Author: Robert James

Using Visual Sources: “Ein Volk, ein Reich, ein Führer!”

Nia Picton-Phillips, a second year History student at the University of Portsmouth, wrote the following blog entry on a Nazi propaganda poster featuring Adolf Hitler for the Introduction to Historical Research Unit. Nia discusses the ways in which the image was used to promote various aspects of Nazi ideology. The unit is co-ordinated by Dr Maria Cannon, Lecturer in Early Modern History at Portsmouth.

The use of visual sources as a means of understanding the past has transformed historical knowledge. The ‘pictorial turn,’ as suggested by W. J. T. Mitchell, was “declared a new cultural phenomenon: a transition from a culture dominated by the book to one dominated by images.” [1] The value of visual sources is particularly prevalent in the study of Nazism. As John Tosh has noted, research “has been deepened by the study of official propaganda,” allowing scholars to understand how such propaganda was used to sustain the Third Reich. [2] The source in question is a propaganda poster of Adolf Hitler with the central slogan “Ein Volk, ein Reich, ein Führer!” (One People, one Country, one Leader!), which was widely distributed in Germany in the years after its commission in 1935. [3] As shown in this source, the Nazis manufactured propaganda to encourage confirmation from the public of a ‘national community,’ with the urge “to put ‘community before the individual’ […] and to place its faith in slogans”. [4] This poster, serving as a popular example of propaganda, as well as an attempt to restructure the ‘weak’ German society that was said to have been caused by the old Weimar system, enriches historians’ understanding of Nazi Germany through its symbolistic content. This source, and visual sources in general, highlight the benefits of the employment of visual sources to aid comprehension of the past.

The uses of symbolism in visual sources, especially within the context of Nazi Germany, act as interpretative measures “which reveal the basic attitude of a nation, a period, a class, a religious or philosophical persuasion.” [5] Politically, the slogan emphasised the desire for Nazi Germany to be a homogenous community, particularly racially. [6] This left an “indelible mark on the minds of most Germans who lived through the Nazi years,” because it appeared on a myriad of propaganda posters, as well being disseminated orally through speeches; an art of persuasion to transform the Third Reich into one total state. [7] The religious undertone of this source is reinforced when coupled with Hermann Göring’s comments that “God gave the saviour to the German people. We have faith, deep unshakeable faith, that he [Hitler] was sent to us by God to save Germany.” [8] The implication is that Hitler was ‘chosen’ to act upon God’s will.

This poster of Hitler contains two significant aspects of Nazi symbolism: the swastika and Reichsadler (‘Imperial Eagle’). To understand the visual source, it is important to place these symbols in context, questioning why and how they became the most significant symbols of the Nazi party, stigmatised by connotations of genocide, hatred and racism. In this source, Hitler wears a red swastika armband around his left arm, as a representation of the Nazi party, an image which was “crucial to the spread of Nazi success.” [9] In Mein Kampf Hitler gave a National Socialist meaning to images such as this: “in red we see the social idea of the movement, in white the nationalist idea, in the swastika the mission and the struggle for the victory of the Aryan man.” [10] Although this turned the ancient swastika into a symbol of hatred, as a symbol for Nazi rule, it provided the visual identity and national image for success. The Reichsadler, seen upon Hitler’s brown tie, had been a symbol of national unity for many years. It originated from the Holy Roman Empire and was used in its original form until 1935. However, a different edition of the Reichsadler, combined with the Nazi swastika, became the national emblem during the Nazi movement, as ordered by the Führer. It is, then, integral to consider symbols within an image. In this instance they reveal to historians a great deal about Germany as a nation, Hitler as its leader, and the sense of ‘national community’ being promoted within Germany.

As a consequence of the introduction of Mitchell’s ‘pictorial turn,’ the use of visual sources has been vastly debated amongst historians, such as Peter Burke, Stephen Bann, Francis Haskell and Peter Claus. Since the late eighteenth-century, “visual propaganda has occupied a large place in modern political history.” [11] Before its association with negative connotations, propaganda was deployed to promote “a particular goal […] desired by the propagandist.” [12] This goal, relating to this source, was to unify the German population with the creation of an intensified national awareness through the central idea of ‘ein Volk’ under the dictatorship of one leader. Claus recognised that to use visual sources appropriately, means to historically contextualise them beyond doubt, ensuring the sources can accurately enrich historical understanding. [13] Therefore, historians must place the source within its historical context but without limiting it. In this sense, “room should also be left for what Francis Haskell has called ‘the impact of the image on the historical imagination’.” [14] This extension of Burke’s argument allows historians to witness forms of past cultures, such as political life, religion, knowledge and belief. Bann noted that images bring us “face-to-face with history,” whereas Burke debates this usefulness. [15] The ‘silence’ of visual sources makes understanding their testimony difficult for historians, because sources “may have been intended to communicate a message of their own,” a message of which is not the historian’s. [16] This aspect, however, is sometimes ignored to ‘read’ visual sources “between the lines,” therefore distorting the meaning of the visual sources and thus distorting the historian’s understanding. [17] With sufficient analysis, and placed in their historical provenance, visual sources can and have provided historians with great insights of the past, further enhancing their understanding of particular issues.

