The use of literary names after the advent of Printing

This is some of the lost work I've been re-creating.  Originally it was a page or so inserted after English medieval names in the main body of the text, but I've done it out nicely and it's now ready to be one of the essays in the appendices of the great name book.  

The use of literary names after the advent of Printing, [and lists of names to be found in Medieval literature]

The publishing of ‘Le Morte d’Arthur’ by Malory in 1485 has to have had some influence upon the choices of names within the literate community.  It was the first work of prose to be printed in the English language, despite its French title.

It is impossible to discuss the use of literary names without some discussion on literacy in late medieval Britain.

The literate community in Britain was large, compared to that in many places, largely owing to the influences of Lollardy, which had moved from being an upper class conceit as a counter to the power of the church in the mid fourteenth century, to being a religion more of the incipient middle classes in the fifteenth century.  Literacy, with the intent of being able to read English language Bibles, was a strong tenet of Lollardy.  It should be noted that printing presses sprang up in such places as Bungay, which was also a hotbed of Lollardy, including such figures as William of Bungay who was burned in Norwich in 1512.

Literacy too was popular with the mercantile classes even if they were not inclined to Lollardy, since being able to read their own contracts meant that they could both avoid being stiffed, and save money on a clerk. It was a period of increasing numbers of Grammar Schools, including those with places for clever poor boys, like the Ipswich School founded by Felawe, which was attended by Thomas Wolsey.

The names from the tales of Arthur were known before printing, of course, by many, and the incidence of the Cornish name Guinevere or Jenefer in the fourteenth century cannot be entirely explained by Cornish girls bearing the name.  However, it is in the fifteenth century that we see male names like Ninian, Gawain and Percival appearing in sufficient numbers to be noted.  The more common version of Ninian, Vivian, had been around for a great deal longer, but it is certainly worthy of speculation that the literary form may have been an influence.   With the spread of printing, too, other sources became available, in addition to various Arthurian legends, which I will address in detail.  Other literary sources include the ‘Song of Roland’ and its related early sixteenth century works, ‘Orlando Furioso’ and ‘Amadis the Gaul’; as well as other works like ‘Roman de la Rose’, ‘Valentin et Orson’, Chaucer’s various tales, a selection of fairy tales, and of course the various gestes, or tales, of Robin Hood. 

Robin Hood probably remained one of the most popular sets of tales, crossing all social and class boundaries.  However, it is impossible to say how much influence it may have had on naming traditions, as the names within it are ordinary English names, which may be seen to be popular throughout the period, and were probably popular in any case.  Names for men such as Robert, Richard, John and William were always in the top ten,  equally Marion as a variant of Mary for women, and certainly Bettrys [Beatrice] was frequently used, if less common, even as George was less frequently used [George the Pinner of Wakefield and his bride, Bettrys].  Robin Hood was, like Chaucer’s tales, written in English and hence more accessible than the majority of French language romances, which carried the snob value of Norman French, out of the reach of many readers, though even as early versions of fairy tales appear to have been common currency, so were the Arthurian tales, at least in basic versions.

I will undertake first to list names from Malory, and then from other Arthurian legend bases.   One of these, ‘Sir Gawaine and the Green Knight’, is said by some sources to contain allegorical reference to John of Gaunt, an early champion of Lollardy.

Arthurian cycles

Morte d’Arthur

These are the most prominent characters appearing in the 8 books

Male			Female
Agravaine	Ector	Mark	Elaine
Arthur	Gaheris	Mellyagaunce	Gwynevere
Balan	Gareth	Merlin	Iseult [Isolde]
Balyn	Gawaine	Mordred	Lynette
Bedivere	Galahad	Ninian	Lyonesse
Blamore	Gorlois	Palamedes	Morgan
Bleoberys	Launcelot	Peregrine	Margawse
Bors	Leodegrance	Tristrams	Ygraine
Cei [Kay]	Lot	Urry
Dinadan	Lucan	Uther

Brothers: Balan & Balyn; Gawaine, Gareth & Gaheris. 

Chretien de Troyes [5 narrative tales c 1160-1190]

Male				Female
Alexander	Dodinel	Grain	Morhut	Blanchfleur
Alis	Erec	Gru	Nut	Enide
Amauguin	Escalados	Kay	Perceval	Fenice
Aras	Eslit	Labigodes	Sagremor	Guinevere
Arthur	Evroic	Lac	Taulas	Laudine
Bademagu	Gaheriet	Lancelot/Lanceloz	Tenebroc	Lunete
Bedoiir [Bedivere]	Galegantin	Loholt	Tor	Orcades [Morgawse]
Bertrand	Gales	Lot	Tristan	Soredamors
Bliobleheris	Garravain	Meleagant	Uriien	Ygraine
Bran	Gawain	Meliadoc	Yder
Calogrenant	Girflet	Meliant	Yvain
Carabes	Gornemant	Meliz
Cligès	Gornevain	Mordred

Other Arthurian cycles, often involving marriage to a fey [fairy]

There are many tales in which a knight of the Round Table meets a fairy woman and marries here but is under geas not to speak about his wife, which of course he breaks, bringing sorrow.  She usually repents and rescues him.  Another theme is that of the ‘loathly lady’ stories, a version of which Chaucer includes in the ‘Tale of the Wife of Bath,’ where a knight is challenged to find what women want, and is constrained to marry an ugly hag to do so.  On their wedding night she becomes a beautiful woman and tells him she may be lovely by day when others see her, or by night when he takes her to bed.  The proper knight leaves the choice to her, freeing her from haghood at any time.  Other themes involve resisting seduction by a hostess and the obligatory beheading games. 

