Grantville Gazette-Volume XV Page 5

  A priest, a new visitor from Rome also dining that evening, stepped in and cleared up the confusion. He explained to me I was truly being described as a man of breeding and quality, and that the word had moved later in meaning back to the Old English form. To the surprised Americans at the table at my violent reaction, he added that to a Stuart Englishman they had unknowingly insinuated I was a court ponce or a pimp.

  Obviously, the German or Dutch editions of these books do not have such confusions; the publishers take care to use local phrases to pass on the intended meaning during translation. A printer in Hamburg later explained it to me using another of these attractive American terms: "No point upsetting the target audience."

  Gladly, Mary and I shall be happy to stand up for the child, and we thank you both for your kind offer. We hope and expect to be with you before the end of June in time for the birth.

  However she believes we have found a way to decide the argument between you both on a name for the little one, and a suggestion.

  Mary speculates using Honoura's family's' future Christian names, as shown in the book.

  She suggests naming the child "Darcy" if a boy, or a girl "Catherine."

  Yours,

  Robert and Mary Weasenham

  Robert folded the paper, unfolded one side of the parcel, and slid the note inside next to the exquisite up-time book and the glossary. Resealing the parcel, he wrote an address on a scrap piece of paper to give to the boy to send by messenger

  To: The Marquis of Winchester Lord John Paulet,

  and his Wife, Lady Honoura De Berg

  Basing House

  Southamptonshire

  * * *

  Notes for the Reader

  All the English characters are historical. The Englishmen attended or were around Exeter College, Oxford between 1610 and 1620. The Russell and Paulet families were heavily involved in developing the English woad experiments in their western estates in Cornwall and Dorset respectively.

  The Weasenhams had been trading from Bishops Lynn (Renamed Kings Lynn in Tudor times) since the 1330s. The family were one the four strongest English trading families with links to the Hanseatic League, "The Hansa," until Queen Elizabeth expelled foreigners from England during her reign. By the time of this story, they have three hundred years of trade links with Hamburg and the other Baltic ports. There is still a fine example of Hansa building and a trade yard in Kings Lynn, behind a later Georgian fronting.

  The Cottons were descended from a Weasenham branch that needed to marry a son off quickly to a rich heiress in the 1380s to avoid bankruptcy. They chose a girl from the Scots noble family "de Bruc," who included in her family tree a Scottish king, "Robert the Bruce" as we now call him. Tom's father, Sir Robert Cotton, meddled in politics frequently, and sidled up to the new King James when he came down from Scotland to take the English throne. Robert flashed his family tree, added "Bruce" as a middle name and ingratiated himself to the point that King James was later persuaded to call him "Cousin." Apart from a few short stays in the Tower of London, (a time-out zone for many a Privy Councilor) Sir Robert is famous for his Antiquarian Library, which became the one of the seeds of the British Library in 1750s, and inventing his own peculiar Caesarean classification system.

  http://www.npg.org.uk/live/search/portrait.asp?search=ss&sText=cotton&LinkID=mp01052&rNo=0&role=sit

  and a gorgeous one, recently found

  http://www.trin.cam.ac.uk/sdk13/chartwww/miscimages/cotton.gif

  Sir Thomas Cotton stayed out of the limelight and lived out his life at Connington Manor maintaining his father's library and adding to the family collection with contemporary architectural building plans, copies of navigation and colonial maps, and other ephemera, most of which was lost during a fire in the 1730s. There seems to have been an open deal in London where second copies of plans, log books, and anything else "useful" that they could get their hands on ended in the Library. "Fashionist" is a real word, and was first recorded in 1616 in London, then died from use within twenty years.

  Sir Cornelius Vermuyden also "sucked up big time" to King James and King Charles, finally getting into land reclamation for wealthy Englishmen and the crown. Originally from Zeeland, he started as a tax collector in the United Provinces, became a naturalized Englishman in 1626, and persuaded fourteen other Dutch "adventurers" to fund the Bedford Level Corporation scheme. There is a disputed portrait of him in a private collection, but none available online.

