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The Mysterious Dr. Barry

In her Memoir of her mother, Lady Rose Weigall, Rachel Weigall relates the following story about a guest they once entertained, Dr. Barrie (pictured right), as Rachel calls him. History records the name as Barry, but no matter the spelling, the story is fascinating. First some background – Rachel’s mother was born Rose Sophia Mary Fane and her father was William Wellesley Pole, older brother to the Duke of Wellington, whose military and later personal secretary was Lord Fitzroy Somerset. We’ll see the role Somerset plays in the following anecdote Rachel writes about her childhood: “One of our most curious guests was the celebrated army Surgeon `Dr. Barrie,’ who was then stationed at Corfu. Lord Fitzroy Somerset asked my father to show him some courtesy, and said he had done such excellent work for the troops. He came to dinner, an odd-looking little person, very small, with a squeaky voice and mincing manner, just like an old maid, as my mother remarked. She found his conversation most agreeable, but we younger members of the party suffered from suppressed laughter at his peculiarities. He was a vegetarian, and refused even eggs, `because they had life in them.’ We often laughed afterwards about “Dr. Barrie”; and it was not until his death many years later that he was discovered to be a woman, who had masqueraded as a man and as an army surgeon for years.” This fact was discovered by Sophia Bishop, who’d laid out the doctor’s body after his death.

Indeed, Dr. James Miranda Barry had graduated from the Medical School of Edinburgh in 1812 and went on to enjoy a successful career as an army surgeon, eventually becoming Inspector General of Hospitals. As Rachel writes above, it was only discovered after his death at a house in Cavendish Square that he was, in fact, a woman. Odder still when you consider that he’d once fought a duel over a woman, while on the other hand, rumor had it that he’d had a homosexual affair with Lord Charles Somerset, Governor of Cape Town, where Barry spent many years in his company. Charles Somerset was the son of the 5th Duke of Beaufort and brother to Lord Fitzroy Somerset. Sophia Bishop, the maid who’d laid out the body, also claimed to have found stretch marks on the body indicative of the fact that the doctor had at least once been pregnant.

For more information on this story, try Dr James Barry: The Early Years Revealed published in the South African Medical Journal in January of 2008 by Hercules Michael du Preez and
The Secret Life of Dr James Barry: Victorian England’s Most Eminent Surgeon by Rachel Holmes

An Anglophile in Paris

As you all know by now, I’ve had my London/Waterloo trip planned for some time, but it wasn’t until last year that my daughter, Brooke, said that she’d like to come along. We’ve been to England together quite a few times and she’s a fabulous travel companion, so I was thrilled. And then I thought that, since we’d be in Brussels anyway, how could I not take Brooke to Paris? I mean it would be right there. Paris. So I tacked on five days to the end of the trip. And then I started thinking that five days would be too many. I mean, what is there for an Anglophile to do in Paris? I started to think that I’d made a mistake. And then I went to the library and got some guide books to Paris and began to think that five days might not be enough. At any rate, I am now not only reconciled to, but also looking forward to Paris because it dawned on me that it would be the first trip in a long time for which I would have no agenda. I wouldn’t be traveling on business, nor would I be manic about all the research I had to fit into just a few days. I could go to Paris and be nothing but a tourist.

In essence, this will be my first trip to Paris. Granted, I’d won a trip entitled “April in Paris” about thirty years ago. However, I was pregnant at the time and my ex-husband and I had just bought a new home and needed carpeting more than a trip to Paris, so we cashed it in and stayed home. Fast forward to five years ago and I was in Paris, sort of, on a press trip. As part of a group of five travel writers, I was flown first class on Air France to Paris en route to Zurich, Lucerne and Interlaken. The drawback was that Air France were under the impression that they were going to be huge part of all of our stories. Therefore, upon landing in Paris, we were held hostage in the Air France “war room,” a huge conference room with a huge window over looking the runways, in which we sat for about three hours whilst people with very heavy French accents regaled us with stories of the Air France anti-terrorist game plan, security measures, latest technologies, etc. etc. etc. Finally, we were taken to the Hilton Hotel a block away from the Champs Elysee – and told that we needed to be ready for a gastronomic treat of a dinner in three hours time. I’d instantly bonded with a fellow journalist I’d only just met, Cynthia, and she and I decided to use the time to see something of Paris. We strolled the Champs Elysee, I had my photo taken in front of Napoleon’s folly, the Arc d’Triomphe, and we had a glass of wine at a sidewalk café. The waiter didn’t speak English, neither of us spoke French, but after some back and forth, we discovered that he and I both spoke Spanish. So there we sat, two American journalists, at a sidewalk café in France, ordering in Spanish. Go figure.

