love with her. And she returned his affection wholeheartedly.
But here is where the story, though not the outcome, derails. While they seemed the perfect match--Mrs. Robards was known to smoke a corncob pipe or dip snuff, while her paramour was a hard bitten loner who took on all comers and had already killed more than one man in a duel over principles--a major dilemma presented itself. How were the pair to get her husband out of the picture? Marriages just were not undone at this point in time, at least not in the hills of Tennessee.
But it seems, as well as anyone can tell, that, after one particularly vicious incident in 1789, the captain abandoned his wife and said he would petition the legislature for a bill of divorcement. Hard to believe that it took a literal act of congress to undo a marital union, but such was the case. So he rode off into the sunset, leaving the young lovers on their own. Within a couple of years, the accepted belief is that Jackson heard somehow that the bill had passed, and he and Rachel married while still in their early twenties.
But this was not the happy ending it should have been. Robards' continued involvement in affairs pertaining to Rachel's property soon made it obvious that the divorce was not final. So she and Andrew Jackson, though living together as loving husband and wife all along, were not legally married until January of 1794, after she finally obtained the first legitimate divorce in Tennessee. The couple quietly renewed their vows, but this did not settle the issue. The groom was a political man, well-known throughout the nation. And his wife was condemned as a bigamist.
Today, this would make for fantastic tabloid fodder, and even then it was well publicized. At one point, as Jackson sat drinking with friends in a country tavern, he found himself defending Rachel's honor, and not for the first time. A stranger remarked on the state of her virtue, or lack thereof, and this led to the inevitable duel. The offender hit the challenger first, but still took a fatal bullet. When the wounded Jackson was questioned as to how he could manage to fire a pistol at all, much less kill someone, after suffering such a severe injury, his reply was simple: "I would have killed him had he shot me in the head." Such were the obstacles the couple faced.
As time went on, the once gregarious Rachel became withdrawn and quiet, refusing to leave their home any more often than necessary. When Jackson instigated the Revolution of 1828 with his presidential race, during which he sincerely presented himself as a common "man of the people," he had no prospective first lady along for the ride. Yet the slander reached a fever pitch. Almost anything negative that could be said of a woman was thrown in her face, including the charge that her mother's boarding house had actually been a brothel. And she chose to remain in Nashville, tending her garden.
In spite of all the mud-slinging, Jackson defeated John Quincy Adams and became the newly-elected Democratic president of the United States. But Rachel had been defeated. This had not been another battle; it was a fully waged war. She had taken ill. and in March, 1825, the night before the Inaugural Ball, she died in her bed, holding her husband's hand.
The president was crushed. This was a love that he had been willing to die for, and now she was gone. At first, he denied the obvious, demanding more blankets be placed upon her body so that she would not catch a chill. When she neither warmed nor woke, Jackson sank into a lifelong grief. He had her entombed in her flower garden, and, in his post-White House years, visited the burial site every morning and every evening.
Rachel's painting hung at the foot of the president's bed so that he could see her face each day, and the monument he had erected in her garden carried a lengthy inscription in tribute. It read, in part, "Her face was fair, her person pleasing, her temper amiable, and her heart kind. . . . Her pity went hand in hand with her benevolence, and she thanked her Creator for being able to do good. A being so gentle and so virtuous, slander might wound but could not dishonor. Even death, when he tore her from the arms of her husband, could but transplant her to the bosom of God."
So love can be real and true, even when windblown and tossed about on stormy seas. While not all survive in a physical incarnation, they live forever in the hearts of their lovers. Jackson said of Rachel, "Heaven will be no heaven for me if she is not there." He joined her in 1845.
VK
The pair met when the frontiersman moved to Nashville in 1788 and became a boarder in the Rachel Donelson home. The owner's daughter, also named Rachel, was already married to Captain Lewis Robards, but their union was notoriously unhappy. She was very naive and had chosen a man she did not yet know well. She soon discovered that her new spouse was bossy, irrational, and ill tempered. In a nutshell, he treated her cruelly, and the girl was experiencing some difficulty in holding the relationship together. Then Old Hickory, as he was known, entered the picture,
Here was a man popular for his gallantry, bravery, and heroism. Jackson was of Irish descent, had been orphaned at an early age, remained steadfast in his affection for his mother, and, though hot-headed, behaved respectfully toward women. Upon observing Robards' treatment of the young woman, he quite naturally felt pity for her. But this quickly developed into something much stronger. He not only wanted to rescue Rachel from her troubles, he found himself falling deeply in love with her. And she returned his affection wholeheartedly.
But here is where the story, though not the outcome, derails. While they seemed the perfect match--Mrs. Robards was known to smoke a corncob pipe or dip snuff, while her paramour was a hard bitten loner who took on all comers and had already killed more than one man in a duel over principles--a major dilemma presented itself. How were the pair to get her husband out of the picture? Marriages just were not undone at this point in time, at least not in the hills of Tennessee.
