Top Five Ways Historical Writers Go Wrong

Writing any book is tough enough, but stepping back in time to create characters from previous centuries presents a yawning trap for today's writers. As an author myself, I struggle with anachronisms -- for instance, I only recently learned that the term "grandfather clock" wasn't in common use until the late 1800s -- after an 1876 song called "My Grandfather's Clock" became popular. Before that, they were called "longcase clocks.")

But it isn't just material goods that create problems for historical writers. Here are the top five ways we all tend to get it wrong:

Using modern speech. We’re so used to our ordinary way of talking that modern expressions often slip into our characters’ dialogue and thoughts. While expressions like “Get a grip” and “I haven’t got a clue” are pretty obvious, others aren’t quite so easy to weed out. Like the nineteenth-century character who tells his grandson, “I don’t like the people you’re hanging around with.” Or the narrator of a novel set in 1066 who says, “They took off into the woods.” Or the Regency heroine who says the hero has derailed her train of thought – before trains and rails were commonplace. Or a hero from the 1820s who says, “I didn’t come here to be analyzed like some patient in a mental asylum” – 70 years before Sigmund Freud developed psychoanalysis. A more subtle (but still disconcerting) example is the heroine who says to the hero, “You think everything is all about you, Your Grace.” 

Including modern attitudes. Far too often in romance fiction, people who were supposedly born and reared in the 1300s or the 1500s or the 1800s think and talk and behave as though they just stepped out of Starbucks holding a latte. It’s true that in order to appeal to today’s reader, main characters tend to be more modern in outlook than their real life peers would have been. But when characters don’t even stop and think about it before they spout today’s perspectives on things like religion, lifestyles and women’s rights, or when they display today’s understanding of psychology, hygiene, nutrition, and medicine, it’s tough to make the reader believe they’re real.

Messing up titles. The most common error when it comes to using aristocratic titles is using the wrong form of address, or using multiple forms of address for the same person. Lady Sarah Winchester isn’t the same person as Lady Winchester is. (Lady Sarah is the daughter of a peer, Lady Winchester is Lord Winchester’s wife.) Lord Winchester isn’t the same person as Lord Randolph Winchester. (Lord Randolph Winchester is the younger son of a duke or a marquess, Lord Winchester is the big cheese himself.) Sir James Smythe is always Sir James, not Sir Smythe. When the author doesn’t realize there’s a big difference between variations which seem so small, it’s easy to dismiss the story entirely.

 Not understanding the rules of inheritance. In the eras most commonly used in historical fiction, illegitimate sons could not inherit titles – period. Oldest sons could not be bypassed in favor of younger ones. Daughters could not pass along titles, except for a very few cases by royal decree. Most often, all the land and money was left to the eldest son. I remember an author who made her heroine a duchess… but not by having her marry a duke, which would be the only way for her to achieve that rank. Instead, this heroine got her title because her grandmother, who was the previous duchess, abdicated and bypassed her daughter in favor of her granddaughter. That’s at least three kinds of impossible.

Just plain getting it wrong. Why bother to look it up when we can make it up? It’s tempting to assume that our vague recollection of the timeline is accurate, or figure that if some other historical author used it, we don’t need to check for ourselves.

A few prize-winning examples: The Regency hero and heroine who honeymooned on an ocean liner – decades before ocean travel started to be comfortable. The maid who says to her mistress, “It’s chilly; you should wear your wool kid gloves” – they can’t be both wool and leather. The hero and heroine who run away from a London ball to Gretna Green, arriving there early the next morning – but traveling 320 miles took at least 36 hours in those days. A Regency hero and heroine who get married at St. George’s Cathedral – St. George’s Hanover Square is a simple parish church, not a cathedral.

This trap yawns equally wide for authors writing in other historical periods. Take a Viking romance which refers to potatoes – five centuries before they were introduced to Europe. Or a story set in 1949 where the narrator says, “He passed out after we hit the interstate” – years before the interstate highway system was even proposed.

Some of these things sound pretty obvious when we look at them in a list. But beware – they can sneak up and attack us when we’re not paying attention.

This blog was first posted on Sitting on the Porch with Kelly, hosted by author Kelly Abell. 

Splitting Heirs

Under the aristocratic system of primogeniture, followed almost religiously during the Regency period, the eldest son is the heir. He gets the title, the fortune, and the land. 

But what if there isn’t an eldest son?

If a title-holder has no legitimate children, or has only daughters, then the lot goes to the nearest male relative of the title-holder. The next in line would be the title-holder’s next-younger brother, and then his sons (if he has any). If the younger brother has no children or only daughters, the title descends to the next brother in the original family, and then to his sons.

An eldest son is known as the heir apparent, because no matter what happens, if he outlives his father he will inherit. Because no one can come between him and the title, he is the apparent – obvious – heir.

If there is no oldest son, then whoever stands next in line is known as the heir presumptive. Since the title-holder could still sire a son (no matter how unlikely that might be), the heir presumptive could still be pushed out of the line of succession. So he’s presumed – but not guaranteed – to be the heir.

