 |
| Val 6th August 1943 - 17th July 2019 |
My name is Hannah Phillips. Today is Tuesday 10th May in the year of our Lord, seventeen hundred and seven. Usually, of a Tuesday, I’d be cleaning bed chambers at the Little Severn Hall where I am a ‘Lady’s Maid’, to the young Misses Amber and Ruby Pargiter. But today, my mistress, Lady Pargiter, has given me a day off to prepare for my wedding tomorrow.
Wednesday is said to be the luckiest day of the week for a wedding – better than the unlucky days of Friday or Saturday, I’m told.
Madam is very particular about the bed chambers – I even ‘ave
to dust the tops of the wardrobes! Not easy for me as I’m only five-foot nothin’
as Miss Ruby often reminds me. Miss Amber didn’t seem too pleased when I told ‘er
my Jack was goin’ to see the Master for permission to ask for my ‘and in
marriage.
‘Er said, “Phillips, I think you could do better than Beddowes the under gardener – but do you love him and does he love you?”
“Er, I dunna rightly know, Miss,” says I, “if you please Miss, I think we love each other as well as we might. We only sees one another at church on Sundays. Times ‘e’s down by the Severn when I go visit my family once a month and ‘e rows me across t’ save me ‘aving to paddle the ford. If you please, Miss.”
“Well,” says Miss Amber, “You could help me in the school room, like your younger sister, Catherine. She has learned to read and write and is helping to teach your young sisters and the other estate children too. They will maybe be able to become governesses or the like, which is better than being a lady’s maid. You have learned good manners, how to sew and how to speak well, Phillips, in your ten years with us and we’re very fond of you.”
“Lorks, Miss, begging your pardon, but there weren’t no schooling when I started ‘ere as a scullery maid ‘n I were on’y twelve. I’m ‘appy as I am. Y’ know I’ve a fine ‘and at the needle, me mother taught me to cook, an’ we’ve been promised a nice little cottage to live in on the estate, with free fuel an’ a garden an’ all, Miss.”
“Ah well,” says Mis Amber, “at least you’re not carried away with the thought of getting married for the sake of the pretty dresses and rings and excitement, like Ruby. She’ll marry the first man to ask her, who I think will be that new curate at St Calixtus. He’s been fawning around her recently.”
“Well now Miss,” says I, “y’ know I’m not one f’r excitement ‘n fancy dresses, but the Mistress has given me a lovely old blue dress of hers, as she says blue is the traditional colour for purity in brides and will bring out the colour of me eyes! Me little sisters have Miss Ruby’s outgrown sprigged white muslin gowns to wear, which Madam says I can use bits of to make us matching caps with white lace and blue ribbons. Ma says matching caps is so the evil spirits can’t tell who is the bride when we’re walking to church, as that’s when I’ll be in most danger from ’em!”
“That’s all superstitious nonsense, Phillips, you should know that,” says Miss Amber, “but I shall make you a present of a pair of the finest white kid gloves and enough yards of blue ribbon so you sew and titivate to your heart’s content!”
I’ve had to alter my dress of course as the Mistress is taller and bigger all round than me and it’s all ready now, save for the last stitch to put in the hem, which tradition says I must not do ‘til just before I leave for the church. Eh but I can’t wait to see my Jacks’s face when I walk down the aisle in my finery! He’s only ever seen me in my workaday black, white cap and apron and Sunday-best grey fustian. My Jack’ll be smart too in a good brown suit and breeches of the Master’s - what the Mistress give me – the Master might get a shock though.
Well it’s time I stopped speakin’ to me mommets, I need to go and pick flowers and mek the church ready for tomorrow. Mother’s busy in the kitchen bakin’ the ‘bride’s pie’ – she’s actually mekin’ two – one wi’ meat and one sweet mince – there’ll be a glass ring hidden in one o’ them and I wonder which girl will get that piece of pie an’ll be the next to wed. The Master telt Jack to sweep out the barn and set up tables with benches as the Mistress is giving us a wedding breakfast. Madam said it’s time for a celebration at the Hall and we all need cheering up after the sad death of our scullery maid Betsy. She dies from the awfu’ disease that so many maidens get – ch-chlor-osis. We could tell she had it because her face went yellow-green. We made her a maiden’s garland’, which was carried before the bier on a white rod and then hung in the church, as she was a virgin and is now married to God. We made the wreath with a crown of heart-shaped wood, decorated with gloves, lace, ribbons and primmie-roses, which are the flower for maidens with that illness – being yellow and green.