Authors include Thomas Chestre, Marie de France, John Gower’s ‘Confessio Amantis’ [included for the loathly lady story of Sir Florent] and anonymous writers of works like ‘The Awntyres [adventures] off Arthure’, Geoffrey of Monmouth’s ‘Historia Regum Britannia’, and ‘Sir Gawaine and the Green Knight’. I do not include the main protagonists save where they have name variations or a leading role like Gawain[e].  I have not included the Mabinogian, although it influenced some writers as the names are distinctly Welsh and unlikely to be borrowed in England when Anglicised names were more familiar.

Male		Female
Bertilac	Launfal /Landeval/ Lanval	Anna/Morgawse aka Orcades, Seife
Branchus	Loholt	Clarissant
Florent	Mardoc	Gaynour/ Guinevere
Galeron	Melwas	Olwen
Gawaine	Olyroun	Ragnelle
Gingalain	Percival	Soredamor
Gorlois	Thopas	Tryamour
Gromer	Valentine	Thametis/Thameta/Thenilis
Hoel		Winlogee/Guinevere

Thametis is said to be the sister of Gawaine and the daughter of King Lot, and is probably synonymous with legendary Scottish saint Teneu.  In some texts Loholt is the illegitimate son of Arthur, but in ‘Perlesvaus’ he is the legitimate son of Arthur and  Guinevere.  ‘Perlesvaus’ is a 13^th century continuation of Chretien de Troyes’ ‘Percival’. There were a number of continuations, so presumably the world’s first fanfiction…

Perceforest

An anonymous six volume romance in French, loosely related to the Arthurian cycle, a fanciful history of England and one of the earliest tellings of the Sleeping Beauty legend, Troylus et Zellandine. Written between 1330 and 1344, printed 1528.  I have left out such historical figures as Alexander the Great who were included, and the usual suspects from the Arthurian cycles.

Male		Female
Bethides	Gaddifer	Circe	Themis
Betis	Perceforest	Lucina	Venus
Darmant	Troylus	Sebille	Zellandine
Darnadon

The Melusine cycle

It is still a French proverb that one may weep like Melusine.  This is a two generation cycle of husbands disobeying conditions laid on them by their wives  about not seeing them at certain times.   This also has connections to the Arthurian cycle as knights descended from those of the Round Table appear as heroes. The best known literary version is by Jean d’Arras composed 1382-1394

Male		Female
Elynas	Nathas	Melior	Palatyne
Geoffrey	Raymond	Melusine	Pressyne

Song of Roland

The Song of Roland purported to be a history of the first Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire, Charlemagne, or Charles the Great.  Tales of derring-do and the theme of friendship between Oliver and Roland.  Dodgy for Merovingian names but certainly a source for late medieval ones.  Some characters appear to be shared with the Arthurian cycles, probably reflecting a similar folk source.

Male	Male	Female
Alard	Guy	Angelina
Allery	Hoel	Berenice
Amadis	Lambert	Bertha
Astolfo	Malagigi	Blanchefleur
Aymon	Nayme/Nami	Bradamant
Baldwin	Ogier	Dianora
Basin	Oliver	Dorigen
Berengar	Otuël	Elizana
Doon	Peridan	Oriana
Ferumbias/Fierabras	Renaud/Rinaldo
Florismart	Richand
Ganelan	Richard
Geoffrey	Riol
Guerin	Roland/Orlando
Guichard	Samson
Guillaume	Thiery

Chaucer

Chaucer’s characters are a mix of names that were extant in his time, and those from tales he borrows wholesale from the classics.  Other tales he tells are often borrowed wholesale from Boccaccio and Gower like Patient Griselda or Grishilde. I have not included the names of Greek gods, nor have I included names from Bible stories like Judith and Holofernes which are too well known to require listing

Names in common currency

Male		Female
Absolon[Absolom]	Oliver	Alice	Jill
Alan	Oswald	Alisoun	Mabely
Gervase	Peter/Piers/Perkin	Blanche	Malkin
Guy	Ralf	Cecily	Maudelayne
Harry	Robin/Robert	Constance	Molly
Hubert	Roger/Hodge	Crysede	Prudence
Hugh	Simon/Simkin	Eglantyne	Rosemund
Jack/John/Jankyn	Solomon	Emelye[Emily]	Sophia
Maurice	Thomas	Grishilde	Theodora
Nicholas	Walter	Helen