  Cornelius' new apprentice, Claes van Rosevelt, in this version of events has been diverted from going later to Nieuw Amsterdam, and buying the famous farm in what is now Midtown Manhattan. The Vermuyden and van Rosevelt families were from the same area in Zeeland, and were friends and business associates. As a Brit I felt had to have one small change in a piece of Americana.

  The fourth earl of Bedford, Francis Russell, did not expect to inherit his title. Some cousins in the main line died in quick succession, and he was landed with diverse estates and the family title. Recorded as a details man in politics, he enjoyed the fussy work of Parliament in 1628/9, and in his projects to make money. He spent most of the 1630s working on the Great Fen project and as a property developer laying out the whole of Covent Garden in London from the Strand to what is now Russell and Bedford Squares.

  http://www.npg.org.uk/live/search/portrait.asp?search=ss&sText=francis+russell&LinkID=mp68238&rNo=0&role=sit

  The Fifth Marquis of Winchester, John Paulet was expected to inherit, but what he got were massive debts in 1628/9. His father died after twenty years of exorbitant dining, pleasures, and entertainments for guests at his home: Basing House, a larger and grander example of a Tudor mansion-style brick building than Hampton Court. John was no politician, and as his was a Roman Catholic family in trouble, decided to retire from court and quietly rebuild his family wealth. He did not appear again at court until 1639 when his second wife Honoura and the queen became friends. He is most famous for a holding action in the English Civil War, where Basing House was under siege by Parliamentarians for over two years. Eventually Cromwell himself had to come and finish the job: not surprisingly winning the day, and had the house flattened to the ground. John and family ended up in the Tower, but after the Restoration the Paulets retrieved all their estates. Lord John Paulet and his second wife Honoura are buried under the new, Victorian St. Marks' church in Englefield. The local post office, and nearby farm shop still sell honey.

  http://www.npg.org.uk/live/search/portrait.asp?LinkID=mp53758&rNo=0&role=sit

  The ruins of Basing House have been a tourist attraction on the road between London and Winchester for three hundred and fifty-odd years. Every year in late August there is a reenactment of the siege, with the "Sealed Knot" regiment on hand to show off Civil War military tactics.

  http://www3.hants.gov.uk/hampshire-museums/basing-house

  Gresham College, located in Bishopsgate, was founded to be the M.I.T. of London in 1597, paid for by the new Stock Exchange and the London Companies and Guilds. It's original charter was to provide public lectures, and apply the new knowledge becoming available from abroad to England in projects that made the city money. It has no students and awards no degrees. They were probably most successful in using mathematics to refine English shipbuilding methods, and improving magnetic compasses, giving rise to the new English trade fleet, and Royal Navy. After the Restoration Gresham College became the founding place of The Royal Society. The college still provides public lectures on science, history, culture, and finance.

  http://www.gresham.ac.uk

  Professor John Greaves, Chair of Geometry (Mathematics) 1631-32 at Gresham College specialized in Arabic Studies; he collected many science books from Turkey, and traveled to Egypt. His was the first modern description of the pyramids' dimensions and astronomical alignments in the mid 1640s. I was never quite sure where Dr Phil's fascination with pyramids came from, as information in the 1630s was almost impossible to find. Maybe he needs to talk to Professor Greaves, and arrange
an expedition get the revised astral alignments needed ten years earlier to get his models to work?

  The English silk makers trials in the first half of the seventeenth century with red mulberry from the Americas failed; those pesky worms still preferred the white variety to everything else. That's also why white mulberry trees are scattered over the east coast of America.

  During the Continental Campaigns, Napoleon was presented with large sugar loaves made with processed sugar from sugar beet. After the Napoleonic Wars ended, Britain (and Portugal) flooded the European market with cane sugar from it's newly extended Caribbean island holdings, killing the price support mechanisms in place on the continent, with the result of holding back major sugar beet processing until the next Franco-Prussian war in the 1870s, and finally expanding worldwide after World War One. Prussia and Silesia continued to make sugar locally on a smaller scale, but at a profit.

