In October 2017, two of my grandparents weren’t born yet. The others were children. My great-grandparents were still very young…at least four of them were still in high school.
So much was happening in the world. World War I was raging, and America had only entered it about six months earlier. My Grandpa Great fought in this war at only 18 years old. I remember him singing, “It’s a long way to Tipperary. It’s a long way to go…” as his thoughts seemed to go back to this time in his life.
Meanwhile, in Russia, a revolution was taking place that would change the world, and not for the better, in my opinion. My sophomore class is reading Animal Farm, and it struck me that these events are now one hundred years old. How different it would all have been if only the provisional government had had a little forethought!
Here are some other highlights from 100 years ago:
Billie Burke, who would later play Glinda the good witch in The Wizard of Oz, was featured in the magazine Photoplay, having recently married Flo Ziegfield. Here she is in a feature story in October 1917:
The Chicago White Sox beat the New York Giants in the seven-game World Series of 1917. Here is a link to clips, or what we used to call footage, of the first game:
How formally everyone dressed, with umpires, coaches, and even spectators in suits, vests, and ties! Though not as lean or as in shape as today’s players, these early all-stars sure did have some raw talent.
Some classic books were published during this time, as well. I think if I had to choose my favorite Anne book, it would be this one published in 1917:
In chapter ten, Anne visits the shore on a cool October evening:
“There had been an autumn storm of wind and rain, lasting for three days. Thunderous had been the crash of billows on the rocks, wild the white spray and spume that flew over the bar, troubled and misty and tempest-torn…now it was over, and the shore lay clean-washed after the storm…” (Montgomery 93-94)
She has a way of putting images and words together to express how I feel. This post is woefully late, but I am publishing it anyway!
In part I of “At the Seashore,” I began exploring references to the seashore in classic literature and looked at the English holiday. I now turn to the seashore as a treatment.
To Treat Tuberculosis (and other diseases)
Sadly, some of the most gifted writers of literature were taken from us too soon and left us with preludes of what they may have written had they lived on even another twenty years. Oh, how I would love to read another Emily Bronte novel or find out who John Keats would have married.
On the other hand, Elizabeth Barrett Browning gave us a great gift in her letters written and received during her battle with consumption (an early term for tuberculosis).
She was forced to leave England when the cold and damp began to affect her daily life. Browning explains in a letter to her friend, written in London in 1852:
“[I have been] coughing in my old way, and it has been without intermission up to now…this climate won’t let me live.”
Robert Browning, concerned about his wife’s health, insisted they move from England to Italy, where they wintered and lived more often than not from that point forward.
Although Elizabeth Browning might have been inspired by living near the sea, she indicates strongly that she and her husband and son likely would have stayed in England or perhaps lived in Paris, had it not been for her lung illness. According to Elizabeth, her husband described Florence, Italy as, “dead and dull and flat”!
Elizabeth Barrett Browning eventually succumbed to the disease in 1861 (nine years later), but she did not seem to agree that a warm climate was recommended as a treatment. I had always wondered why they didn’t live on the southern coast of Italy. Rather, it was a temperate climate that was advised. Studies in the mid-1800’s led many doctors to not be in favor of moist air for the treatment of such diseases.
Health experts at the time assumed that since fewer people seemed to acquire the disease in drier climates, humidity was somehow related to the acquisition and development of consumption or at least the tendency toward developing it. This was not so strange, given that city dwellings were damp and often had mildew or even black mold growing. Still, nasty moldy air hardly compares to salty sea air!
Certain writers ran in the same circles, and family members such as the Bronte siblings did not seem to realize they were contagious to one another, possibly because the symptoms might not present in earnest for years or might not present at all, in some cases. The treatments of this era are as intriguing as the general findings of the disease:
In the early to mid-1800’s, around the time Elizabeth Browning was suffering from tuberculosis, Henry Congreve promoted his patented elixir. In a booklet he used to convince sufferers that his elixir would cure them, he claimed, “colds are often brought on by taking hot liquors previous to going out of a warm room into the air in a cold evening; but generally they arise from an exposure of the body to the atmosphere, when it is heated above its usual temperature; or from a sudden transition from heat to cold” (Consumption Curable).
Congreve insisted that if a cough were not treated early on, it would definitely lead to consumption, the symptoms of which he described as:
“general emaciation, debility, pain in the side or chest, difficulty of breathing on taking the slightest exercise, and a Cough…[and] in its advanced stage a viscid expectoration, with hectic fever…” (Consumption Curable).