Classical/pseudo-classical & Persian names in Chaucer

Male		Female
Achilles	Hector	Alcestis	Livia
Achelous	Hercules	Alcyone	Lucilla
Aella	Jason	Anelida	Lucrece
Aeneas	Julius	Ariadne	Medea
Apollonius	Leander	Briseis	Myrrha
Appius	Lucan	Canace	Pasiphaë
Arcite	Lycurgus	Clytemnestra	Penelope
Arrius	Odenatus	Creusa	Philomela
Cambyses	Palamon	Crysede	Phyllis
Capaneus	Pandarus	Deianira	Progne
Ceryx	Pirathous	Dido	Thisbe
Claudius	Pyramus	Eriphyle	Virginia
Creon	Theseus	Helen	Zenobia
Cyrus	Tiburce	Hero
Deiphobus	Troylus	Hermione
Demophon	Valerian	Hypermnestra
Diomed[es]	Virginius	Hyppolyta
Emetreus		Hipspyle

Other mythic names in Chaucer [including those from Arthurian cycles]

Male			Female
Algarsyf	Elephaunt	Percival	Canacee
Aurelius	Ganelan	Pleyndamour	Donegild
Averagus	Guy	Thopas	Dorigen
Bevis	Hermanno	Thymaldo	Elpheta
Cambal	Libeaus	Ugolino	Hermengild
Cambuscan	Melibee	Ypotis	Theodora

Interestingly, some scholars postulate that the tale of the Wife of Bath shows that she has an interest in Lollardy, if not actually being a Lollard, since remarriage of widows was a tenet of the beliefs, and her extremely free thinking suggests Lollard influences.  Where Chaucer stood on this is, of course, a moot point.  He did write a disclaimer to the effect that opinions of his characters did not necessarily reflect his own.  However, as an author myself, I cannot think that he was not pleased that Lollard literacy meant more sales of his books.  Religion is religion but business is business!

Here’s one more table of literary names available by the 16^th century, mostly from French romances and ballads:

Male	Female
Abelard	Argentine	Electra
Amylion	Beatrix	Erembors
Amys	Belisant	Heloise
Aucassin	Bessee	Idoine
Flore	Blanche	Margeurite
Orson	Blancheflore	Nicolette
Pippin	Calafia	Yolande
Valentin	Douette

references: Chaucer, selected works; Sir Gawaine and the Green Knight; A lytel Geste of Robin Hood; Wiki on Malory, Chretien de Troyes etc [because I need to go to the library to look at the damn books but Wiki is a shortcut and I can check properly later, and there's only so much Middle English I can take before I get a headache]; the Oxford Treasury of French Literature. 

The Elements of Romance [and an appeal]

The appeal first, as I have lost all my recent work when the cats totalled my flashdrive; I know I let someone have a copy of my weather data beyond what's posted here.  If it was you, please contact me!
This article below was first blogged on Kat Kane's Romance blog, last year.

The Elements of Romance

The elements of a romance are, not necessarily in order of importance:

1. A heroine
2. A hero
3. A villain
4. Tension
5. A plot
6. Attraction

It may sound obvious, but the first things a romance needs are a hero, and a heroine.

It’s not as obvious as it sounds.

1. The Heroine has to be attractive, and, since most readers [though not all] tend to be women, someone with whom the reader can identify.  This means that she needs to be at least one and preferably two or three from a combination of:

 Beautiful; clever; spirited; full of common sense; rich; socially well-connected; compassionate; or popular.

It is important that she should not be all of these, or even too many, because that heads towards the realms of the dreaded ‘Mary Sue’ whom everyone wants to slap upside of the head.  This removes, for the reader, the designation of ‘popular’.  A heroine must have a flaw, and preferably one which will get her into trouble [see point 4, tension] such as being terribly innocent in the ways of the wicked world and easily manipulated by the villain [see point 3].  Compassion can be a flaw as well as a virtue, if her compassion leads her to rescue mongrels, climbing boys or Covent Garden whores, and involving any gentleman with whom she is associated willy-nilly into such endeavours.   

The heroine must, however, be someone the reader can love.

It is entirely possible to have a heroine who is not beautiful, nor especially spirited; Heyer manages it brilliantly with Drusilla in ‘The Quiet Gentleman’, a plot which may appeal more to the older reader than to the younger, but then, the heroine of any romance will always appeal more to some than others.  A good writer will manage to present a selection of heroines whose appeal varies.  So long as they are matched by their respective heroes, the story should be enjoyable even if each person has their favourites.  And these may change; as a teenager, I enjoyed Heyer’s ‘These Old Shades’ with the effervescent Leonie and her demonic Duke of Avon; being officially middle aged now, I can take it or leave it, and prefer Miss Heyer’s more thought-provoking stories like ‘A Civil Contract’ which, in my youth, I disliked intensely. 

2. The Hero should be swoonworthy.  This can be difficult as the tastes of all women do differ; I, for example, consider Jane Eyre’s Mr Rochester more in need of kicking than kissing because he’s a liar. However, the general consensus appears to be that a hero is best if tall, dark and handsome, ‘in possession of a good fortune’, not easy to get to know, witty, humorous and a leader of fashion.