But it seems, as well as anyone can tell, that, after one particularly vicious incident in 1789, the captain abandoned his wife and said he would petition the legislature for a bill of divorcement. Hard to believe that it took a literal act of congress to undo a marital union, but such was the case. So he rode off into the sunset, leaving the young lovers on their own. Within a couple of years, the accepted belief is that Jackson heard somehow that the bill had passed, and he and Rachel married while still in their early twenties.
But this was not the happy ending it should have been. Robards' continued involvement in affairs pertaining to Rachel's property soon made it obvious that the divorce was not final. So she and Andrew Jackson, though living together as loving husband and wife all along, were not legally married until January of 1794, after she finally obtained the first legitimate divorce in Tennessee. The couple quietly renewed their vows, but this did not settle the issue. The groom was a political man, well-known throughout the nation. And his wife was condemned as a bigamist.
Today, this would make for fantastic tabloid fodder, and even then it was well publicized. At one point, as Jackson sat drinking with friends in a country tavern, he found himself defending Rachel's honor, and not for the first time. A stranger remarked on the state of her virtue, or lack thereof, and this led to the inevitable duel. The offender hit the challenger first, but still took a fatal bullet. When the wounded Jackson was questioned as to how he could manage to fire a pistol at all, much less kill someone, after suffering such a severe injury, his reply was simple: "I would have killed him had he shot me in the head." Such were the obstacles the couple faced.
As time went on, the once gregarious Rachel became withdrawn and quiet, refusing to leave their home any more often than necessary. When Jackson instigated the Revolution of 1828 with his presidential race, during which he sincerely presented himself as a common "man of the people," he had no prospective first lady along for the ride. Yet the slander reached a fever pitch. Almost anything negative that could be said of a woman was thrown in her face, including the charge that her mother's boarding house had actually been a brothel. And she chose to remain in Nashville, tending her garden.
In spite of all the mud-slinging, Jackson defeated John Quincy Adams and became the newly-elected Democratic president of the United States. But Rachel had been defeated. This had not been another battle; it was a fully waged war. She had taken ill. and in March, 1825, the night before the Inaugural Ball, she died in her bed, holding her husband's hand.
The president was crushed. This was a love that he had been willing to die for, and now she was gone. At first, he denied the obvious, demanding more blankets be placed upon her body so that she would not catch a chill. When she neither warmed nor woke, Jackson sank into a lifelong grief. He had her entombed in her flower garden, and, in his post-White House years, visited the burial site every morning and every evening.
Rachel's painting hung at the foot of the president's bed so that he could see her face each day, and the monument he had erected in her garden carried a lengthy inscription in tribute. It read, in part, "Her face was fair, her person pleasing, her temper amiable, and her heart kind. . . . Her pity went hand in hand with her benevolence, and she thanked her Creator for being able to do good. A being so gentle and so virtuous, slander might wound but could not dishonor. Even death, when he tore her from the arms of her husband, could but transplant her to the bosom of God."
So love can be real and true, even when windblown and tossed about on stormy seas. While not all survive in a physical incarnation, they live forever in the hearts of their lovers. Jackson said of Rachel, "Heaven will be no heaven for me if she is not there." He joined her in 1845.
VK
Monday, December 6, 2010
Really Dead Presidents
For some indecipherable reason, anytime the death of a president is mentioned, only two names come to mind--Lincoln and Kennedy. In actuality, eight men have lost their lives while occupying the highest office in the land, and four of these were killed. So let's give them their due, whatever it may be.
The record holder for shortest term is William Henry Harrison, elected in 1840 as a Whig (a precursor to the Republican Party). This man had held numerous public positions and was a military hero. When he was took office in March, 1841, his tough exterior belied a weaker constitution. It was cold and rainy, yet he refused to dress for the weather and spoke for 2 hours at his inauguration. Within days, he exhibited the obvious symptoms of a cold, and, after only 31 days in the White House, he died of pneumonia. As this was the first such occurrence, there was a moment of governmental panic before Vice-President John Tyler succeeded him.
The much maligned Millard Fillmore became president as a result of the passing of his predecessor, Zachary Taylor. He was "Old Fuss and Feathers," a war hero and Whig like Harrison, who served for two years before he lost his life to gastroenteritis. He was only 65 years old. This led to such rampant and persistent speculation that he had been poisoned that his body was exhumed in 1991 for an autopsy. The conclusion was that a gastric attack was the sole culprit.