Ultimately, the Nazi propaganda poster analysed in this blog highlights the efforts of Hitler and the Nazi party to initiate conformity to a ‘national community’ with the idea of a great leader. This was a leader who would be “hard, ruthless, resolute, uncompromising and radical’; a leader who would be a “ruler, warrior and high-priest like.” [18] This was an ideal of leadership which Nazi propaganda proved effective in portraying in the form of Hitler. This effectiveness casts light on social ‘rationality’ in this period, and allows us to understand why Hitler was as highly regarded and supported by the German population as he was. Many people in Germany believed that Hitler would be the leader to resolve the mistakes of the weak Weimar system. Symbolism in visual sources is thus integral to understanding the meaning and purpose of the source, and in this instance that symbolism is used to illuminate the idea of Hitler as a significant leader during the Third Reich. While there are obvious risks in using visual sources for historical understanding, as Katy Layton-Jones has rightly noted, their use “by academic historians has become not only acceptable, but actively encouraged.” [19] Nonetheless, they should always be analysed critically with regard to the context and agenda of the producer, or propagandist, as in the example used in this blog.

Notes

[1] Sol Cohen, “An Innocent Eye: The “Pictorial Turn,” Film Studies, and History,” History of Education Quarterly 43, no. 2, (2003), 250.

[2] John Tosh, The Pursuit of History: Aims, Methods and New Directions in the Study of History 6^th ed. (London: Routledge, 2015), 208.

[3] Heinrich Knirr, Color poster with a portrait of Hitler and the Nazi slogan: Ein Volk, ein Reich, ein Führer, 1935, United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, https://collections.ushmm.org/search/catalog/irn516176, last accessed 30 January 2018.

[4] David Welch, The Third Reich: Politics and Propaganda 2^nd ed. (London: Routledge, 2002), 61.

[5] Erwin Panofsky, Studies in Iconology: Humanistic Themes in the Art of the Renaissance, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1939), 7.

[6] Ein Volk, ein Reich, ein Führer, https://collections.ushmm.org/search/catalog/irn516176, last accessed 30 January 2018.

[7] Joseph W. Bendersky, A Concise History of Nazi Germany, (Plymouth: Rowman & Littlefield, 2007), 105.

[8] Gabriel Wilensky, Six Million Crucifixions: How Christian Teachings About Jews Paved the Road to the Holocaust, (San Diego: QWERTY Publishers, 2010), 86.

[9] Ian Kershaw, Hitler, 1889-1936: Hubris, (London: Penguin, 2001), 320.

[10] Adolf Hitler, Mein Kampf, (London: Pimlico, 1992), 497.

[11] Peter Burke, Eyewitnessing: The Uses of Images as Historical Evidence, (London: Reaktion Books, 2001), 79.

[12] Aristotle A. Kallis, Nazi Propaganda and the Second World War, (Basingstoke: Macmillian, 2008), 1.

[13] Peter Claus and John Marriott, History: An Introduction to Theory, Method and Practice, (Essex: Pearson Education, 2012), 263.

[14] Burke, Eyewitnessing, 13.

[15] Burke, Eyewitnessing, 13.

[16] Burke, Eyewitnessing, 14.

[17] Burke, Eyewitnessing, 14.

[18] Ian Kershaw, “How Effective was Nazi Propaganda?”, in Nazi Propaganda: The Power and the Limitations ed. David Welch, (London: Croom Helm, 1983), 185.

[19] Katy Layton-Jones, “Visual Quotations: Referencing Visual Sources as Historical Evidence,” Visual Resources 24, no. 2, (2008), 189.

April 16, 2018
Using Visual Sources: Equestrian Portrait of Charles I by Anthony van Dyck

Holly Chambers, a second year History student at the University of Portsmouth, wrote the following blog entry on the portrait of Charles I by Anthony van Dyck for the Introduction to Historical Research Unit. Holly discusses the ways in which we can use visual sources such as this to understand more about society at the time the portrait was commissioned and painted. The unit is co-ordinated by Dr Maria Cannon, Lecturer in Early Modern History at Portsmouth.