This tends to fill me with feelings of perversity when writing since I rather object to the idea of filling the world with Mr Darcy clones.  There are enough out there.

Some people feel that a hero must be a rake; a true rake is not actually a very admirable or satisfactory person, but a hero might have got the reputation either unfairly or when, released onto the town with too much money, he sowed his wild oats rather too freely.  As convention tends to dictate a virginal heroine, it is wise for the hero to be at least experienced.  A girl wants to feel that she is kissed masterfully and successfully, not be engaged in a clumsy bout of nose hockey.

The main point of a hero is to be heroic; to be someone who is there for the heroine when she needs him.  Whether this is knocking down the villain as he attempts an abduction, or merely being able to obtain a hackney carriage in the rain, he should impress by his ability.  This can be quiet competence; or a flamboyant approach.  The hero may be a sportsman, even a Corinthian, or he may be a scholar.  It is much, much harder to make a hero of a dandy, though so long as he does not love his appearance more than he is capable of loving others, not impossible.  It is my contention that the most successful hero has some combination of the main qualities of sportsman, scholar, dandy or man-about-town.  A Corinthian namely mostly for his ability to drive to an inch who is also knowledgeable about the running of his lands, and has picked up some eclectic nursing knowledge when serving on the Peninsula, like my own Gervase, in ‘Cousin Prudence’ for example.

As the heroine has virtues, so too does the hero:

Good with the ladies; sportsman; clever; humorous; stylish; handsome; rich; well-connected.   Pick three and stir thoroughly. 

3. The Villain should be truly villainous, though some saving grace in him is permitted.  It also leaves openings for him to reform and be the hero of a sequel.* He may be a rival for the hand of the heroine, or a wicked uncle, or he might even be a female, the hero’s ex-mistress, a cruel mother/stepmother, a designing hussy or any person who opposes the romance between the Hero and the Heroine for whatever reason.  The Villain can even be dead, and it is his will which is the bone of contention, preventing the Heroine from marrying where she wishes, for example, by only leaving her his money if she is betrothed to a certain person. Who might, or might not, turn out to be the Hero. The Villain can be a plot device to show the Hero as heroic in opposing him, or not succumbing to her wiles; or as a red herring to lead the Heroine astray and cause trouble between her and the Hero.

4. Tension is needed to play on the feelings of the Hero and Heroine.  There are many plot devices to introduce tension, of which the Villain is one.  They tend to include a secret which is not told, causing suspicion; doubt regarding identity or the truth surrounding one of the protagonist’s backgrounds; jealousy arising from an overheard or glimpsed encounter which appears to be more than it truly is; lies sown by a third party to cause trouble; lies sown by a third party with the best of possible intentions; the well-meaning intervention without understanding of a third party;  and misunderstandings where both Hero and Heroine are talking at crossed-purposes.  Tension may also arise from the embarrassing behaviour of friends or relatives, including having to bail them out of debt, and keep it secret; the open or concealed hostility of one or more associates; and of course the sexual tension between the characters that may even manifest initially as hostility.  

5. A Plot is necessary. Boy being meets Girl being, they suffer tribulations and kiss under the silvery moon is not enough. [with apologies to Douglas Adams.]

It has been said that there are only seven original plots, but it’s the twists on them that make the differences.  Your star-crossed lovers might not be named Montague and Capulet, but they might love across class or, if you feel brave enough to tackle it across religion or colour.  It happened!  Plagiarism is a dirty word, but revamping a plot with a new twist is what is generally called research, and Shakespeare is dead and can’t sue.  However, there are plenty of ideas to be found in the very act of research for temporal authenticity; I can’t recall offhand how many plot bunnies Kat Kane has sparked for me, with her excellent blog ‘The Regency Redingote’, qv.  However, the point is that there needs to be a reason for the main protagonists to meet; some point of interest which keeps them meeting; adversity within that to give them Tension; and a resolution of both plot, and love, with all ends tied up neatly, even if only by implication, and the Hero and Heroine smooch their way into the last page, roll credits, organ music, reader sighs with satisfied delight and realises her coffee has got cold because she was too interested in the denouement. 

And yes, some plots are a little weak and contrived, but so long as they exist AND the characters and dialogue are strong, you can get away with it.  Even Heyer had her off days; I find both ‘Charity Girl’ and ‘Sprig Muslin’ rather too much alike and somewhat trite, especially compared to some of her stronger works.  However any Heyer is worth reading for her wonderful secondary characters and her witty dialogue.

6. Attraction  has to exist between the Hero and the Heroine.  This might easily be displaced into self-destructive behaviour out of perversity, or through a misunderstanding of feelings, but it has to exist.  The initial misunderstanding and the arguments, which both may find as exciting as they find it exasperating, can be a good way of building up their knowledge of each other and discovery of self as well as each other, and to demonstrate an initial physical but antagonistic attraction growing into something greater.