The third president to lose his life while serving his country was Lincoln. There's not much to say here. The story of Booth and Ford's Theater has been told in poetry, song, and book for almost 150 years. Suffice it to say that the 56 year old Rail Splitter died on April 15, 1865, as a result of a shot to the head. His death plunged the country into despair and more years of darkness following those of the Civil War. As a side note, he had been a Whig who, like most of his fellow party members, became a Republican with the birth of the GOP.
In 1881, President James A. Garfield became the second assassinated president. He served only 199 days before Charles Guiteau felled him with two bullets. The assassin was disgruntled that he had been denied a federal post, and Garfield was simply walking down the street to a meeting. Some interesting things came of this. Alexander Graham Bell invented the metal detector to help find the shot lodged in the president's spine, and the civil service system was created to promote professionalism in governmental positions, as well curb favoritism and the expectation thereof. The 49 year old Republican also died from complications due to infection, not the actual wounds Guiteau inflicted.
The great Teddy Roosevelt became president in 1901 when Leon Czolgosz, an unbalanced anarchist, shot William McKinley, previously elected for a second term on the Republican ticket. The man fired two rounds after approaching the McKinleys at the Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo, New York. One bullet was removed, but the other could not be located. After over a week of suffering, the president finally died at the age of 58.
In 1923, Warren G. Harding died of "natural causes" almost three years into his term. Or did he? The newspapers reported that this Republican had succumbed to food poisoning, and rumors abounded. Harding was somewhat attached to his First Lady, many believed unnaturally so. He insisted that they never spend a night apart, that they meet as often as possible throughout the day to talk, and that "Flo" read him to sleep at night. The two had no children, and a woman can only take so much. Her lack of great misery at his loss, combined with the public knowledge of their relationship, led many to insist that she had poisoned him. It would have been simple enough. They were on a cross-country tour, during which he had become the first president to visit Alaska, and his last meal in their train car was one of oysters. Historians have since concluded that Harding died from a heart attack at 57. So Flo is off the hook.
The final two who died in office are still the subjects of movies, TV, plays, books, and other materials. Both were Democrats. Franklin Roosevelt suffered a cerebral hemorrhage and died at 63 while visiting Warm Springs, Georgia, in 1945. This was during an unprecedented fourth term. Perhaps the most notable thing about his death was that daughter Anna had arranged for a former mistress, Lucy Mercer, to meet her father at the family cottage there. He left behind a world at war with evil and a wife at war with her feelings for him.
And the eighth president who passed away while in office was John F Kennedy (elected in 1960 at 43), assassinated in Dallas, Texas, on November 22, 1963. Here again, the Warren Commission Report investigating the incident, the Zapruder film of the actual event, eyewitness accounts, newspaper reports, and tons of theories all exist and primarily contradict each other. But Lee Harvey Oswald did kill Kennedy and then meet with the same fate at the hand of Jack Ruby. This loss changed life for everyone.
There have been dead presidents indeed, for all sorts of reasons. Think of the Enquirer headlines for some, like Harding: "She Did It! Wife Confesses To Friend That She Couldn't Take It Anymore!" Also remember that the Secret Service existed solely to police the U.S. Treasury until the McKinley assassination, when its role expanded. And who created the organization in the first place? Ironically, it was Lincoln, a man with a fatal sense of destiny.
VK
The record holder for shortest term is William Henry Harrison, elected in 1840 as a Whig (a precursor to the Republican Party). This man had held numerous public positions and was a military hero. When he was took office in March, 1841, his tough exterior belied a weaker constitution. It was cold and rainy, yet he refused to dress for the weather and spoke for 2 hours at his inauguration. Within days, he exhibited the obvious symptoms of a cold, and, after only 31 days in the White House, he died of pneumonia. As this was the first such occurrence, there was a moment of governmental panic before Vice-President John Tyler succeeded him.
The much maligned Millard Fillmore became president as a result of the passing of his predecessor, Zachary Taylor. He was "Old Fuss and Feathers," a war hero and Whig like Harrison, who served for two years before he lost his life to gastroenteritis. He was only 65 years old. This led to such rampant and persistent speculation that he had been poisoned that his body was exhumed in 1991 for an autopsy. The conclusion was that a gastric attack was the sole culprit.
The third president to lose his life while serving his country was Lincoln. There's not much to say here. The story of Booth and Ford's Theater has been told in poetry, song, and book for almost 150 years. Suffice it to say that the 56 year old Rail Splitter died on April 15, 1865, as a result of a shot to the head. His death plunged the country into despair and more years of darkness following those of the Civil War. As a side note, he had been a Whig who, like most of his fellow party members, became a Republican with the birth of the GOP.