Equestrian Portrait of Charles I by Anthony van Dyck

The Equestrian Portrait of Charles I by Anthony van Dyck is currently on display at the National Gallery in London. [1] The portrait shows King Charles I on horseback, riding as if at the head of his knights. He is dressed in armour and holding a commander’s baton and wearing the medallion of a Garter Sovereign. He is depicted as elegant and powerful on a magnificent horse with a page holding helmet. [2] Peter Wagner states it is also important to look at the ‘iconotext’, (text in painting,). [3] In this painting there is a sign attached to a tree that reads “CAROLUS I REX MAGNAE BRITANIAE”, (Charles I of Great Britain,). [4] This is not only a clear political statement of his undisputed position as sovereign, but is also rather audacious because at the time of this painting the Acts of Union had not been passed.

As with any primary source, historians establish their own interpretation of an image; viewing art is bound by subjectivity and emotion. [5] It is important, therefore, to take into account the relationship between the artist, the patron and the viewer. [6] Historians are increasingly using alternative sources, such as visual, oral and virtual, but it is important to contextualise these. [7] This portrait is presumed to date from c1637, not long before the outbreak of civil war in 1642. [8] The English civil war was caused mainly by Charles’ belief in the divine right of kings, to the distain of the country. He took the severe decision to dissolve parliament in 1629 claiming that he was accountable only to God. As he ran out of money, however, he was forced to recall parliament twice in 1640. [9] He had a reputation as an uncompromising monarch. [10] When Charles I became king he soon became mixed up in arguments with his parliament over his raising of taxes without their consent. Charles seldom appeared at the meetings of his privy council and was uninterested in the errands of governance. [11]

Charles has suffered a highly damaged reputation. Generally Whig historians have viewed him as a determined but foolish king, whose actions and belief in his own rights resulted in the absolution of the monarchy. Republican writer Lucy Hutchinson argues that Charles was obstinate and so obsessive of ruling absolutely that he was “resolved to be such a king or none.” [12] It is probable that Charles’ most fatal flaw was his incapacity to recognise how his actions were viewed by his country. [13] It is probable that Charles actually saw himself as he is depicted in this painting. Since the 1970s, however, historians have looked into the underlying problems of the Stuart Monarchy. Conrad Russell paid specific consideration to the difficulties associated with ruling multiple kingdoms, England, Scotland and Ireland, which differed considerably in terms of political, legal and social structure, all of which were internally divided on religion. [14] Russell also highlights the difficulties of maintaining the prestige expected of a monarch of that time with exhausted revenues due to the financial mismanagement of his predecessors. [15] Leanda de Lisle argues that Charles I, despite his reputation, was in fact an heroic monarch who warrants respect and understanding. [16] Kevin Share’s study of Charles’ personal rule has highlighted Charles’ success, at least until the 1630s, which is the time of this painting. [17]

In 1632 van Dyck was established as ‘Principal Painter in Ordinary to their Majesties’. [18] He was rewarded with a knighthood and the grant of an annual pension of £200. [19] This would suggest that Charles found van Dyck’s work was giving off the right impression that Charles wanted to project. In this portrait Charles is shown as a powerful monarch in calm control. Van Dyck’s presence in Charles court placed England on the cultural map of Europe. [20] The Caroline court epitomised style and grace before the chaos of the civil war. [21] He is known for the perceptiveness of his portraits, his technical excellence and the power of his devotional work. [22] His reputation is likely to have greatly influenced Charles, who was trying to project and boost his own reputation and image.

Portraiture is useful to historians in that it can show a representation of how someone looks, although it needs to be remembered that this cannot be verified, and is always mediated by the painter (who would usually be expected to portray the subject in a very positive light, particularly if the subject was a member of royalty). More interestingly, however, portraits show a lot about the era that generated them, the attitude of the artist towards the sitter, and the position of the sitter in their society. [23] The artist, the patron, and viewers see the image in different ways. [24] This portrait shows Charles’ authority as reigning monarch; it shows that it was important to Charles to express his supremacy. It also suggests that by choosing an artist such as van Dyck, it was important to the King that he could and would have the best.

In the 1630s Charles dedicated much of his time to hunting and amassing his collection of art. [25] He “retreated into a fantasy world of symbolic representation in which the royal persona vanquished all opposition.” [26] He posed for many different portraits depicting him as the saviour of his kingdom. [27] When assessing the imposing images of Charles I shown in van Dyck’s portrait, painted during his personal rule, it is tempting to relate it to the trouble of the civil war, that unknown to them, was about to come. With hindsight it is easy to see the world Van Dyck captured as a realm in which Charles could hold onto his ideals of the divine right of kings, which in reality he could not do. [28] Van Dyck’s paintings communicated influential and commanding cultural, political and dynastic messages to sovereigns, as well as their courts and contemporaries. [29] Van Dyck was made Charles’ court painter in order to create images conveying the monarch’s belief in his divine right. [30] This portrait was a clear representation of those ideals.