The next morning, I was seated on the wrong side of the plane and so never even glimpsed the Tour Eiffel as we flew out to Switzerland. In fact, I voiced the opinion that there was, in fact, no Tour Eiffel and that it’s existence was a plot by the French government to lure travelers to the City. So, this time, I am determined to see the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame and to stroll the City at my leisure. I have made no definite plans for our five days in Paris other than to have booked a champagne cruise on the River Seine, the boat to be boarded at the quay hard by that elusive edifice, the Eiffel Tower. If I find that there really is an Eiffel Tower I will gladly apologize to the proper French authorities. Well, perhaps not, but I will take a photo and post it here upon my return.

The London and Waterloo Tour – Brussels, Beyond Sprouts

Brussels today is the capital of the European Union, a fitting role for the city which has been an important trading center and part of many empires — Burgundian, Austrian and French, to name only three in the last fifteen centuries.

Capturing Brussels was the immediate objective of Napoleon Bopnaparte as he marched his army north out of France in June of 1815 after his escape from his first exile in Elba. He knew the British and Prussian armies were there or heading in that direction. It was in Brussels that he hoped to re-establish his empire by annexing part of the United Netherlands, as the areas of Holland and Belgium were known at the time.

Napoleon also knew that there was some sympathy for him in an area he had once possessed. Some local armies included men who had fought for Napoleon a few years before.

Stories about Napoleon’s disdain for the abilities of the Duke of Wellington, commander of the Allied forces, may also be true. Bonaparte is reported to have said, “…Wellington is a bad general…this is going to be a picnic.” How wrong he was.

In the year since the Allies first defeated Bonaparte in 1814 and restored the Bourbon monarchy in Paris, Brussels had become a popular residence for many Englishmen. Some aristocratic families were trying to cut costs and live less expensively. For example, the Duke of Richmond had moved his family and many servants to a large house in Brussels where they could entertain and still watch their finances. The Capel family was another who escaped creditors yet were able to live quite comfortably in Brussels. Some of the British were simply tourists flocking to the continent after the Napoleonic Wars had made travel difficult for many years. Particularly in the weeks leading up to the battles in June, Brussels was the scene of a lively social life, balls, soirees, breakfasts, promenades, as though no one had a care in the world.

Waterloo, the village for which the decisive battle is named, is just ten miles south of the center of the city. The battlefield is preserved, though the land is partially farmed just as it was 195 years ago.

The main part of Brussels is divided between the Lower and Upper Towns. The Hotel de Ville (City Hall), scene of a great welcoming ball for the Duke of Wellington, is in the Lower Town, in the Grand Place, the most famous location in Brussels.

However beautiful this scene is, perhaps an even more familiar symbol of Brussels is the Mannekin Pis, the little statue that is often dressed in costumes and rivals the city’s chocolates, lace and tapestries for worldwide fame.

In the Upper Town, many fine mansions surround the Parc de Bruxelles where the uniforms of Dutch, Belgian, Prussian, Hanoverian and British soldiers could be seen on parade in 1815. The nearby Palais Royal and the Musee Royaux des Beaux-Arts date from a few decades after Waterloo. When Belgium became an independent country in 1830, the great powers chose as its king Leopold of Saxe-Coburg, once the husband of the British Princess Charlotte of Wales.

Kristine and I are looking forward to strolling the parks, the colorful streets and the lively cafes of Brussels as we search for the location of the Duke of Wellington’s headquarters and the site of the famous Duchess of Richmond’s Ball, from which so many brave officers left directly for the battles of Quatre Bras and Waterloo.

The painting of the Duchess of Richmond’s Ball in Brussels held on 15 June 1815 hangs in the country home of the Dukes of Richmond, Goodwood, in West Sussex. The artist is Robert Alexander Hillingford (1825-1904).