He explained that with over 50,000 people dying of tuberculosis each year in England at the time, the purchase of his elixir (containing ten percent alcohol) was the answer for consumption, as well as other lung ailments. He also told his readers:
“A temporary sojournment at the sea-side, for the purpose of inhaling the saline particles, with which the sea breezes are impregnated…will be attended with much advantage, as a means for stimulating the lungs to deeper and more frequent inspiration…” (Consumption Curable 1839 ed.).
Here we clearly see a connection between salt air and the improvement of symptoms in lung patients. Even medical journals and booklets from this same era recommended the sea as a treatment, especially for those who lived in the cold climates of northern England.
Charlotte Bronte watched her own family members waste away, one by one, and was especially tormented by memories of Emily’s last days. Although it was too late for Emily, Charlotte hoped to extend Anne’s life.
Anne Bronte, in a letter to her friend Ellen Nussey, claimed:
“The doctors say that change of air or removal to a better climate would hardly ever fail of success in consumptive cases if the remedy be taken t is generally deferred until it is too late (The Brontes: Life and Letters: Volume 2, 39).”
Anne’s choice was Scarborough, located in northeastern England, where she had often accompanied the family she worked for (as a governess) on their holidays. Perhaps it was of Scarborough Anne was thinking when her well-known character Agnes Grey was made to proclaim:
” no language can describe the effect of the deep, clear azure of the sky and ocean…the unspeakable purity and freshness of the air! (Agnes Grey, 1847 ed.)”
Anne, Charlotte, and even close friend Ellen made the journey to Scarborough, and Anne was able to see her beloved sea again. Unfortunately, she could not breathe well, even in the climate upon which her hopes were set, and she passed away within the month.
According to a book written by Dr. Edward Smith and published in 1865, the average high temperature during this time of year at Scarborough was around 70 degrees Fahrenheit, indicating a somewhat temperate climate (Consumption 218).
By the late 1800’s, Koch had discovered the bacteria that caused tuberculosis, and the world seemed to have discovered not only the health benefits, but also the mental benefits of a trip to the seashore.
Sea-bathing at resorts could now be reached by railroads, and all sorts of ailments were purported as being helped by a trip to the shore, everything from skin disorders to asthma.
Suddenly, it was dipping into the cold water and then rubbing down with a brisk towel afterward or taking a Turkish or Russian bath or even taking a “sand” bath that seemed to be the newest fad! They focused on the cold, the extremes, and the wind, believing that a good disturbance to the system was always beneficial.
Symptoms of depression were supposedly “shocked” by the cold waters of the English sea, which afterward gave the sufferer a kind of reboot and lifted his or her spirits. Many today still believe in the benefits of this type of therapy.
Soon, even songs proclaimed, “By the sea, by the sea, by the beautiful sea…” as America joined her European sister in yearly visits to the shore. In part 3, I will explore how and why writers were inspired to write and create near the seaside.
One of my favorite all-time movies, Young at Heart (1954, produced by Gordon Douglas), revolves around the Tuttle sisters, Fran, Laurie, and Amy, in their search for love.
The three girls do find love, but in three very different ways in this remake of an earlier movie and based off of a book by Fannie Hurst. Aunt Jessie (Ethel Barrymore) is the girls’ surrogate mother and resident cook, housekeeper, and psychologist, using her influence to subtly guide the three girls into marriages with the man most suited for each.
Ethel Barrymore gives a convincing performance as the down-to-earth aunt who seems to be the least in the household, but who actually wields the power.
Charming, happy-go-lucky Alex (Gig Young) the perfect “catch,” a successful Broadway composer who compliments this musically-talented family, pursues Laurie (Doris Day), while each of the three girls falls for him in her own way. Gig Young recognizes and states that “a lot depends on Aunt Jessie.”
Just as Alex claims Laurie as his pick, along comes his old pal Barney (Frank Sinatra), a brilliant musician who is drifting through life. Barney thinks he knows Aunt Jessie’s type, and, although not charming, Barney gains Aunt Jessie’s approval because he is honest and forthright. He wants to know what type of aunt she is, and she tells him she is the “you-can’t-hide-a-thing-from-me type.”
Barney proves to be a challenge for Laurie, for he seems to not know how or care to flirt. He tells her that his masterpiece, a song he has been writing, has no beginning and no ending and that the “fates” won’t let him have a good life. She points out his incredible talent and encourages him to finish the song.