Notes

[1] van Dyck, Anthony. Equestrian Portrait of Charles I, 1637-8, National Portrait Gallery, NG1172, https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/anthony-van-dyck-equestrian-portrait-of-charles-i (2018).

[2] National Portrait Gallery, https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/anthony-van-dyck-equestrian-portrait-of-charles-i (2018).

[3] Peter Burke, Eyewitnessing The Use of Images as Historical Evidence (London: Reaktion Books, 2001): 39

[4] van Dyck, Equestrian Portrait of Charles I.

[5] Sarah Barber, History Beyond the Text: A Students Guide to Approaching Alternative Sources ed. Sarah Barber and Corinna M. Peniston-Bird (Oxford: Routledge: 2009): 16.

[6] Barber, History beyond the Text: 17.

[7] Barber, History beyond the Text: 16 and 19.

[8] National Portrait Gallery, https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/anthony-van-dyck-equestrian-portrait-of-charles-i (2018); Sally Coffey, “King or Country,” Britain: 64

[9] Sally Coffey, “King or Country,” Britain: 64.

[10] Coffey, “King or Country,” 64

[11] Coffey, “King or Country,” 64

[12] Robert Zaller, “Charles I: A Pretender to His Own Throne?” Journal of Psychohistory 45, no.2 (2017): 113.

[13] Goodlad, “Charles I: Author of his Own Downfall?”: 20.

[14] Goodlad, “Charles I: Author of his Own Downfall?”: 22.

[15] Goodlad, “Charles I: Author of his Own Downfall?”: 20.

[16] Goodlad, “Charles I: Author of his Own Downfall?”: 21.

[17] Linda Porter, “ABSOLUTIST MARTYR OR MURDEROUS TRAITOR? Nearly 400 years after his execution, Charles I’s actions and legacy continue to divide scholarly opinion” History Today 68, no. 2 (2018).

[18] Goodlad, “Charles I: Author of his Own Downfall?”: 21.

[19] Tony Osborne, “Van Dyck and His Patrons” History Today 49, no.9 (1999): 6

[20] Osborne, “Van Dyck”: 6.

[21] Osborne, “Van Dyck”: 6.

[22] Deborah Cherry and Jennifer Harris, “Eighteenth-Century Portraiture and the Seventeenth-Century Past: Gainsborough and Van Dyck,” Art History 5, no. 3 (1982): 287.

[23] Osborne, “Van Dyck”: 6.

[24] Barber, History beyond the Text: 19.

[25] Burke, Eyewitnessing: 40.

[26] Zaller. “Charles I,” :120.

[27] Zaller, “Charles I,” : 113.

[28] Osborne, “Van Dyck”: 6.

[29] Osborne, “Van Dyck”: 6.

[30] National Portrait Gallery, https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/anthony-van-dyck-equestrian-portrait-of-charles-i (2018)

April 9, 2018
‘Make your public curious’: The highs and lows of being a cinema manager

In this blog Dr Rob James, Senior Lecturer in History, discusses the challenges of being a cinema manager in Britain in the first half of the 20^th century. Rob specialises in researching society’s leisure activities and teaches a number of units on film and the cinema, including, as part of the Problems and Perspectives unit, ‘History at the Movies’ in the first year, ‘The Way to the Stars: Film and cinema-going in Britain, c. 1900-c. 2000’ option in the second year, and a Special Subject on ‘Cinema-going in Wartime Britain, 1939-1945’ in the third year.

Going to the cinema is the result of a series of choices. A number of ‘push’ and ‘pull’ factors operate in those decisions. Simply put, ‘push’ factors are things like bad weather, where patrons would go to the cinema in order to keep cosy and warm; ‘pull’ factors are those that draw cinema-goers in, such as the film being shown. In the first half of the twentieth century, when cinema-going was, to use the often quoted phrase by A.J.P. Taylor, the ‘social habit of the age’, cinema-goers were offered a wide variety of films to watch and a large number of cinemas in which to watch them. [1] Here in Portsmouth, for example, there were 29 cinemas located across the town at the start of the Second World War. [2] On top of this, consumers had a host of other leisure activities – pub-going, dancing, reading – competing for their free time, so going to the cinema was a conscious decision made after taking a series of choices. Cinema managers knew that if they were to run a successful and profitable business, they had to respond to the needs of the public. As a result, they paid close attention to their patrons’ film preferences, and many managers ran extravagant publicity campaigns in order to attract customers into their cinema halls.