In 1881, President James A. Garfield became the second assassinated president. He served only 199 days before Charles Guiteau felled him with two bullets. The assassin was disgruntled that he had been denied a federal post, and Garfield was simply walking down the street to a meeting. Some interesting things came of this. Alexander Graham Bell invented the metal detector to help find the shot lodged in the president's spine, and the civil service system was created to promote professionalism in governmental positions, as well curb favoritism and the expectation thereof. The 49 year old Republican also died from complications due to infection, not the actual wounds Guiteau inflicted.
The great Teddy Roosevelt became president in 1901 when Leon Czolgosz, an unbalanced anarchist, shot William McKinley, previously elected for a second term on the Republican ticket. The man fired two rounds after approaching the McKinleys at the Pan-American Exposition in Buffalo, New York. One bullet was removed, but the other could not be located. After over a week of suffering, the president finally died at the age of 58.
In 1923, Warren G. Harding died of "natural causes" almost three years into his term. Or did he? The newspapers reported that this Republican had succumbed to food poisoning, and rumors abounded. Harding was somewhat attached to his First Lady, many believed unnaturally so. He insisted that they never spend a night apart, that they meet as often as possible throughout the day to talk, and that "Flo" read him to sleep at night. The two had no children, and a woman can only take so much. Her lack of great misery at his loss, combined with the public knowledge of their relationship, led many to insist that she had poisoned him. It would have been simple enough. They were on a cross-country tour, during which he had become the first president to visit Alaska, and his last meal in their train car was one of oysters. Historians have since concluded that Harding died from a heart attack at 57. So Flo is off the hook.
The final two who died in office are still the subjects of movies, TV, plays, books, and other materials. Both were Democrats. Franklin Roosevelt suffered a cerebral hemorrhage and died at 63 while visiting Warm Springs, Georgia, in 1945. This was during an unprecedented fourth term. Perhaps the most notable thing about his death was that daughter Anna had arranged for a former mistress, Lucy Mercer, to meet her father at the family cottage there. He left behind a world at war with evil and a wife at war with her feelings for him.
And the eighth president who passed away while in office was John F Kennedy (elected in 1960 at 43), assassinated in Dallas, Texas, on November 22, 1963. Here again, the Warren Commission Report investigating the incident, the Zapruder film of the actual event, eyewitness accounts, newspaper reports, and tons of theories all exist and primarily contradict each other. But Lee Harvey Oswald did kill Kennedy and then meet with the same fate at the hand of Jack Ruby. This loss changed life for everyone.
There have been dead presidents indeed, for all sorts of reasons. Think of the Enquirer headlines for some, like Harding: "She Did It! Wife Confesses To Friend That She Couldn't Take It Anymore!" Also remember that the Secret Service existed solely to police the U.S. Treasury until the McKinley assassination, when its role expanded. And who created the organization in the first place? Ironically, it was Lincoln, a man with a fatal sense of destiny.
VK
Sunday, December 5, 2010
The Mother of All Texans
The first recorded Anglo couple to immigrate to the province of Texas were James and Jane Long, considered a filibuster (uninvited trouble maker) and a lady. It isn't the terribly romantic story you might expect. As a matter of fact, Long was a bit of a jerk, a restless physician always seeking greener pastures. His wife was the niece of General James Wilkinson, commander of U.S. troops in Louisiana and a man possessed by a strongly contagious case of Texas Fever. The doctor himself was not immune.
In June of 1819, when he was 26, he and 80 men foolishly, to say the least, launched an invasion of the province. This original "Bay of Pigs" was a dismal failure, even though the force grew to 300 when some of the Tejanos (native Hispanic Texans) joined in. The Spanish Army easily ran the whole lot back into Louisiana.
The next year, Boomerang Long came back with 50 wild rovers from New Orleans--and Jane, all of 22 years old. True, she liked excitement, but this was an unusual situation in an unfamiliar land. To make things worse, her husband left her behind when he launched his new offensive that October. She remained in the makeshift fort they had built on Point Bolivar at the mouth of Galveston Bay. Her companions were her daughter, Rebecca, 14 months old, and Kian, a slave girl of about 14 years. Jane was also pregnant. This ain't Gone With the Wind. But she promised James she would wait, and wait she did.
Not surprisingly, Long failed a third time. He and his insurgents were set upon and captured by the Spanish at Goliad, in South Texas, taken to Mexico City, and given the hospitality of the finest prison there. But, because he had "connections" to Anglos in the federal government, the doctor was released. Ironically enough, this just saved the expense of a trial, for within hours he was "assassinated" in the city streets. I'll leave you to work out whether justice was served.
Meanwhile, back at the fort, Jane and Kian, now devastated by the death of Rebecca but joined by another baby girl, Ann, wondered. The time passed and 1820 became 1821. They were not exactly safe, for the Karankawa Indians of the area kept them company. There were problems with these neighbors, known to be a fierce lot. They wore their hair spiked, cared little for clothing, relied on oysters as a staple, smeared themselves with alligator grease (to fend off mosquitoes, and everything else)--oh, and they ate people. Yep, the Karankawa were cannibals, and here was a three piece meal of various meats. So Jane and Kian took to firing the only cannon at regular intervals, as long as the ammunition lasted.