Barney and Aunt Jessie understand each other and share a sarcastic wit and keen insight into human nature. They are the only two who notice Amy’s broken heart. As Barney (Sinatra) croons “Someone to Watch over Me,” Laurie shows the least self-awareness while she is drawn to both protecting this new drifter and sacrificing herself for her sister Amy, not realizing that she can really do neither.
Without giving away the ending, I think this movie has as much of a twist as a romance of this era can have. Laurie must choose between an easy life with Gig Young’s character, who is much like her, or a struggling marriage with Frank’s character, who is her pessimistic opposite.
According to Doris Day, Frank Sinatra insisted that the ending of the movie be changed from its original, and the producer gave the star his way (Doris Day: Her Own Story). Years later, when Old Blue Eyes sang the all-familiar words, “I did it my-y-y way,” he meant it!
It is Ethel Barrymore who is the real star of this movie, upstaging even three superstars of the era and creating a character so believable, it is clear that the actress and her character both share a deep understanding of people. Frank Sinatra as Barney profoundly states, “Sometimes when you’re on the outside looking in, you can see things that no one else notices.”
Doris Day remembers the movie in her book Doris Day: Her Own Story. Day states that Barrymore was “fragile” and nearing the end of her life when the movie was being filmed, spending most of her time in a wheelchair. Yet, when called to a scene, she “was able to produce that special kind of grandeur that was the hallmark of the Barrymores” (149).
Ethel Barrymore was perhaps a little too elegant and a little too polished for the role of Aunt Jessie, but it could be that she wanted to show the wisdom and strength of all types of women–not just the young and beautiful, but also the matron aunts, the elderly, and the wheelchair-bound. May we all realize that we are valuable and have something to contribute to those around us.
The major themes of this film are not hard to decipher. Love may not come into your life or develop as you expect, and the greatest love is found in a life lived for others.
I will be taking part in a blogathon found at: In the Good Old Days of Classic Hollywood as I review Young at Heart starring the brilliant Ethel Barrymore, a young Doris Day, and Frank Sinatra. Even in movies, I am drawn to the Byronic hero, and love the way the Frank Sinatra character is portrayed. Enough of that, as I will save it for the article.
In the meantime, I have acquired a nice library of old Hollywood biographies. Perhaps I will do a give-a-way soon. Hmmm…
Here is a pile of books I am currently reading. The red book is a very quirky read about traveling in Paris, with odd reviews of hotels, restaurants, and other tourist-y places.
I will also be posting the second part of my article on the draw of the seashore in the 1800’s.
School is starting for my facility this week. Each day will find me teaching and prepping for Language Arts 800, English I, English II, English III, English IV, and some elective courses. Whew! I could use another visit to the seashore myself. I am looking forward to introducing The Shepherd of the Hills to my 8th grade students and will reveal how it is connected to the Ozarks and why boys love this book so much in another article.
In the meantime, I need to sit back and re-watch one of my very favorite old movies: Young at Heart (also starring Gig Young, who was pretty hot back in the day)!
Vacationing on the Florida Gulf Coast, the spray of waves and foam at my feet, the salt and sand coating everything, the little sand pipers scurrying away from the water, and the slower way of life, brings to mind stories and memoirs of the seashore (which seemed to be the general term for it in the 1800’s) in classic literature.
A visit to the ocean must have required much more effort in a time when carriages, wagons, steamships, and trains were the main modes of travel.
Yet, “to the seashore” many did go in the 1800’s and early 1900’s, and from what I have read, primarily for the following reasons: 1) To have a “holiday” 2) to treat tuberculosis or other lung diseases 3) to be inspired (to write or paint or express themselves artistically) and 4) to live permanently in another country
As these things often go, I planned to write this as a single article, but after researching and thinking, I quickly realized this would need to be at least a two-, if not a three-part article. Here, I will look at the first reason proper English citizens flocked to the seashore:
To Have a Holiday
A “holiday” in classic literature often points to a one- to three-month stay at a seaside resort or a country house. This likely helped to make the longer and arduous trip more worthwhile.
The ultimate book, for me, about having a holiday is The Enchanted April by Elizabeth von Arnim. It all begins with a little classifieds ad in a newspaper offering a castle “for rent” in the Italian riviera. Four women agree to share the costs of renting the place for the summer.
Mrs. Wilkins, most of all, is transformed by the new environment. This meek wife (and mother), with seemingly mild depression, now blossoms:
“Her face was bathed in light. Lovely scents came up to the window and caressed her. A tiny breeze gently lifted her hair… It was as though she could hardly stay inside herself, it was as though she were too small to hold so much of joy…”
Von Arnim has a way of expressing what we introverts need and how a place such as the seashore can inspire us. She understands that we crave and need space to think and roam, nature to inspire and give color, creative outlets to give us purpose, and time to make all of the above happen.