Odeon Cinema, North End, Portsmouth

Across the country cinema mangers went to significant lengths to promote the films their cinemas were due to screen, and their campaigns were often mentioned in the film trade papers. One of the most important cinema managers’ journals of the period, Kinematograph Weekly, ran regular features that detailed the techniques local managers employed to advertise a film, using feature titles such as ‘What managers are doing’ and ‘Showmanship’. [3] The paper often awarded prizes to managers who ran the most enterprising campaigns. One particularly active manager operating in Portsmouth during the 1930s and 1940s, Patrick Reed, won a prize for the campaigns he ran while managing the Odeon cinema in North End in 1938. As part of his film promotion strategies he arranged tie-ins with a large number of shops to advertise fashion house drama Vogues of 1938 (1937), and overprinted the pay envelopes of the employees of several large companies in the town with notes about the musical film Something to Sing About (1937). [4]

Queens Cinema, Portsea, Portsmouth

Cinema managers faced a number of challenges, however, and not just competition from other cinemas operating in the area. One particularly sad event took place in April 1931 when the manager of the Queens cinema in Portsmouth, Mr H. E. Bingham, took his own life after a film failed to arrive in time for what would have undoubtedly been a busy Easter weekend, leaving a note written in chalk on the wall reading ‘NO SHOW. FINISH’. [5] The cinema was situated in Queen Street, near the naval barracks and Dockyard, and had attracted cinema-goers who lived in the immediate vicinity along with those working in and around the Dockyard and naval barracks. Problems started for Mr Bingham when the Council initiated a policy of slum clearance and moved lots of the district’s working-class residents to a new housing estate in Hilsea. [6] Mr Bingham had repeatedly complained to the Council about the effects of their policies on his business, and threatened to close the cinema a number of times due to the fall in takings at the box-office. [7] The failure of the film to arrive clearly tipped him over the edge.

Harry Sanders

For many managers, though, the cinema industry offered a long and productive career. One particularly successful manager, Harry Sanders, ran a number of cinemas in England from the early 1920s until the mid-1960s, most notably the State cinema (later renamed Granada) in Grantham, where he served for over 20 years until his retirement in 1963. [8] Sanders recognised the importance of film promotion and, in October 1933, wrote a piece for Kinematograph Weekly in which he advised managers to ‘Make your public curious’ in order to obtain ‘big box-office business’. [9] Many of Sanders campaigns were highly flamboyant, but one particularly noteworthy campaign occurred in 1952 when he arranged for a herd of elephants to be paraded through Grantham in order to promote the circus film The Greatest Show on Earth. What a sight it must have been for the residents of that modest Lincolnshire market town to see elephants roaming through their streets! The stunt was, of course, remarked upon for making quite an impact, and it is still mentioned in popular histories of the town whenever ‘Uncle Harry’ – as Sanders was affectionately known – is remembered. [10]

Promotional poster

Cinema managers like Sanders expended considerable energy ensuring that their businesses were successful. Unfortunately, most of their activities have been forgotten and the material they collated over the years has been lost to the historical record. I will, therefore, end this blog with an appeal. Harry Sanders kept much of the material that documented his life as a cinema manager – cinema ledgers, promotional material, exhibitors’ diaries, etc. – and his papers were donated by his son Howard to the National Science and Media Museum in Bradford. If you have (or had) a relative who worked as a cinema manager, or know of any such material, please get in touch with me on robert.james@port.ac.uk. It would be a great way to add to our limited knowledge of cinema managers’ lives in the twentieth century.

Notes

[1] Cited in Jeffrey Richards, The Age of the Dream Palace: Cinema and Society in Britain 1930-1939, (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1984), p. 11.

[2] Robert James, ‘Cinema-going in a Port Town, 1914-1951: Film Booking patterns at the Queens Cinema, Portsmouth’, Urban History, 40.2, 2013, pp. 315-335, p. 317.

[3] See, for example, Kinematograph Weekly, 12 February 1931, 35 and ibid., 30 June 1938, p. 52.

[4] Kinematograph Weekly, 7 April 1938, p. 50; ibid., 23 June 1938, p. 62.

[5] Sue Harper, ‘A Lower Middle-Class Taste Community in the 1930s: Admissions Figures at the Regent Cinema, Portsmouth, UK’, Historical Journal of Film, Radio and Television, 24.2, 2004, pp. 565-587, p. 566.

[6] For an analysis of the Council’s housing policies in this period see C.P. Walker, ‘Municipal Enterprise: A Study of the Interwar Municipal Corporation of Portsmouth 1919-1939’ (unpublished University of Portsmouth MA dissertation, 2003).

[7] Evening News, 8 April 1931; Kinematograph Weekly, April 16 1931, p. 29.

[8] Harry Sanders Collection, National Science and Media Museum, Bradford.

[9] Ibid.