Equally, the characters may have no conflict between themselves, unless engineered by a third party, but still have to come to know each other, and move from being strangers to a gradually warmer friendship and beyond.  This can be harder to demonstrate, but when done well is very rewarding.  The example that springs immediately to mind is Jane Austen’s ‘Emma’ where Emma’s mental transition to adulthood through the book brings with it her awareness that Mr Knightley is a man she cares for as more than an old family friend.  Here, the protagonists are already known to each other, but the Heroine still has much to learn about the Hero – and herself.

If your characters are engaging in insipid dialogue and do not create sparks from each other, you might as well go back and rewrite each with a different lover.  They are not going to get it on with each other.  Now I like my romance without any hard biology, though I don’t object to well-written, well-placed erotic passages where the plot is strong enough to merit it, but even in a gentle romance, you should be able to sense the sexual tension seething under the surface.  Which is to say, the reader with the imagination that wishes to go that far, should be able to picture the Hero and Heroine going to bed together, rather than finding their greatest thrill in writing elegiac poetry together. 

It is also about more than the sex; because they should be sufficiently perfectly suited to be envisioned, in a quarter of a century, playing with their grandchildren, or taking tea and toast together in their wrap and banyan with their hair still tousled from the night.  That’s the difference between romance and bodice-rippers.  The sex early on is implied but the attraction of personalities lasts a lifetime.

I’ve been married 31 years and my husband and I are still in love, so I claim that as a qualification to lecture.

NOTE: I originally used the word 'feisty' instead of 'spirited' for a heroine, because I knew everyone would know what it meant.  However, it should be remembered that it should never be used in a Regency novel itself, since at the time it was cant and referred to the tendency of small dogs to break wind.  We don't really want a flatulent heroine.  Moreover I have seen too many stories where the heroine is described as 'feisty' in which it appears to be a synonym for rude and overbearing.  I suppose that's apt; a sort of verbal flatulence. 

* I've used this plot bunny for the second book in the Brandon Scandals series, which will be called 'The Reprobate's Redemption' featuring Evelyn, Marquis Finchbury, from 'The Hasty Proposal'.  Coming soon.

Short story of Austen's time

I've posted a short I used when writing with dice, but this one occurred to me and I felt the need to get it onto paper.  In a way my characters here are more Austenesque than those inspired by Heyer, being at the lower socio-economic end of the nominal gentry.  And very nominal they are... Mr Theophilus Inchpenny is based on my grandfather, and he's dead and can't sue.  This is only the first draft, and I may rewrite it entirely but I thought in the meantime I'd share. 

Across the Street

Miss Emily Inchpenny sighed in exasperation as her stocking snagged on the rough wood of the cheap, deal stool on which she perched.  Already they were more darn than stocking, but Uncle Theophilus would make such a fuss if she asked for some money for some more.

She sighed, and bent to her work again, writing steadily in a neat, round hand.  And then, covertly, she peeked out of the window, to see if she could see Him in the building across the street.

The building across the street belonged to Loveday Shipping, and it was plainly a prosperous building.  Why, only recently Mr. Loveday had installed the new gas lighting!  And even before that, they had burned enough candles to light the ball of a debutante of one of the upper ten thousand!  Not, mused Emily, that she had any real idea what that might be like, but it sounded good, and the office had always blazed with light, not like the thin, inadequate light cast by the evil-smelling tallow dips here.

He was there.

He was a handsome young man, seeming well built, and dressed most dashingly, with coats so tight that he must have a valet to help him on and off with them.  One could see him so easily in the bright light across the way.  He surely could not be a mere shipping clerk! 

However, even the shipping clerks from Loveday Shipping dressed better than anyone she had ever seen here, where her uncle’s chief clerk resided in a shabby frock coat of times gone by, with the resigned inevitability of a plant grown so long in a pot that it has taken on the shape of the pot. 

Emily missed plants.  She was able to go to the park on Sundays, but the little breath of green was enough to almost make it worse.  She blinked hard on an unbidden tear and returned to her writing.

“Papa, have you any idea who that beautiful young lady is?  The one who sits writing in the window, with the most extraordinary clothes?” asked Lawrence Loveday.  He had finished the accounting for the day and had taken his figures to his father to be looked over.

“What, the girl in Pinchpenny and Eke, you mean?  Inchpenny and Peake, I should say,” said his father.

Lawrence laughed.

“A good name for them,” said he.  “Yes, she.  Or do I mean her?”

“I don’t know why I sent you to a good school if you don’t know one from t’other; and it’s no good asking me, all my education came from being a chandler’s boy until I was able to lay information about a plot to engage in barratry I overheard.”

“I know, Papa, up to no good, and creeping about the inn with intent to startle your master and his inamorata with fireworks.  You were a hell-born babe.”

“Yes, wasn’t I? but Lloyds were generous with their reward, and it saved the lives of the poor devils of sailors who would have been murdered when the cheating captain scuttled the ship after passing off the cargo to another, to gain both cargo and insurance money.   And I think you mean she.”

“More than likely,” said Lawrence.  “Which being so, do you know who she is, or not, Papa?”