Finally, in the spring of 1822, this Penelope and her little family got word of Long's death. A friend from New Orleans actually began to wonder where the woman was and if any one had bothered to report to her. Realizing she might know nothing of James' death, the man traveled to Point Bolivar, via deserted Galveston Island, to tell her.
So you assume this is it, right? Think again. The first Anglo woman known to give birth in Texas--in a fort in the bay with only a teen and an infant and terrifying locals for company--did not take the news of her husband's death lightly, nor did she hurry home to Louisiana. Instead, she began the search for Long's killer. She, her baby, and Kian all rode on horseback to San Antonio, then on to Mexico City. Finding no cooperation there, the little band continued on to Monterrey. But satisfaction was not to be found. None dared admit that they knew who killed the rebel leader. No one ever did.
After two years of trekking all over colonial Spanish America, Jane returned to New Orleans in 1824. But she could not be still. Years later, as an older woman, she made her way back to the Texas Gulf Coast to stay. She died in Richmond, south of Houston, in 1880, at the age of 82.
So, maybe the real romance in this tale was between the Longs and Texas. The next time someone talks about men on the frontier or the heroes who settled Texas, remind them that Jane Long, even in her loneliness, was the "Mother of Texas." She lived as a fighter and a survivor, while her husband managed to get himself killed.
VK
In June of 1819, when he was 26, he and 80 men foolishly, to say the least, launched an invasion of the province. This original "Bay of Pigs" was a dismal failure, even though the force grew to 300 when some of the Tejanos (native Hispanic Texans) joined in. The Spanish Army easily ran the whole lot back into Louisiana.
The next year, Boomerang Long came back with 50 wild rovers from New Orleans--and Jane, all of 22 years old. True, she liked excitement, but this was an unusual situation in an unfamiliar land. To make things worse, her husband left her behind when he launched his new offensive that October. She remained in the makeshift fort they had built on Point Bolivar at the mouth of Galveston Bay. Her companions were her daughter, Rebecca, 14 months old, and Kian, a slave girl of about 14 years. Jane was also pregnant. This ain't Gone With the Wind. But she promised James she would wait, and wait she did.
Not surprisingly, Long failed a third time. He and his insurgents were set upon and captured by the Spanish at Goliad, in South Texas, taken to Mexico City, and given the hospitality of the finest prison there. But, because he had "connections" to Anglos in the federal government, the doctor was released. Ironically enough, this just saved the expense of a trial, for within hours he was "assassinated" in the city streets. I'll leave you to work out whether justice was served.
Meanwhile, back at the fort, Jane and Kian, now devastated by the death of Rebecca but joined by another baby girl, Ann, wondered. The time passed and 1820 became 1821. They were not exactly safe, for the Karankawa Indians of the area kept them company. There were problems with these neighbors, known to be a fierce lot. They wore their hair spiked, cared little for clothing, relied on oysters as a staple, smeared themselves with alligator grease (to fend off mosquitoes, and everything else)--oh, and they ate people. Yep, the Karankawa were cannibals, and here was a three piece meal of various meats. So Jane and Kian took to firing the only cannon at regular intervals, as long as the ammunition lasted.
Finally, in the spring of 1822, this Penelope and her little family got word of Long's death. A friend from New Orleans actually began to wonder where the woman was and if any one had bothered to report to her. Realizing she might know nothing of James' death, the man traveled to Point Bolivar, via deserted Galveston Island, to tell her.
So you assume this is it, right? Think again. The first Anglo woman known to give birth in Texas--in a fort in the bay with only a teen and an infant and terrifying locals for company--did not take the news of her husband's death lightly, nor did she hurry home to Louisiana. Instead, she began the search for Long's killer. She, her baby, and Kian all rode on horseback to San Antonio, then on to Mexico City. Finding no cooperation there, the little band continued on to Monterrey. But satisfaction was not to be found. None dared admit that they knew who killed the rebel leader. No one ever did.
After two years of trekking all over colonial Spanish America, Jane returned to New Orleans in 1824. But she could not be still. Years later, as an older woman, she made her way back to the Texas Gulf Coast to stay. She died in Richmond, south of Houston, in 1880, at the age of 82.
So, maybe the real romance in this tale was between the Longs and Texas. The next time someone talks about men on the frontier or the heroes who settled Texas, remind them that Jane Long, even in her loneliness, was the "Mother of Texas." She lived as a fighter and a survivor, while her husband managed to get himself killed.