  Starting up a pilot sugar extraction and processing facility is going to be very possible, even with a seventeenth-century technology base. The 1911 Encyclopedia Britannica is very specific on each step, and the machinery needed for the method of sugar extraction from sugar beet (typically a cross between wild fodder beet and sea kale, but common beetroot will also do to start). There are only three logistical essentials—plentiful fresh water supplies, a ready supply of rock lime, and lots of wood or coal to heat the water and extract carbonic gasses from the lime. Old Basing village has the first two: the river Lodden passes fifty meters from Basing House, and the modern parish is studded with features like Lychpit Farm, and The Lime Pits Play Area (400 meters from the House). Lord John Paulet also owned Pamber Forest nearby, over five square miles in size. A Paulet family survey of their lands after the Restoration in the 1660s recorded the forest had been neglected for many years and had such poor quality mature timber, and significant underwood that was all only fit for burning. Manpower is not going to be a problem; unlike the continent at war, England is awash with farm laborers with hungry mouths to feed.

  Why bother with homegrown sugar? In Tudor and Stuart times England sourced most of its fine quality sugar from the prisoner island of Madiera, the rest from Amsterdam. Interestingly, there was no sugar or molasses excise tax in England, this would not happen until over 120 years later. The price was set on the Venetian and Amsterdam markets, and tied to the inflation rate of gold. The English prices varied, but in general transportation costs using English merchant ships added around 30% to the Amsterdam wholesale price. (Punishing taxes were laden on cargoes from foreign vessels as a matter of state policy, in place since the 1380s to protect English merchants, and there was a fair amount of "flagging" of ships for much the same reasons we do it today). A general import tariff of around 20% was added when the cargo landed in port, as the product was not English, nor had it come from an English colony. If you had a town house in a port that traded in sugar, and could afford it, you bought it there. If you were in the country or an inland town or city, because of the weight and bulk of sugar loaves or lumps, the price could easily double again.

  Thanks to British Sugar, for rules of thumb for the historic sugar price well before they were formed, and the Guildhall library, and the City Companies' archivists for helping me through the trade journals, and exchange rates.

  Can English sugar make a profit? Well, that's another story for another day.

  The Summer of Our Discontent

  Written by Virginia DeMarce

  Grantville, May 1634

  Susan Logsden sat in the front pew of Grantville's rebuilt Presbyterian church, flanked on one side by Grampa Ben and Grandma Gloria and on the other by her half-sister Pam Hardesty and half-brother Cory Joe Lang. She couldn't stop the tears from flowing down her face as she looked at the twin coffins. "First Grampa Fred died and now Tina has drowned," she said in a low voice. "What am I going to do now?"

  Grampa Ben put his arm around her and held her tightly. "You've still got us and you've got Pam and Cory Joe. Don't worry, darlin'. We'll be here when you need us."

  He looked toward the front of the church. Enoch Wiley would be coming out any minute now to start the service. Susan buried her face in his shoulder and cried. After a few minutes of heartbreaking sobs, an uproar at the back of the church made her look up. The vision that appeared at the doors was appalling.

  "Oh, my God," Pam said. "What does she think she's doing?"

  Ben Hardesty turned to look and his face paled. "How did this happen?" he asked himself. "What did we do wrong? How could she do this?"

  His daughter Velma, Susan, Pam, and Cory Joe's mother, walked down the aisle, tricked out like the "Bride of Satan."

  "Where in the world did she find that much black spandex," Pam wondered. "I wouldn't have thought there was any left in Grantville."

  "There isn't," Ben said. "Looks to me like Velma cornered the market.""

  Susan, heartbroken and bereft, couldn't stop herself. "I'm not going to let her do this. I'm not. I know we're her kids, but I'm not going to let her do this. Grampa, I'm sorry. We can't let her turn Tina and Glenna Sue's funeral into a circus."

  "Susan, honey, just stay right here," Ben said. "I'll take care of it."

  Ben was an old man, heart sore from his granddaughter's death. But he wasn't going to take this from Velma, not this time. As a girl, she had gotten her way too often and she'd never learned how to take no for an answer. Ben had hoped that losing custody of Susan and Tina would have taught her a lesson, but it hadn't. Working at the 250 Club had made her even worse.