Another Englishman who was resident in Brussels at this time was the diarist Thomas Creevey, who left the following account of the Ball and the events that followed:

“On the 15th there was a ball at the Duke of Richmond’s, to which my daughters, the Miss Ords, and their brother went; but I stayed at home with Mrs. Creevey. About half-past eleven at night, I heard a great knocking at houses in my street—la Rue du Musee—just out of the Place Royale, and I presently found out the troops were in motion, and by 12 o’clock they all marched off the Place Royale up the Rue Namur. … I sat up, of course, till my daughters and their brother returned from the Duke of Richmond’s, which they did about two o’clock or half after. I then found that the Prussians had been driven out of Charleroi and other places by the French, and that all our army had been just then set in motion to meet them. The Duke had been at the ball—had received his intelligence there, and had sent off his different orders. There had been plenty of officers at the ball, and some tender scenes had taken place upon the ladies parting with them.”

For the remainder of the Battle, the town’
s residents were on pins and needles to know the status or outcome of the Battle. Dependable news and reports were few and far between. They could hear the artillery and they saw wounded troops coming back by the wagonload, not to mention some Prussian troops who had simply turned tail and fled the fight. Eventually, the news of the British-Prussian defeat of Napoleon spread. Many homes and public buildings were turned into hospitals to care for the wounded.

Below is the more likely view we 21st century travelers will have of Brussels this June.

Blenheim Palace, Oxfordshire, Part Three

How could a family keep up a house and estate this large? Such a question plagues the families who have the responsibility of great houses, though probably just a few with a property near this size. Many houses have been presented to the National Trust, but the Trust requires that properties given to them be accompanied by a large endowment for their maintenance and operation. Public funds are available to houses based on their historical significance, their degree of need, and the necessity of opening to visitors (which in itself involves many expenses for washrooms, parking, guarding, refreshments, repairs, etc. etc.).

Blenheim Palace attracts many visitors in itself, but never enough paying customers just to see the house and gardens. So, like many other stately homes in Britain, the estate is now a business, home to all sorts of events.

John Spencer-Churchill, 84, the 11th Duke of Marlborough, and his 4th wife, Her Grace Lily, Duchess of Marlborough

The Blenheim Horse Trials are justly famous, but only one of many sporting events held on the grounds. To amuse the children, the 11th duke began a railway, a maze, the Butterfly House, an adventure playground and the Churchill Exhibition.

The estate is the venue for all sorts of concerts, fairs, sporting events and can be hired for weddings.

Bike Blenheim is one of many charity events. Or attend one of the flower festivals, antique or craft shows, art exhbitions, and more.

Sad to say, but apparently true, the historical and cultural treasures of the great country estates with their incredible gardens — all these riches are not enough to attract sufficient numbers of paying customers to meet the bills. One has only to think of how many stately homes are now part of schools and colleges, hotels,
country clubs, or worst of all, demolished. In the latter category are hundreds of once thriving estates dating from the time when owning land was the key to wealth.

One more opportunity for earning money is to serve as the setting for movies and television programs. You have seen parts of Blenheim Palace and its grounds in scenes from many films, such as Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Kenneth Branagh’s Hamlet, The Young Victoria, The Oxford Murders, and currently filming, a version of Gulliver’s Travels.

The Blenheim Railway

David Littlejohn wrote a book called The Fate of the English Country House in 1997. If you are interested in this complicated set of issues (private fortunes vs. public support, national heritage vs. contemporary welfare, etc. etc.), find a copy of Littlejohn’s book. You’ll never tour quite the same way again.

Or go to this website for the story of 1,776 demolished country houses. It’s a sad story.

But aren’t we lucky that so many wonderful estates remain for us to visit. We’ll blog about more soon.

The London and Waterloo Tour – Crossing the English Channel

As Victoria and I will soon be crossing the English Channel, I thought it would be appropriate to share with you some of the passages from period letters related to the subject which contain first hand accounts of all the various perils attached to making the crossing, from techy customs agents to foul weather and mal de mer.

In fact, the Crossing on the ferries and packets was often so bad that Lady Mary Wortley Montagu paid five guineas in order to hire a private boat to cross channel, rather than taking the Packet. The following is a passage from a letter to her husband about the journey.