[10] See ‘Sanders, Harry – Uncle Harry put the fun into Grantham’, http://www.granthammatters.co.uk/sanders-harry/ (accessed 21 March, 2018).

March 30, 2018
Using Personal Sources: Jane Austen’s Letters

Eleanor Doyle, a second year History student at the University of Portsmouth, wrote the following blog entry on one of Jane Austen’s letters to her sister Cassandra for the Introduction to Historical Research Unit. Eleanor discusses how we can use personal sources such as this to understand more about an author’s personal relationships as well as wider contemporary experiences. The unit is co-ordinated by Dr Maria Cannon, Lecturer in Early Modern History at Portsmouth.

Jane Austen’s reputation as a celebrated English novelist is well established. However, her letters to her sister, Cassandra Austen, provide a rewarding insight into her as an individual. This blog will focus on a letter Jane sent to her sister in September 1813. [1] Studying Jane through her own words seems particularly appropriate when considering Robert Liddell’s view that her novels, such as Pride and Prejudice, were “her true form of expression.” [2] However, this identifies a significant academic debate: Liddell prioritises the value of Jane’s novels, while Elaine Bander and Robert Chapman argue that the letters reveal personal aspects of Jane. [3] This blog favours the latter interpretation and will demonstrate how this letter makes it possible to understand and value Jane’s relationship with Cassandra, as well as helping us to learn significantly about Jane and her close female friends’ attitudes to fashion and clothing. Therefore, while the limitations of this letter will be discussed, this blog maintains that it offers a unique perspective into Jane Austen’s life.

Portrait of Jane Austen (c. 1810) by her sister Cassandra

The value of this letter cannot be understood without recognising the author’s relationship with the intended reader, Cassandra. The first sentence acknowledges it is a reply to Cassandra’s letter and that this letter, written “after dinner” follow’s Jane’s earlier reply. [4] Although a single letter cannot be used to prove a pattern, Elaine Bander recognises that the sisters wrote to each other two or three times a week. [5] Furthermore, the frequency and content of their letters suggests a close bond between the two sisters. Mary August Austen-Leigh notes that they were educated together since time apart from her “beloved sister” would have “broken her [Jane’s] heart.” [6] This close bond is best evidenced in this letter in the thoughtfulness Jane demonstrates in waiting to hear if her sister likes the colour of ‘the Gown’ she sent to her. [7] Furthermore, Carol Houlihan Flynn notes that the ease and informality with which Jane wrote to her sister, using dashes to “casually break up endless paragraphs” confirms their deep bond. For example, Jane’s discussion of the new caps she and Fanny bought is immediately followed by concern for her brother Henry. [8] Since these two matters have no apparent link, the seemingly chaotic structure of this letter should be understood, as Joan Rees notes, as evidence of the relationship “between two close and affectionate sisters.” [9] This demonstrates, therefore, that Jane’s letters offer an insight into her relationship with her sister that could not be understood through reference to her novels alone.

The letter’s content also reveals a greater understanding of contemporary attitudes to fashion and clothing. There are numerous references made to items of clothing throughout the letter such as ‘gowns’, ‘caps’, ‘stockgs’ (stockings), and “a white silk Handkf” (handkerchief). [10] However, this letter provides more than a list of popular items. It also identifies that some items such as the caps were made elsewhere since Jane records their arrival, along with their descriptions: such as “white sarsenet and Lace”. [11] However, because Jane discusses being “tempted” by some ‘Edging” and purchasing “some very nice plaiting Lace”, as well as mentioning Fanny buying “Net for Anna’s gown”, it can be inferred that at least some of their clothes were made by the women. [12] This is confirmed by Sarah Tytler, who praises Jane’s needlework skills as having “exquisite finish”; a view also echoed by Hilary Davison. [13] Therefore, this letter strongly suggests that Jane and her close friends were involved in making their own clothes. As Davison has noted, this is very difficult to evidence by using a material culture approach alone. This, then, demonstrates the value of personal sources to resolve issues in studies of material culture. However, the frequency with which fabric and style are discussed suggests that Jane’s letters could also be used as a means by which to investigate contemporary fashion. Claire Tomalin recognises that Cassandra and Jane often wrote to each other about fashion and fabrics. [14] Therefore, it would be appropriate to conclude that these letters provide a unique insight into the activities of Jane and her close female friends. The insight provided into Jane’s life as a relatively wealthy woman in the early nineteenth century is significant and identifies areas for further investigation.