  He stood and left the pew, Cory Joe following him. Intercepting Velma who was on her way down the aisle, he grabbed her arm and forced her to turn around and walk back to the door. "Velma, you're not going to do this. I can't believe you'd even try it."

  He practically dragged her out the doors of the church, ignoring her protests. Those protests were loud and somewhat profane. "God damn it," Velma screeched. "How can you throw me out of my own daughter's funeral? Tina was my daughter, you know."

  "She wasn't some kind of toy, Velma," Ben answered. "She'd gotten herself declared an emancipated minor because of the way you've been acting the last few years. Cory Joe and Pam left home the minute they could. The courts gave Fred custody of Susan. This drowning is not an excuse for you to make a show like this. You look like a whore, you're acting like a whore, and you're not going to make this kind of scene. Just go home, Velma. Go home and don't even try to contact us or the kids again."

  She looked at Cory Joe. He moved closer to his grandfather, saying nothing. The two of them turned and went back into the church together.

  Velma stood there, seething. "I'll be damned if they get away with this. I'll show the bastards. I'll show them."

  Inez Wiley, the minister's wife, came out of the sacristy. With one thin hand, muscular from years of playing piano, she grasped Velma's arm firmly, leading her away from the building.

  * * *

  Susan pushed her supper around her plate, hanging onto Cory Joe's arm with her left hand. "So soon? Already?"

  "Tomorrow morning, kid." He swallowed a deviled egg. "Boy, these are good, Aunt Betty."

  Susan, huddled between Cory Joe and Pam, an image of sixteen-year-old miserable hostility, glared across the table at her aunt.

  "Not as good as Grandma Lily's used to be. I use her recipe, too—but there's just something missing." Betty Wilson looked gratified in spite of her protest.

  Snarky, Susan thought. Why did Grandma Gloria have to invite Aunt Betty and Uncle Monroe, anyway? Aunt Betty was always playing "good daughter" to Mom's "bad daughter"—well, "perfect daughter" to Mom's "horrid daughter." And Grandma Gloria always fell for it. Of course, when Grandma invited her, Betty brought something special, that took a lot of time and fussing to make. Like deviled eggs. Just to show how perfect she was. When everyone knew that she really despised Mom. And despised all four of them, because they were Mom's kids. And now Tina was drowned and Aunt Betty was sitting here alive.

  Pam scoo
ped the last two eggs from the platter before Cory Joe could reach across the table for them. He gave her a reproachful look.

  "Well." She sighed dramatically. "Since there's a war on." She slid her plate to him.

  Maybe Aunt Betty was the kind of person who had something inside her that just made her bring those eggs to supper. But did Pam and Cory Joe have to eat them? And like them? And be polite about it all?

  "Do you really have to go already, Cory Joe," Susan chimed in again.

  "First thing in the morning. Jackson let me come because it was my sister's funeral, but Pam's right, even if she was making a joke. There's a war on. If that mess up at the quarry had happened two weeks ago, I couldn't have come at all. Now, after Ahrensbök, it's mainly a matter of mopping up. But I've still got to get back."

  "All the way up to Denmark?"

  "Just as far as Magdeburg. I'm Colonel Jackson's liaison to Don Francisco Nasi, now."

  "Mike Stearns' spook?" Pam giggled. "My brother the baby spook. Like Laurie Koudsi is a baby lawyer. That's what they call her, now that she's passed her exams. Why Magdeburg? Don't you have to go out and spy on somebody?"

  Monroe Wilson, Aunt Betty's husband, frowned. "You shouldn't be talking about this. Intelligence work, I mean. Not even at a family dinner. 'Loose lips sink ships.' I remember that from school. It was a motto in World War II."

  Cory Joe shook his head. "Anybody who wants to can find my name on a personnel list. Nasi doesn't go out scrabbling around his spiderweb in person, any more. He sits in the capital and collects reports from other people. Just another bureaucrat. Think of me as a baby bureaucrat, not a baby spook."

  Susan put her head on his shoulder. "At least, you're not likely to get shot at. But I wish you could stay home."

  "At least, Pam will be staying with you, Susan," Aunt Betty said.