(Calais) July 27 (1739)

I am safely arrived at Calais, and found myself better on ship-board than I have been these six months; not in the least sick, though we had a very high sea, as you may imagine, since we came over in two hours and three-quarters. My servants behaved very well; and Mary not in the least afraid, but said she would be drowned very willingly with my ladyship. They ask me here extravagant prices for chaises, of which there is a great choice, both French and Italian: I have at last bought one for fourteen guineas, of a man whom Mr. Hall recommended to me. My things have been examined and sealed at the custom-house: they took from me a pound of snuff, but did not open my jewel-boxes, which they let pass on my word, being things belonging to my dress. I set out early tomorrow. I am very impatient to hear from you: I could not stay for the post at Dover for fear of losing the tide. I beg you would be so good to order Mr. Kent to pack up my side-saddle, and all the tackling belonging to it, in a box, to be sent with my other things: if (as I hope) I recover my health abroad so much as to ride, I can get none I shall like so well.

From The Berry Papers, Being the Correspondence Hitherto Unpublished of Mary and Agnes Berry

Friday, 16th (April, 1802)

Went on board the ‘Swift;’ sailed from Calais Pier a quarter after eleven: fine day, but the wind fell almost entirely. At seven o’clock in the evening we were within five miles of Dover in a dead calm; got into a Dover boat, were rowed into the harbour, and arrived at the York Hotel at a quarter after eight, having been just nine hours on our passage. (Quelle horror!)

And about a later return passage:

Sunday, 26th (May, 1815)

We arrived at Dover at six o’clock in the evening. Unfortunately, the custom-house officer was in a bad humour; he kept my sac de nuit and dressing-case; and instead of finishing the examination of the trunks, opened them, and threw the contents of one into the other, so as to spoil all within. I complained in vain, and was obliged to borrow night things from the landlady at the inn.

Monday, 27th

The custom-house officer of yesterday evening was still more rude to-day. I think he had been blamed for the manner in which he had treated me, and that made him worse. He kept all my shoes, pieces of worn dresses, and things that were marked, and made me pay for flowers which had been worn, etc. The superior custom-house officer, I well saw, wished to make him behave better, and to return what he had taken, but to no purpose.

The following passages were written by Princess Lieven

Calais, June 3 1822 – I crossed from Dover in two and a half hours, with the most superb weather. Tomorrow, I shall sleep at Lille and, the day after tomorrow, at Brussels.

And

Brighton – January 5, 1823 – I left Paris on the morning of the 3rd, I reached Dover after traveling all night. We had a good crossing; but, as we only embarked at five in the afternoon, it was pitch-dark when we neared the English coast. The packet-boat could not get in, and stayed out at sea. I decided on taking the small boat, much to the disgust of my husband, who does not fancy jaunts of that kind. There was a swell; the night was pitch-black. Getting into the boat was no fun at all; there was no gangway, no rope ladder, nothing; one had to wait for a wave to lift the cockle-shell high enough for one to throw oneself from the deck of the packet-boat into the arms of a waiting sailor. I managed very cleverly. When we got to shore, they had to run the boat aground; that was the worst part, for the waves drove us ashore and then dashed over us, and I was drenched from head to foot. When we reached the inn, the old house-keeper made me drink a glass of brandy and put me to bed; that is the great English remedy, and it did me good.

From the Letters of Lady Louisa Stuart

Versailles, 2nd of Septr. 1834.

I told you I should not write in a hurry, and you will be inclined to say I have kept my word. However here is a large sheet of thin paper, and so now let us see what we can do. We set out on Wednesday, having been, as you know, greatly obliged to your good-humoured sisters for a drive as far as London Bridge the day before. Wednesday was rather rainy, but cleared up towards evening. We slept at Dover, and embarked at seven the following morning; a very calm sea. By following a piece of good advice I had received, sitting still in the carriage, and leaning back with my eyes shut, neither speaking nor moving hand or foot, I escaped giddiness and sickness. Yet Louisa (Bromley), who did the same, was sick, though not usually so, therefore I crowed over her, a triumph I did not expect. The trial was short, for by half past nine we arrived in the road of Calais, but the tide not serving, were forced to go on shore in a boat, and had several hours to wait for the arrival of the carriage, which could not be landed till past three. Then came custom-house and various arrangements, so that the sun was setting before we were fairly off, and we only reached Boulogne, where we found the hotel choke full, and had very bad quarters. That evening three or four pelting thunder-showers compelled us to shut up our landaulet, though it was already very warm; but there ended all reason to complain of the weather (except, indeed, of its extreme heat last week), for from Friday the 12th to the present date it has been uninterrupted sunshine and moonshine, and these last three days we have had some refreshing autumn breezes.