“She is the niece of old Inchpenny,” said Mr. Loveday.  “As I understand it, her father was a parson, the elder son going in for law, and the younger for the church, and having been orphaned she lives with her uncle who has turned off his junior clerk to save money, since she writes a fair enough hand to work for him for nothing.”

“Nothing?”  Lawrence was shocked.

“Not a penny. And you wonder why she wears odd clothes.  I suspect she has had to resort to raiding the attic for any garment not in rags, regardless of its age. Either that or her parents were so unworldly that they failed to notice that the nineteenth century had dawned and passed its first decade,” he added dryly.

“And I thought myself hard done by on the wage you make me live on!” said his son.

Mr. Loveday frowned. 

“You manage to dress up well enough like a dandy,” he said.

“Give you my word, sir, if you saw a dandy, you’d eat your words,” said Lawrence.  “I purchase my own fabrics at the wharf and have a man make them up for me.  It costs a fraction of what a coat like this would set me back if I bought it from a fashionable tailor who bought his own fabric.”

Mr. Loveday managed a half-approving grunt.

“Literally cutting your coat to suit your pocket,” he said.  “You look well enough.  And you’ll not regret learning economies when I make you my partner on your birthday.”

“Uncle, it is unseemly that I should be seen in public with holes in my stockings and a gown almost in rags, almost showing that my underwear is indecent,” said Emily.

“Ingratitude!  Base ingratitude!  Have I not given you a home out of the goodness of my heart?” demanded Theophilus Inchpenny.

“No, you gave me a home because I threatened to write to the newspapers to draw the attention of your clients to my plight had you turned me out of doors penniless,” said Emily.

“Yes, and it is nothing short of blackmail!” cried Inchpenny.

“Which, having attempted it once successfully emboldens me to consider the same ploy,” said Emily. “In that I shall take myself to the park and beg on Sundays, explaining that I am not paid a wage for the hard work that I do, and thus must beg for my clothing.  The rags I am wearing, which also need washing as I have nothing to change into, will bear me out on that.”

“Good G-d!  how did you come by such a brazen idea?” Inchpenny was horrified.

“By having a child press a penny into my hand as I walked home yesterday, and saying ‘please, beggar-lady, buy something to eat,” said Emily.  “Bless the child, I could not refuse such a generous spirit.”

“And you did not give the penny to me?  You thieving wench!” cried Inchpenny.

“It was given to me, sir, not to you.  And I did buy myself something to eat, since I knew that by the time I had delivered all the letters you had sent me to deliver I should be late for dinner, and you would tell me, as you indeed did, that I must go hungry for being slow,” said Emily, with asperity.  “And how my poor father must turn over in his grave to have his daughter trudging the street looking like a beggar.”

“It prevents you from the unwelcome attentions of any who might take you for something else,” said Inchpenny, then beamed in satisfaction.  “It is for your own protection.”

“That is the most specious argument I have ever heard,” said Emily.  “And if I had a couple of decent, modest gowns, then I should not be mistaken for such an unfortunate woman in any case.  You have my ultimatum; fifteen shillings for a couple of new gowns and Saturday afternoon off to purchase them, or I shall spend Sunday telling the people of Hyde Park how I am treated.  I have a good voice.  Perhaps I shall write a song about it, and sing it to a popular tune.”

Theophilus Inchpenny went purple.

“I will lock you in your room!” he declared.

“Then I shall leave the office on Monday and do it then,” said Emily.  “You will not keep me incarcerated forever; you need me to do all the junior clerk’s work since you turned off poor Mr. Jukes.”

“Infamous!  You will beggar me!” cried Inchpenny.

“Unlikely.  I’ve seen your accounts, and you could afford to show off your only female relative in gowns that cost pounds, not shillings,” said Emily, bitterly.

Muttering, Inchpenny dug into his pockets.

“Fifteen shillings.  Not a penny more,” he declared.

“Even a tweenfloors maid has her clothing provided and five pounds a year,” said Emily.  “And had you paid me half what you paid Jukes, I should have been able to be a pretty advertisement to the firm.  But I thank you, though you have had more work out of me than one hundred times that amount.”

“Just get out of my sight, and get on with your copying!” shouted Mr. Inchpenny.

Emily got out of his sight adroitly, breathing very hard and trying not to be sick.  It was one thing to know that she needed to stand up to the miser, and quite another thing to do it.  She whispered a prayer of thanks for the strength given to her to do it.

And if she had a decent gown or two, depending on what she might find second hand, she might then covertly write for positions as a governess.

She sighed.  It would take her away from Him, if she managed to gain such a position, but then, He was only a dream; did not even know that she existed.

Lawrence watched Her slip out of her seat, and sighed.  Poor girl!  There had to be something one could do; her every movement showed that she was ladylike in all particulars, and yet so miserable.

“Papa, can’t we employ her as a clerk?” he asked.

His father raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“And where would the poor girl live?” he asked.  “We have a bachelor house, since your dear mother died.  And would she not think it odd to be offered a job that is never done by women?”