Good thing brought some of Mother’s potted meat and a slice of ‘er bread with me, but instead of ‘avin it for me dinner I gave it old Enoch to tek me across the Severn in ‘is coracle – ‘n’ I was so dizzy being swirled roon’ in the current. I didn’t feel much like eatin’ anyway!
Mekin’ me way through the perfumed woods I filled me basket wi’ bluebells, they’ll fill the church with lovely scent. I picked pink cranesbill and white wood anemones, like little stars. I didn’t bother with the pretty red field poppies because they shed their petals so soon. I was tempted though by the creamy may blossom foaming the hedgerows, but I remembered Mother’s anger when I brought a branch into the house last May – she screamed at me to take it out as it would cause a death in the house and sure enough my poor granny died soon after – she was a good age though! I’m sure Mother still blames me! But I couldn’t resist picking a branch or two today for the church – anyways Miss Amber say it’s superstitious nonsense.
It's my usual duty of a Tuesday, after I’ve cleaned the bed chambers at the Hall, to walk across to Astley Abbotts and tidy the church ready for any Wednesday weddings. So today I gave everywhere an extra seep and polish of the wood and brasses. Then I spent a few hours making garlands with my pretty flowers, and ivy form the church yard, fixing them onto the ends of the pews until I was satisfied that everything was perfect form my wedding day. I gradually, though noticed a putrid pong, like a rat had died hidden away under the floorboards somewhere. But it was getting late and there was not time to search the church, I just hope that by the morrow, the bluebells would have masked the stink, whatever it is.
I hurriedly grabbed my basket and set off through the hay field to pick cornflowers and forget-me-knots for my bouquet, to match my clue dress and the ribbons. Pink corncockle and white daisy corn chamomile, for the maids’ posies. I was tempted again by the cream blossom in the hedgerows, the colour of my hair. My Jack loves my hair – he said he fell in love with the flaxen curls which always escaped from my maid’s cap.
Today I’m wearing an old work gown, and I’ve left my long hair loose but covered my head with a shawl to keep the twigs and leaves from getting stuck in the curls. Anyway, pretty as the may blossom is and I could have smuggled a spring in each of the posies, It has wicked thorns which would prick the little maids’ fingers, spilling spots of red on their white muslin gowns – not to mention what Mother would do to me if she saw me take it in the house!
My basket’s full now with lovely spring flowers. I’m feeling hungry and a bit faint and wishing I hadn’t given my dinner to old Enoch. Mother will have supper ready for me though. My last supper at home – she’ll have made my favourite – pig’s chitterlings. I know she’ll miss me, and I’ll miss her and my father and sisters.
I hope old Enoch is there though to take me across the
river, as with the rain we’ve had, the ford is high, and the current is strong …
on the eve of her wedding,
May 10th 1707.
At the meeting when Val read this out and explored the idea of developing a novel from the story, she shared some of her notes with us:
- It is two of three years since I first discovered Hannah Phillips’ maiden’s garland, preserved in a glass case at St Calixtus Church, Astley Abbots. It has a heart-shaped wooden frame, which I like to think was carved by her fiancĂ© and possibly decorated by her sister, Catherine, with faded gloves, fabric and ribbons. I have often thought of Hannah since. One source states that only her purse was found near the ford but her body was never recovered. There are no birth or burial records for her as far as I know. The church leaflet mentions that Catherine Phillips, Hannah’s sister set up an educational foundation that still exists today.
- May blossom, or midland hawthorn c. laeigata has flowers which stink of putrid flesh soon after being gathered, because trimethylamine, which is formed when animal tissues decay, is also present in hawthorn flowers.
- The oldest surviving maidens’ garland was made in 1680 and is displayed in St Mary’s Church, Beverley, Yorkshire.
- The most recent known maidens’ garland on display a t Abbots Ann, Hampshire was made for Florence Jane Wisewell, who died aged 72 years in 1953.
- A church at Minsterley, Shropshire, has the largest number of surviving crowns, six suspended on wooden pegs, each finished with a wooden heart inscribed with the maid’s initials and date of death. One is displayed in a glass case so visitors can get a closer look.
- On Facebook a few days ago, Sam, aka Delphine Woods, posted a link to the-history-girls blogspot.com and a blog by Deborah Swift entitled, ‘Funeral for a Virgin – maiden’s crowns’. I told Sam about Hannah and suggested her story would be a good idea for a novel. On re-reading Deborah Swift’s blog, I noticed that she also suggested that, ‘such an interesting custom deserves to be immortalized in a novel.’
- So I can not even claim this as my own, ‘novel idea’!
2 comments:
A very interesting read. Always wish I'd been able to meet Val .
Oh I wish she had lived to finish it
Post a Comment