And about her return

There arose a furious gale of wind, which did not abate in the least till Sunday night, so though we reached Calais rather early on Friday, we could not sail before Monday morning, and then had an unpleasant passage in a very rough sea with a contrary wind that made everybody mortally sick. We had seven carriages on board, there were as many in another vessel; in short, Calais was crowded, and all the packets were on that side of the water. We got to land in five hours, at eleven o’clock, but the tide did not serve for our carriage to be disembarked, passed through the custom-house, and repacked, till it was too late to proceed farther. We therefore got up by candle-light a second morning, and as the D
over road is almost all up and down hill, it was near seven on Tuesday evening when we alighted at this door. For all these perils and hardships (mighty great to be sure) I am none the worse, but Louisa caught cold by going to look at the wreck of a poor vessel which was lost off Calais on Saturday, and consequently she is as yet unable to set out for Baginton.

From the Letters of Lady Harcourt

To G. K. S.
Albert Gate, Tuesday, March 10, 1891.

We had an awful storm yesterday, a regular blizzard, and a terrible night in the Channel. One of the good boats, the Victoria, was out all night, not daring to land at either Dover or Calais. One of our young attachés was on board, bringing over despatches, and they say he looked green when he finally did arrive. The trains were snowed up everywhere, even between Folkestone and London, and the passengers nearly frozen and starved. It seems incredible in such a short distance. The young men are generally rather eager to bring over despatches, but I rather think this one won’t try it again, in winter at any rate. I am extraordinarily lucky in my crossings, because probably I am a good sailor. I go backward and forward in all seasons and always have good weather. The Florians have had some wonderful crossings, nine hours between Calais and Dover, both of them tied in their chairs, and the chairs tied to the mast.

And what better way to finish up this or any other piece of writing than with a letter from the Duke of Wellington? Here is a letter written to his niece, Lady Burgeresh, about the plans he’s made for her Channel crossing. Lest you think that Wellington was using his influence to secure special priviliges for his family, it should be known that Priscilla had been in England, quite ill, and was returning in an official capacity to Naples, where her husband was Ambassador.

From the Correspondence of Lady Burgeresh
London, August 6, 1826

Dearest Priscilla,

I am about to leave town, and write you a line to be sent to you to-morrow. Lord FitzRoy (Somerset) will have written you last night that I could not get for you the same vessel which conveyed you to Margate; but the Admiralty have consented to your having the use of another steam vessel, which is used for the purpose of towing, and therefore the accommodation is not quite so good as in that vessel of which you had the use before. Lord FitzRoy is, however, to go to Deptford to see her to-morrow, and if the accommodation should not be sufficient you are to have the use of the Admiralty yacht, a sailing vessel in which the accommodation is excellent, and the above-mentioned steam vessel to tow her, so that your passage is secured to Boulogne or Dieppe as you may think best. I now entreat you not to fix too early a day for your departure, as you cannot detain the vessels at Margate. You must go when they will arrive there. I have now named the 18th. But have said it is possible a later day may be fixed. You had better fix a day on which it will be certain that you can go. Recollect that you was a week too soon the last voyage, and that in this voyage, particularly if you determine to go to Dieppe, you may have some sea. Write to me and direct here. I am going only to Stratfield-Saye, and I will go to you as soon as I shall know whether I am to be Summoned to the Lodge on the King’s birthday, which I understood from the lady that she intended.

God bless you. Remember me most kindly to Emily, and believe me,

Yours most affecy.,
W

Unfortunately, since this post was written, the travel company has made a change to our plans – Kristine and Victoria are now scheduled to take the Eurostar through the tunnel, from London to Brussels. No mal de mer for us, though we know the train has broken down a few times. Instead of a Regency journey lasting days, we should now make it from St. Pancras, London, to Brussels, Belgium in slightly less than three hours. Rats . . . . . we were so looking forward to making the crossing in period fashion!