VK
Friday, December 3, 2010
When a Shaker Is Not Salty
Long before the foment and radicalism of the 1960s, the U.S. was beset with communes and seekers. Amongst the antebellum reformers were the Shakers, formally known as the United Society of Believers in Christ's Second Appearing. Quite a mouthful, you must admit, so let's go stick with Shakers.
The group was originally founded in 1747 Britain by "Mother Ann" Lee, who, after suffering the loss of several children, claimed to have been blessed with divine revelations. Among these was the belief that Eden fell because of sexual practices, she had been called to create a new paradise in preparation for the return of Jesus, and her role was that of creator of the new Kingdom of Christ. Originally, her followers were primarily women, but eventually she attracted men as well as married couples.
But the major tenant here was that sex was not a good thing. As a matter of fact, it was the root of all evil, so to speak. As a result, the Shakers were celibate--even if married upon joining the movement. All that tension and frustration had to be released in one form or another, so they were free and vigorous in their worship, thus acquiring the term which described them quite literally. They sang, danced, gyrated, shouted, and jumped. Let's just say a Shaker meeting was enthusiastic--they shook things up.
I mentioned their influence in America earlier. That came about because Mother Ann and a handful of followers immigrated in the early 1770s. The religion spread quite quickly, despite their obvious and sole reliance on converts (they certainly did not make more of their own), and at one point they occupied hundreds of small communes. These were charismatic people who believed in gender equality. They also adopted orphans and the homeless into their villages and lifestyle.
And their ways were unique. By this point, Mother Ann considered herself the actual Second Coming in feminine form, so she and her chosen Elders made all decisions. Men and women were literally separate but equal--equal rights and housing, education and food, but they lived separately to the point of sitting on opposite sides of auditoriums or meeting houses. Temptation was to be avoided at all costs. If a husband and wife joined the group together, a legal divorce would not be necessary, for they would be split asunder for all intents and purposes. Marriage was not considered a Christian union, as it, by nature, contradicted the teachings of celibacy.
Since these were communes rather than townships, no one owned anything, not even their children. Family houses were built dormitory style and housed men, women, boys, and girls. The male faction performed traditional, primarily outdoor, tasks, while women kept the quarters and clothing and did the cooking--surprising for such a wildly liberal group. In spite of such close living, there was still no sexual contact on pain of expulsion. When children reached 21, they were free to leave, and the majority did.
Any commune has to be self-sufficient, so the populace farmed, herded, milked, and weaved, but they were, for a time, large, so a bit more was needed. Their simplicity, for they reviled any ornate or decorous objects, was well known, and they developed a style of furnishing their homes that is still popular today. Any bookstore or furniture gallery will offer something relating to Shaker furniture, which they themselves originally sold as a means of support.
Their folk music was also inspirational. One piece in particular, the a cappella "Simple Gifts," inspired the great Aaron Copeland to write his masterful "Appalachian Spring." It can be purchased today and often appears on soundtracks.
For obvious reasons, the population of Shakers gradually and then more quickly, dissipated. Ann Lee died in 1784, only 48 years old. Elders followed her in death, children grew and drifted away, other religions sprang up to attract some members, and many began to see the Shaker way as extreme, preferring a more moderate lifestyle. Today, these original "hippies" are primarily known for their design contributions. Even those who own Shaker pieces have no understanding of the twitching and shouting in excitement that characterized the original designers.
But if you'd like to see for yourself, the Sabbathday Lake Village has existed for over 200 years. The members number only three and accept adult converts. The National Park is a successful working farm and houses a museum.
Check it out http://www.nps.gov/history/nr/travel/shaker/sab.htm
And remember that not all Shakers are, by definition, salty. Forgive the play on words.
VK
The group was originally founded in 1747 Britain by "Mother Ann" Lee, who, after suffering the loss of several children, claimed to have been blessed with divine revelations. Among these was the belief that Eden fell because of sexual practices, she had been called to create a new paradise in preparation for the return of Jesus, and her role was that of creator of the new Kingdom of Christ. Originally, her followers were primarily women, but eventually she attracted men as well as married couples.
But the major tenant here was that sex was not a good thing. As a matter of fact, it was the root of all evil, so to speak. As a result, the Shakers were celibate--even if married upon joining the movement. All that tension and frustration had to be released in one form or another, so they were free and vigorous in their worship, thus acquiring the term which described them quite literally. They sang, danced, gyrated, shouted, and jumped. Let's just say a Shaker meeting was enthusiastic--they shook things up.
I mentioned their influence in America earlier. That came about because Mother Ann and a handful of followers immigrated in the early 1770s. The religion spread quite quickly, despite their obvious and sole reliance on converts (they certainly did not make more of their own), and at one point they occupied hundreds of small communes. These were charismatic people who believed in gender equality. They also adopted orphans and the homeless into their villages and lifestyle.