Lady Caroline seems to represent best the introvert’s need for space and time alone. She thinks to herself:
“The garden on the top of the wall was a delicious garden, but its situation made it insecure and exposed to interruptions. At any moment the others might come and want to use it…It was essential to her comfort that she should be able to be apart, left alone, not talked to.”
I turn next to a short story, A Drama on the Seashore, by Honore de Balzac, not necessarily for its iconic place in literature, but because it gives us the male point of view in taking a holiday, one often missing, as the husbands and sons and uncles typically stay in the cities to continue conducting business and making money. Sometimes, in stories, they appear on weekends, or sometimes they are old enough or rich enough that they go along, but rarely are they the protagonist in these scenarios.
In de Balzac’s story, the narrator stares at the sea:
“Standing on a rock, some hundred fathoms above the ocean, the waves of which were breaking on the reef below, I surveyed my future, filling it with books, as an engineer or builder traces on vacant ground a palace or a fort…ah! Who would not have floated on the future as I did!”
De Balzac uses masculine imagery to show us how the sea inspires his main character to look optimistically to the future and causes him to feel as if nothing is unattainable.
English travelers sometimes stayed closer to home, with plenty of coastline from which to choose.
According to Richard Jeffries, Brighton (located on the southern shores) was a common destination in England for “sea bathers” to play on the shore, wade, and swim. He describes a mid-day scene in his book The Open Air, published in 1885. Girls wore “bathing dresses,” in hues of pinks, lavenders, and creams (only their ankles were bared to the sun), while older men loitered and younger men goggled:
“Humming and strumming, and singing and smoking, splashing, and sparkling; a buzz of voices and booming of sea! If they could only be happy like this always!”
Shown above are sea bathing “machines,” used to transport ladies into the ocean and give them privacy. See this article at janeaustensworld to learn more about this English convention used by early sea-goers.
Another popular destination for sea lovers, Margate (a suburb of Dover) drew vacationers as far back as the late 1700’s. In a children’s book At the Seaside, by Mrs. Warner-Sleigh, a boy and girl pack up for a month-long stay at Margate as a reward for good grades at the end of the school year.
Sand-castle-building, shelling, wading, and riding in a goat-pulled cart are activities enjoyed by the children at Margate.
Northern cities in England were thronged by working-class visitors, despite the poor weather and great waves of the region’s beaches.
In his book Afoot in England, W. H. Hudson describes a visit to the area of Norfolk in August. It must have been a particularly cold August:
“The wind blew with a fury from the sea; it was hard to walk against it. The people in hundreds waited in their dull apartments for a lull, and when it came, and when it came they poured out like hungry sheep from the fold, or like children from a school…then in a little while, a new menacing blackness would come up out of the sea, and by and by a fresh storm of wind would send people scuttling back into shelter” (Afoot in England 59).
Hudson describes how this goes on “day after day,” as the throngs go back and forth from their rented rooms to the beach. He seems to have some insight as to the penchant we have for the sea, even if it is a violent, dark sea:
“In such weather, especially on the naked desolate coast, exposed to the fury of the winds, one marvels at our modern craze for the sea; not merely to come and gaze upon and listen to it, to renew our youth in its salt, exhilarating waters and to lie in delicious idleness…but to be always…close to it” (60).
Hudson suggests that this need for the sea is a result of living in “dirty, overcrowded cities.”
Near to the public resort is a sea village patronized by the affluent, and Hudson notes that they are “without their lords,” with a ratio of 3 to 1 of women to men (not counting children), something I have noticed over and over in extant texts from classic literature.
Just like today, the coasts up and down England, north and south, filled with sea towns, resorts, spas, and sleepy villages awoke as visitors came to “have a holiday.”
We just returned from the funeral of my 17-year-old nephew. As I cannot express it all adequately, I turn to greater writers, two of the most honest and raw:
Pain has an element of blank;
It cannot recollect
When it began, or if there were
A day when it was not
King David knew the pain of losing a child:
3 For my days vanish like smoke; my bones burn like glowing embers. 4 My heart is blighted and withered like grass; I forget to eat my food. 5 In my distress I groan aloud and am reduced to skin and bones. 6 I am like a desert owl, like an owl among the ruins. 7 I lie awake; I have become like a bird alone on a roof.