Lawrence sighed.  “I see her so bowed down and … and crushed,” he said.  “Pinchpenny will work her to death, and before that he will make her old before her time.”

“There is nothing you can do that a respectable girl would countenance for one minute,” said Mr. Loveday. 

Lawrence, who was only half listening to him, gasped as he saw Emily return.

“Why, Papa!  She has almost a spring to her step!  Do you think she has told him that he might go to Hades?”

“I doubt it,” said Mr. Loveday, dryly.  “But as I shall not get any sense out of you otherwise, you may leave work early and loiter to see if you might fall into conversation with her.”

Lawrence’s face fell.

“I doubt she even knows I exist and will think me some lewd fellow to thus approach her,” he said.

“You will not know if you do not ask,” said Mr. Loveday, who had noticed Miss Inchpenny’s glances no less languishing than his son’s.  It was a respectable match, and moreover if it survived the imaginations of two young people separated by a street that might as well have been an ocean, then it would cock a snoot at old Inchpenny.

Mr. Loveday had no hesitation in cocking a snoot at Theophilus Inchpenny whom he had loathed since his days as a chandler’s clerk, when the junior partner of Inchpenny and Peake, when Peake was still alive, had treated him with scorn.

“Miss Inchpenny!  May I have the pleasure of escorting you?”  Lawrence lifted his high-crowned beaver to her. That was the single most expensive item of his apparel; it was no good skimping and getting a cheap beaver made of rabbit fur.  They fell out of shape in the rain.

“You have the advantage of me, sir,” said Emily, blushing violently. Why never in her wildest dreams had she thought He might speak to her.

“Lawrence Loveday, at your service,” said Laurence, with a bow.  “We ought to be introduced by a third party, of course, but I can’t see your uncle doing that.”

“Not without charging for it, anyway,” said Emily. “Oh dear, that was not proper of me.”

“Oh, I’ve heard stories about your uncle from my father,” said Lawrence, cheerfully.  “He’s a man who’d skin a flea for its hide and tallow.”

Emily giggled.  She was already quite drunk with her success, and the laugh escaped.

“What a pretty giggle you have, not like some of the silly titters some girls give,” said Lawrence.  “Miss Inchpenny!  You will think me dreadfully rude, but there is something personal I wish to ask you!”

“Why I am such a dowd?” said Emily, wearily.

“Lud, no, the man couldn’t stretch the hide of a flea round you to give you a decent pelisse, and only one would bite him for he hid his blood in a vault,” said Lawrence.

Emily laughed right out at that.

“Mr. Loveday,  I wish I could say that was a calumny on my uncle!” she said.

“But you can’t.  So I know why you’re dressed like a … forgot what I was going to say.”

“Beggar?  I know.  A little boy gave me a penny yesterday, and it gave me an idea.”

“I say, Miss Inchpenny, I know some beggars make good money, but it ain’t a job for a nicely brought up young lady,” said Lawrence.  “All I was going to ask you was how it was you suddenly came back to your stool looking buoyant earlier.”

“You … you noticed me?” Emily’s eyes widened.

“I’ve been watching you for weeks and trying to pick up courage to talk to you,” said Lawrence.  “And I thought I might scare you.  But today you have an air of … of steel,” he said.

“Well, it does not redound to my credit,” said Emily, “but I must have more than one gown and preferably one or two that are not threadbare.”

“And other essentials too, I wager,” said Lawrence.  “I don’t know the details, never having had any sisters, but, well, men have more than top things.”

“And so do women,” said Emily, blushing again.  “I would not, I think, really beg, but I threatened my uncle that I would, and tell everyone why I was.  So I have a whole fifteen shillings!”

“Mean old skinflint!” said Lawrence.  “That won’t go far.”

“I was planning to purchase second hand garments,” said Emily.  “I’m not a ship owner’s offspring.”

“Oh, I’m on a salary until my birthday next month, when I’ll be a partner,” said Lawrence.  “I have second hand garments too, but only the ones you can’t see.  I know a tailor and I buy fabric off the wharf.”

“How very enterprising you are,” said Emily, admiringly.  “I had thought that a man so handsome could not possibly be clever as well! Oh dear, I am not accustomed to conversation with strangers, I did not mean to be rude,” and she covered her mouth with her hand.

“Oh, I don’t take offence at being told I’m clever and handsome,” said Lawrence, “Especially by a beautiful woman!”

“Oh, I pray you, do not mock me,” said Emily.

“I’m not.  The costume may not do anything for you, but your lovely titian hair and wonderful profile have brightened my days.  And I almost feel I know you, watching your conscientious work, your studied patience, your frustration and anger in your shoulders.  But you will think me a terrible Paul Pry to have watched you; and I hope you will forgive it.”

Emily blushed.

“Oh, Mr. Loveday, I have watched you, too, and seen how you work diligently, and how you have bent over another man’s work and shown him how to do something, and so patiently!” she said. 

“Well then!  We did not need an introduction for we already know each other!” said Lawrence.  “Oh Miss Inchpenny!  I hope it would not offend you, but would you like to leave your uncle’s employ?”