And their ways were unique. By this point, Mother Ann considered herself the actual Second Coming in feminine form, so she and her chosen Elders made all decisions. Men and women were literally separate but equal--equal rights and housing, education and food, but they lived separately to the point of sitting on opposite sides of auditoriums or meeting houses. Temptation was to be avoided at all costs. If a husband and wife joined the group together, a legal divorce would not be necessary, for they would be split asunder for all intents and purposes. Marriage was not considered a Christian union, as it, by nature, contradicted the teachings of celibacy.
Since these were communes rather than townships, no one owned anything, not even their children. Family houses were built dormitory style and housed men, women, boys, and girls. The male faction performed traditional, primarily outdoor, tasks, while women kept the quarters and clothing and did the cooking--surprising for such a wildly liberal group. In spite of such close living, there was still no sexual contact on pain of expulsion. When children reached 21, they were free to leave, and the majority did.
Any commune has to be self-sufficient, so the populace farmed, herded, milked, and weaved, but they were, for a time, large, so a bit more was needed. Their simplicity, for they reviled any ornate or decorous objects, was well known, and they developed a style of furnishing their homes that is still popular today. Any bookstore or furniture gallery will offer something relating to Shaker furniture, which they themselves originally sold as a means of support.
Their folk music was also inspirational. One piece in particular, the a cappella "Simple Gifts," inspired the great Aaron Copeland to write his masterful "Appalachian Spring." It can be purchased today and often appears on soundtracks.
For obvious reasons, the population of Shakers gradually and then more quickly, dissipated. Ann Lee died in 1784, only 48 years old. Elders followed her in death, children grew and drifted away, other religions sprang up to attract some members, and many began to see the Shaker way as extreme, preferring a more moderate lifestyle. Today, these original "hippies" are primarily known for their design contributions. Even those who own Shaker pieces have no understanding of the twitching and shouting in excitement that characterized the original designers.
But if you'd like to see for yourself, the Sabbathday Lake Village has existed for over 200 years. The members number only three and accept adult converts. The National Park is a successful working farm and houses a museum.
Check it out http://www.nps.gov/history/nr/travel/shaker/sab.htm
And remember that not all Shakers are, by definition, salty. Forgive the play on words.
VK
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas
As the holiday time of year gears up, Christmas is, of course, on the minds of many. There are other celebrations with equally rich histories, but let's talk about the traditions of that season today.
Long before there was a "Christ Mass," the shorter days of the year were a fearful time for humans in general. The Winter Solstice, or Midwinter, is the shortest day, and therefore longest night, of the year, falling on December 21st or 22nd. For ancient peoples, such a lengthy disappearance of the sun was an unpleasant occurrence. Without light, there would be no spring and no food--a terrifying proposition. This may be one of the reasons Stonehenge, where the solstice is still observed, and other neolithic monuments exist and are constructed in very particular ways.
During this time, various rituals were practiced from Asia to Scandinavia. Even the ancient Romans celebrated Saturnalia as a time when the deities gathered on Mount Olympus to honor the sun god. These "pagans" decorated the streets and their homes, and even shared gifts. They gambled, drank, partied, and even staged the omnipresent games. And, in a more peculiar tradition, they exchanged roles with their slaves. The festival lasted for days.
With the spread of Christianity and the agreement that there was a need to focus more on the church and less on solstice practices, a date was chosen to celebrate the birth of Jesus. Using Midwinter itself was too obvious, so December 25th was decided upon. The term "Christmas" in one form or another began to enter use around the beginning of the second millennium.
And so it continues today, as do many of the old pagan traditions. The gifts from Roman celebrations are an obvious carryover. But what of trees and holly and yule logs and mistletoe and so forth? Well, the Druids used holly branches to guard their homes from evil spirits during the short, dark days. Now it is seen as an ornamental decoration. In some cultures, revellers wear laurels of holly to symbolize Christ's thorny crown.
The Druids also believed that mistletoe (Anglo-Saxon for "dung twig") harvested at specific times after the solstice would protect them from storms and evil spirits that roamed the earth. As for the traditional kiss, Vikings associated the parasitic twigs with fertility and saw the ritual affection as an aphrodisiac, sure to produce children. Many cultures considered the plant representative of peace, or at least armistice. So this has remained part of the holiday as well.
Among the Norse, Midwinter was actually referred to as Yuletide, during which they burned the largest log they could find, feasting as long as the wood flame lasted.
The Christmas tree can be traced, as a tradition, to 8th century Germany. It was not popular outside that country until Prince Albert introduced it to Victorian England in the 1840s, and the practice of decorating an indoor evergreen became widely imitated. This seems to have been brought to American even earlier via the Pennsylvania Dutch. Its origins are debatable, but some speculate that it might go back so far as the belief in the Tree of Life or at least the Druid tradition of forest worship. And evergreen was used by most peoples at solstice time to ward off bad luck or encourage the attraction of good spirits.