(Psalm 102, Bible NIV)
Yet, in the midst of it, my sister-in-law and brother-in-law have hope.
Psalm 102 ends with this: “The children of your servants will live in Your Presence…” (Psalm 102:28 NIV).
While working outside the other evening, I heard the unmistakable sound of a Bob White. Bob-Bob-White he called over and over. The sound transported me to my childhood in Iowa, where I would answer the bird-call and exult in his calling back to me again and again.
Americans have had an obsession with birds since Audubon first determined to find, in person, all North American birds and draw or paint them. The copper-plated engraving process, both expensive and time-consuming, created a soft, rich, nostalgic effect, as did lithography, which took the place of the copper technique.
Here, we see not only the beauty of Audubon’s hand-painted work, but also of the engraving, identifying the birds, done by his printer Havell. Note the plate number at the top, right-hand corner.
[An up-close, high-resolution download and more information can be found at Audubon.org.]
My first introduction to naturalists(as in those who study animals and plants in their natural habitats) came subconsciously through writers such as Louisa May Alcott. After years of teaching and reading about Alcott, I now better understand that Alcott was influenced by her father’s background and involvement in the transcendentalist movement.
Jo’s parenting methods in her home for boys (LittleMen) allows for each boy to explore and grow in his own unique gifts and talents as an “individual”. As a teacher at a home for boys, I relate to all the types of “treasures” boys might bring home, including the following from my own experiences: sticks, strings, weeds, seeds, feathers, stones, fossils, lizards, snakes, and even a freshly-shot turkey (he had a license and it was in-season, but still!). In Little Men, several of the boys create a naturalist museum brimming with all sorts of specimens, including:
“A snake’s skin, a big wasp’s nest, a birch-bark canoe, a string of birds’ eggs, wreaths of gray moss from the South, and a bunch of cotton-pods” (Louisa May Alcott, Little Men).
Audubon stuffed his home at Mill Grove, Kentucky, with similar collections, according to his own journals published by his daughter in 1897. As a way to become better known, he visited naturalist museums all over the country and tried to contribute his work to them if they allowed him to. In the process, he learned from others how to improve his methods and market himself.
He painstakingly drew and re-drew birds and found a way to color them by hand:
“February  was spent in drawing birds strenuously, and I thought I had improved much by applying coats of water-color under the pastels” (Maria R. Audubon, Audubon and his Journals,Volume I).
Here is a drawing/painting which he completed that same year:
Like Audubon, Gene Stratton-Porter shared a passion for birds, as well as other creatures of the forest, but described them, rather than drew them, in her fictional works such as Girl of theLimberlost and non-fiction articles for magazines such as McCall’s.Rich with imagery, her writing shows us her beloved home in The Song of the Cardinal:
“Every hollow tree homes its colony of bats. Snakes sun on the bushes. The water folk leave trails of shining ripples in their wake as they cross the lagoons. Turtles waddle clumsily from the logs. Frogs take graceful leaps from pool to pool.”
Books, magazines, journals, calendars, and illustrations from this period of literature were ripe with nature and depicted it in its most realistic forms, perhaps due most to the efforts of naturalists of the 19th and 20th centuries. It seemed to be a calling for Audubon, Gene Stratton-Porter, and others such as Chester A. Reed.
I quite love this illustration of bob whites from The Bird Book, by Reed and published in 1915 by Doubleday. Unfortunately, this talented artist and naturalist passed away of pneumonia in 1912.
He claims that the bob whites “frequent open fields” and build their nests “along roadsides.” That explains why I heard their call so often growing up. Open fields surrounded our house, and grass-covered ditches provided the habitat these plump birds need to propagate.
Reed also had a passion for photography, filling the pages of this beautiful book with photos of eggs, as well as appealing graphics and sketches on every page.
It is apparent that this was meant to be a resource for those who came across eggs, nests, or the birds themselves and wanted to identify them. But, had he lived in the 21st century, he might have been a graphic artist!
I try to remind myself when I watch old movies or read books with black-and-white photos that people viewed the world in color, just as we do now. They noticed the varying shades of green of the soft grasses, the yellow reeds, and the deep-emerald swallows. They, too, knew the white-blue of a summer sky and the cold-purple blue of a lake in the fall.
Perhaps this is the very reason Audubon’s works were so popular. For the bird world is a world of color. He knew this and wanted others to see what he noticed and not just in the grays of a sketch, however well done it might have been.
Thanks to the naturalists who left us records in photos, sketches, paintings, writings, and journals, we have a picture of the world as it was and in their eyes.
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