“It can scarcely be called employ, since he doesn’t pay me.  I hoped to find some other situation,” said Emily. 

“Well, Papa said we could not offer you a home, so it would not be right to ask if you would be the new clerk we need, since Mama died some years ago, but I have a plan!  I have my shirts made by a girl who takes in sewing, and her sister has just got married, and she wanted to share her apartment with another girl; would that suit you?”

“Mr. Loveday, you are going very fast,” said Emily.  “You overwhelm me!”

“Well, you don’t have to decide right away,” said Lawrence.

Emily came to a stop.

“Yes I do,” she said.  “And if you’ll take me to her right now, and she likes me, I will stay with her, if the offer of a job is genuine.  I am as good a clerk as any man, and I would like a job for pay.  And I may as well do the same job and get something for it, so long as it will cover my rent and my food.”

“Oh a junior clerk starts at forty pounds a year,” said Lawrence.

“Oh my,” said Emily, for whom that was untold riches.

“Share with a gentry-mort?  She’ll look down on me,” said Betty Hardcastle.

“I assure you, Miss Hardcastle, I’ll do nothing of the sort,” said Emily.  “I’m sure we can come to an amicable arrangement about living together.  And if you don’t like me, perhaps I can stay until I find somewhere else.”

“Well that won’t take long,” said Betty, casting a look at Lawrence.  “Well, dearie, if you don’t mind that I’m as common as muck, we’ll deal extremely well together.  I ain’t a trollop, so there won’t be no unwelcome callers, and there’s a poker by the door to discourage any that think otherwise.”

“I like the way you think,” said Emily.

Theophilus Inchpenny was furious that his niece did not come home; and then worried that something had happened to her, and that someone would manage to blame him when anything that happened to her would be her own stupid fault.

Emily had delivered the letters she was supposed to deliver, which was one thing at least, or rather he received enough replies to suppose she must have done.  She had probably spent that hard earned fifteen shillings on stupid clothes and got herself used and thrown in the river.

After the weekend, Inchpenny glanced out of the window and was almost apoplectic to see a well-known red head seated on a stool in Loveday Shipping’s office.   He hurled out of his own office to demand an explanation of her, and was brought up short by Lawrence himself.

“You have my niece in there!  Disporting herself in an unladylike fashion doing a man’s job!” he howled.

“Oh, funny that it wasn’t unladylike when you had her doing the same for you but without pay,” said Lawrence.  “She’s rather good; fluent in French and Italian, a great boon to the firm.  Papa had no hesitation in raising her wages to seventy pounds a year, with promise of a raise in three months.”

Inchpenny’s eyes started out of his head.

“He’s paying her seventy pounds a year?  A girl?”

“A linguist,” said Lawrence.

“I want to talk to her!” howled Inchpenny.  “She need to know what’s due to her own flesh and blood.”

“Funny, I didn’t think you understood what is due to flesh and blood,” said Lawrence.  “Ah, Miss Inchpenny.”

“I saw Uncle Theophilus, so I came out,” said Emily. 

“Ah!  Regretting it, I see, my girl!  I don’t know where you are living, but I wager you miss a real home!”

“I do miss a real home,” said Emily, and went on as he smirked, “But the last one I knew was with my parents.  You have a house in which you live, with poorly-cooked food from the cheapest of cuts, badly served.  I am able to afford a servant, who knows how to shop and cook.  As you might have, if only you paid proper wages and did not employ the cheapest slattern you could find.”

“Oh, I see! You have set up house living in sin – what would your poor father say?  Well let me tell you, when this fancy man of yours tires of you, he will discard you…..Hey!”

Inchpenny managed no more as Lawrence took him by the shoulders, rotated him, and frogmarched him out.

“Oh Lawrence, I mean, Mr. Loveday, you are quite splendid!” said Emily, when he returned.

“By Jupiter, Miss Inchpenny, I’d fight any dragon for you,” said Lawrence.

Emily blushed.

“Oh, Mr. Loveday!” she managed.

Theophilus Inchpenny was not invited to the wedding several months later.  Betty however was, and was delighted to know that she was to be the modiste to the wife of the ‘and son’ of what was now Loveday and Son, Shipping.

Weather zones in the UK

I've had a number of questions on my post about weather, and I thought it might be helpful to post a map of the climate zones of the UK.  I have used the plant hardiness zones, since I fondly hope that this will be the most easily understood way of explaining the approximate zoning.  I have also included the simplistic but reasonably accurate map we drew in our geography books more years ago than I care to recall, giving generalisations about the four sections into which the British Isles can be divided.
Hardiness zones, for those people who have not come across them, are used by gardeners/farmers to know what plants will survive over winter in each zone.  In short, don't plant Dahlias in the Highlands of Scotland and expect them to live, bring Begonias and Pelargoniums in everywhere except south of Truro, and plant Fuchsia Magellanica anywhere you like, because it survives down to about zone 4. 

First, the hardiness zones:

And next the regions:

The dryness of East Anglia is proverbial, as the rainfall is approximately the same as that found in North Africa.