Finally, it has been demonstrated that this single letter reveals more about the life of Jane Austen than might be expected, and thus deserves further consideration by academics. Fittingly, Roger Sales argues that the collection of Jane’s letters remains “the single most neglected historical source for this period”. [15] However, it must also be recognised that this letter, and the collection it belongs to, has limitations. Firstly, as has been discussed, this letter, along with the majority of other letters compiled by Chapman, were sent to Cassandra, who edited and destroyed parts of Jane’s letters before she passed her collection on. [16] Consequently, it is impossible to know whether valuable letters were lost. However, it is arguable that Cassandra’s editing is further evidence of her close relationship with Jane and perhaps an attempt to censor or to highlight what she considered to be important. [17] Since their letters reflect their personal relationship it is possible that she believed some of the content to be unimportant or too sensitive to be read by others. Sales’ view that the letters allowed Jane and her contemporaries to “lose the ‘countenance’” expected of them in public would support this view. [18] It is unwise to suggest that a true idea of Jane Austen can be understood through her letters. As Marian Dobson has recognised, most academic opinion suggests letters offer a place for the individual to discuss their feelings rather than show their true self. [19] Rees has also acknowledged (in the case of Harold Nicolson) that much academic criticism has focused on the lack of interesting content in such letters. [20] An example of this is perhaps the “Eighteen pence due to my Mother” than Jane encloses. [21] However, the more recent historiographical shift to focusing on the ‘mundane’ and valuable ‘nothingness’ in these letters to help explain wider contemporary experiences is highly important. [22] The findings of this blog about Jane’s letter have indeed shown that the seemingly small or insignificant details, such as the lace she bought, actually offer important insights into her life. [23]

This analysis of Jane Austen’s letter to her sister demonstrates that this personal document allows us a deeper understanding of Jane’s life. This letter offers specific detail on Jane’s relationship with her sister and illuminates aspects of Jane’s experience of fashion and clothing. Although our understanding of Jane Austen would greatly benefit from a comparative analysis studying all of her letters, this work has shown that her life is more richly understood by using her private letters to her sister.

Notes

[1] Jane Austen, “Thursday 16^th September 1813,” R.W. Chapman, Jane Austen’s Letters to her sister Cassandra and others, volume 3 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1932), 325-328.

[2] Elaine Bander, “Jane Austen’s World: Jane Austen’s Words,” Persuasions: The Jane Austen Journal 37 (2015): 186; Robert Liddell, The Novels of Jane Austen (London: Longmans, Green and Co, 1963), 143.

[3] Bander, “Jane Austen’s World,” 186; R.W. Chapman, Jane Austen Facts and Problems (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1948), 1-2.

[4] Austen, “Thursday 16^th September 1813.”

[5] Bander, “Jane Austen’s World,” 187 -188.

[6] Mary August Austen-Leigh, Personal Aspects of Jane Austen (London: John Murray, 1920), 21.

[7] Austen, “Thursday 16^th September 1813.”

[8] Ibid.

[9] Joan Rees, Jane Austen: Woman and Writer (London: Robert Hale & Company, 1976), 52.

[10] Austen, “Thursday 16^th September 1813.”

[11] Ibid.

[12] Ibid.

[13] Sarah Tytler, Jane Austen and Her Works (London: Cassell, Petter Galpin & Co, 1880), 11. Quoted in Roger Sales, Jane Austen and Representations of Regency England (London: Routledge, 1994), 4; James Edward Austen-Leigh, A Memoir of Jane Austen and Other Family Recollections, ed. by Kathryn Sutherland (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008), 77. Quoted in Hilary Davison, “Reconstructing Jane Austen’s Silk Pelisse, 1812-1814,” Costume 49, no.2 (2015): 211.

[14] Claire Tomalin, Jane Austen: A Life (London: Penguin Books, 1997), 112.

[15] Sales, Jane Austen and Representations, xiv.

[16] R.W. Chapman, Jane Austen’s Letters to her sister Cassandra and others, volume 3 (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1932); Carol Houlihan Flynn, “The Letters,” in The Cambridge Companion to Jane Austen ed. Edward Copeland and Juliet McMaster (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 100; Rees, Jane Austen: Woman, 13; Robert Liddell, The Novels of Jane Austen (London: Longmans, Green and Co, 1963), 145.

[17] Houlihan Flynn, “The Letters,” 100.

[18] Sales, Jane Austen and Representations, xiv.

[19] Miriam Dobson, “Letters” in Reading Primary Sources: The Interpretation of Texts from Nineteenth and Twentieth Century History, ed. by Miriam Dobson and Benjamin Zieman (Abingdon: Routledge, 2009), 60.

[20] Harold Nicholson, Report Jane Austen Society (1948). Quoted in Rees, Jane Austen: Woman, 52.

[21] Austen, Thursday 16^th September 1813.

[22] Dobson, “Letters,” 58-60; Houlihan Flynn, “Letters,”110-113.