Santa Claus himself is based on many legends. The original Saint Nicholas was a bishop in Turkey during the 4th century, renowned primarily for his extraordinary gifts to, and work with, the poor. In certain countries, he is still depicted in the red robes of the cleric. But somewhere along the line, he became intermingled with the Norse god Odin, who flew across the sky on a giant horse. If children left food for the animal in their shoes, they were rewarded with gifts. Many people still hang stockings and leave cookies for Santa. An eight-legged horse for the Norse god or eight tiny reindeer for Santa--is there such a great difference?
The jolly Santa of contemporary America was created by cartoonist Thomas Nast in the 19th century. This image gained popularity quickly, as it was more secular. This elfin, yet grandfatherly, character was soon everywhere--on cards and posters, advertisements and stamps.
So sometimes it is more than a hop and a skip, it can be a whole jump, to explain just what Christmas and its traditions are anyway. The most important thing to remember is that this is a time of giving and kindness.
So be kind and giving, not just on one day of the year, but on each one.
VK
Long before there was a "Christ Mass," the shorter days of the year were a fearful time for humans in general. The Winter Solstice, or Midwinter, is the shortest day, and therefore longest night, of the year, falling on December 21st or 22nd. For ancient peoples, such a lengthy disappearance of the sun was an unpleasant occurrence. Without light, there would be no spring and no food--a terrifying proposition. This may be one of the reasons Stonehenge, where the solstice is still observed, and other neolithic monuments exist and are constructed in very particular ways.
During this time, various rituals were practiced from Asia to Scandinavia. Even the ancient Romans celebrated Saturnalia as a time when the deities gathered on Mount Olympus to honor the sun god. These "pagans" decorated the streets and their homes, and even shared gifts. They gambled, drank, partied, and even staged the omnipresent games. And, in a more peculiar tradition, they exchanged roles with their slaves. The festival lasted for days.
With the spread of Christianity and the agreement that there was a need to focus more on the church and less on solstice practices, a date was chosen to celebrate the birth of Jesus. Using Midwinter itself was too obvious, so December 25th was decided upon. The term "Christmas" in one form or another began to enter use around the beginning of the second millennium.
And so it continues today, as do many of the old pagan traditions. The gifts from Roman celebrations are an obvious carryover. But what of trees and holly and yule logs and mistletoe and so forth? Well, the Druids used holly branches to guard their homes from evil spirits during the short, dark days. Now it is seen as an ornamental decoration. In some cultures, revellers wear laurels of holly to symbolize Christ's thorny crown.
The Druids also believed that mistletoe (Anglo-Saxon for "dung twig") harvested at specific times after the solstice would protect them from storms and evil spirits that roamed the earth. As for the traditional kiss, Vikings associated the parasitic twigs with fertility and saw the ritual affection as an aphrodisiac, sure to produce children. Many cultures considered the plant representative of peace, or at least armistice. So this has remained part of the holiday as well.
Among the Norse, Midwinter was actually referred to as Yuletide, during which they burned the largest log they could find, feasting as long as the wood flame lasted.
The Christmas tree can be traced, as a tradition, to 8th century Germany. It was not popular outside that country until Prince Albert introduced it to Victorian England in the 1840s, and the practice of decorating an indoor evergreen became widely imitated. This seems to have been brought to American even earlier via the Pennsylvania Dutch. Its origins are debatable, but some speculate that it might go back so far as the belief in the Tree of Life or at least the Druid tradition of forest worship. And evergreen was used by most peoples at solstice time to ward off bad luck or encourage the attraction of good spirits.
Santa Claus himself is based on many legends. The original Saint Nicholas was a bishop in Turkey during the 4th century, renowned primarily for his extraordinary gifts to, and work with, the poor. In certain countries, he is still depicted in the red robes of the cleric. But somewhere along the line, he became intermingled with the Norse god Odin, who flew across the sky on a giant horse. If children left food for the animal in their shoes, they were rewarded with gifts. Many people still hang stockings and leave cookies for Santa. An eight-legged horse for the Norse god or eight tiny reindeer for Santa--is there such a great difference?
The jolly Santa of contemporary America was created by cartoonist Thomas Nast in the 19th century. This image gained popularity quickly, as it was more secular. This elfin, yet grandfatherly, character was soon everywhere--on cards and posters, advertisements and stamps.
So sometimes it is more than a hop and a skip, it can be a whole jump, to explain just what Christmas and its traditions are anyway. The most important thing to remember is that this is a time of giving and kindness.
So be kind and giving, not just on one day of the year, but on each one.
VK
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