[23] Austen, “Thursday 16^th September 1813.”

Source: Austen, Jane. “Thursday 16^th September 1813,” R. W. Chapman, Jane Austen’s Letters to her sister Cassandra and others Volume 3, 325-328. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1932.

Eleanor Doyle is President of the University of Portsmouth Students’ Union History Society.

March 16, 2018
James Greenwood – Social Reformer or Opportunist?

Rory Herbert, final year History student and President of the History Society at the University of Portsmouth, has written the following blog on the 19^th century social investigator James Greenwood. Rory is Gale Ambassador at the university and contributes to The Gale Review Blog. The role of the Gale Ambassador is to increase awareness of the Gale primary source collections available to students at their university. The University of Portsmouth Library hosts a large collection of Gale primary sources which History students can use when undertaking archival research for their dissertations and other research projects.

James Greenwood was an author of relative obscurity who came to fame abruptly following the publication of his serial A Night in the Workhouse in the 1860s by the Pall Mall Gazette. He soon found himself rising through the ranks of the Victorian social ladder and became one of the leading social commentators of his age. This revolutionary piece saw Greenwood experience the conditions of a workhouse first-hand in one of the first examples of investigative journalism. Yet, while his work was quickly adopted by social reformers and critics alike, it seems the author himself was somewhat less interested in the people he claimed to support and, instead, focused on appealing to a wider audience.

To read the rest of Rory’s blog, click here.

Exterior of Whitechapel Workhouse. Image courtesy of Gale Primary Sources

March 8, 2018
Learning is for life – a guide for the mature student

Nicholas Hawkins, first year History and Politics student at the University of Portsmouth, has written the following blog on what it’s like to start university as a mature student. Reflecting on many of the things that concern mature students when contemplating a return to education – family commitments, finance, fitting in – Nick offers a candid account of his journey from prospective student to a first-year undergrad experiencing his first few months at university.

In my last year at school I was taught in the new ROSLA block which stood for “Raising of the School Leaving Age” as Ted Heath had done just that in 1972, from 15 to 16. However, there was a lot to be said for being a baby boomer; apart from living in a time of relative peace, antibiotics that worked, affordable housing, you didn’t need to get a degree before you could get a decent job. In the late 1970s you could get a commission in the armed forces (for example) with just five ‘O’ Levels, as they were called in the pre-GCSE days. My comprehensive school didn’t even offer ‘A’-level so I had to take those at evening classes – an opportunity which seems to have disappeared now.

I never really felt deprived by not having a degree – well not the certificate anyway, as none of my peers had one either and conversation down the pub tended to be of the “self-made expert” variety. No one had ever heard of ol’ wasisname…. Shakespeare! But there is a certain satisfaction in being able to do the Telegraph crossword, get paid for writing a magazine article and being asked to speak at a conference. It wasn’t until my last job, when I found myself managing a bunch of postgrads that I realised I’d missed out on something.

If you’re only of the punk rock generation, you will probably still be able to make good use of a degree to climb the career ladder, but if you’re a fifty-something you may be thinking that retirement could mean just watching Loose Women on daytime telly. For those of us who started work in our teens, we’ve paid off our mortgages and made all our National Insurance contributions, so we have an opportunity to re-live our misspent youths. Not only that but, as a 21-year-old I met when coming to a University Open Day said: “It’s alright for you, you can study whatever you like, I have to study something that’ll get me a job”. Ahhh, the satisfaction of being old and grey!

The perils of finding employment aside, one of the things that does put us oldies off applying to come to university is the worrying of financing it. While I’m not financially qualified to offer advice, there is some good guidance out there, and on a recent programme I watched – Martin’s Money Show – there were some really good tips dealing explicitly with the subject of student loans, and there was even a question from a mature student who was concerned about paying it back. In case you’re interested, here’s a link to the show.

Unlike the “can’t live without a mobile phone” generation, we wrinklies tend to have commitments which mean we can’t run away from home, so our choice of university, in practice, is limited to the Open University or getting out and talking to real people at our local uni. Don’t be fooled into thinking that all other students are just out of nappies or they’re a bunch of alcoholic lefty activists. They’ll only too willingly tell you the difference between a bit, byte and a nibble, but will appreciate your mature leadership in group exercises and your “degree from the university of life”. If you don’t have to rush home to take Rover to the park or plant your roses there are a shed load of clubs and societies to join including a thriving mature students’ group – just don’t refer to it as the “Darby and Joan Club”!

Ultimately, it’s a great and enjoyable way to pick up a new skill, and the best bit has to be getting a student ticket on the bus. In reply to the driver’s disbelief I explained that I was the Vice Chancellor!

Nick Hawkins (age 56¾)

February 28, 2018