If the title-holder dies without a surviving son, but his widow is pregnant, then everything comes to a halt until the baby is born. If it’s a boy, he will hold the title from the moment of his birth. But if it’s a girl, then the next heir in the male line wins the jackpot.

I used this scenario in my Regency novel, Gentleman in Waiting – where the entire family is gathered, waiting to see whether Lady Abingdon’s child will be a boy or a girl...

* * * * *

Everything depends on the baby…

Lady Mariah Gerrard anxiously awaits the birth of her stepmother’s child, desperately hoping for a boy who will inherit their father’s title so Mariah can gain access to her dowry and her freedom. Her father’s cousin John, the next heir in line, has other plans – so if the baby is a girl, disaster looms for Mariah.

When Myles Moreton comes to Edgeworth to manage the family estate, Mariah’s no longer certain that even the birth of a boy will solve her problems. Why is money missing? Why is Mariah’s dowry in doubt?  Despite his genial façade, is Cousin John planning mischief – or worse? Why is Myles Moreton, rather than the late earl’s trustees, suddenly in control? And how can Myles -- a man who’s entirely ineligible -- be not only completely maddening but utterly charming and very, very tempting?

As the family gathers to await the birth, Mariah and Myles search for answers – and they find that playing the waiting game can have its own rewards.

Buy links for Gentleman in Waiting

Baronets and their ladies

Bridging the gap between the peerage (dukes, marquesses, earls, viscounts, and barons, along with their families) and commoners (pretty much everybody else) are the baronets.

Like a knight, a baronet is addressed as Sir Firstname Lastname, or more familiarly, Sir Firstname. (He is not called Sir Lastname, and never Lord Lastname). His wife is referred to as Lady Lastname.

Unlike a knighthood, a baronetcy is hereditary, with the eldest son succeeding to the title upon the death of his father. At that time, if the new baronet is married, his wife becomes Lady Lastname, while his mother's form of address changes to Firstname, Lady Lastname.

A very few modern day baronetcies have been created for women, and a small handful of baronetcies can be inherited by women or through the female line. These women are referred to as Dame Firstname Lastname or Dame Firstname (but never Dame Lastname).

Welcome to Greystone Manor!

Welcome!


Above is the view which greets the visitor just inside the front door of Greystone Manor. That's the back door you can see; the front door would be behind you. Off to the right through the french doors is the living room. Yes, those are two tiny sets of armor perched along the stair railing -- and if you look closely, you'll see that the center of each wooden tread is worn from the traffic of the family running up and down. The intricate molding on the stairs was created with one tiny toothpick-sized piece of wood at a time, by my husband the master builder. (That's his thumb below, showing the scale of the wood, before the walnut stain and finish were applied.)  The rug is counted cross stitch on aida cloth. 

Barons & Baronesses

Barons are the fifth and lowest level of the British peerage, coming right below viscounts. Barons may well be the oldest of the ranks, with the titles of earls and marquesses and viscounts originating after barons were already well established. Frequently an earl or marquess or viscount is also a baron, and the lesser title is often the one used by a titled gentleman's eldest son as a courtesy. Often -- but not always -- the baron's title is directly derived from the family name, so that if Henry Smith were to be named a baron, he might be Baron Smith.

He would be addressed as Lord Smith or my lord, and his wife would be Lady Smith (but -- oddly -- not my lady.) The baron's children are known as The Honorable Firstname Lastname.

In modern times, there are a few women who have been named baronesses in their own right, for service to the crown. Former Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, for instance, is Baroness Thatcher -- most often referred to as Margaret, Lady Thatcher.

(Lady Margaret Thatcher would be a different individual entirely -- the daughter of a high-ranking nobleman, rather than a peeress in her own right.)

Little Things Mean a Lot

Last night I had the joy of sharing my love of miniatures with a friend. As I watched her tour through my miniature house (the equivalent of a 3,500 square foot Georgian), I remembered the fun of building and furnishing it, and going from this:

to this:

As a child, I had dolls but no dollhouse. This house -- it's called Greystone Manor -- is anything but a toy, but I can relive a bit of childhood as I play with it.

In future weeks, I'll share more views of rooms and furnishings. Or you can get a sneak peek on my website:

http://www.leighmichaels.home.mchsi.com/leigh's%20house.htm 

Marquess Madness

Second in aristocratic rank to a duke is a marquess (occasionally marquis), and often the oldest son of a duke is known as the Marquess of Something because that's one of his father's lesser titles. But a marquess can also hold the title in his own right; in history when earls have provided great service to the sovereign they're often rewarded with a higher title -- sometimes they're made a marquess, and sometimes they're jumped all the way up to being a duke.

The wife of a Marquess is a Marchioness. Their eldest son uses one of his father's lesser titles as a courtesy, so the son of a marquess is sometimes an earl -- but one without personal power.

A Marquess is addressed as My Lord, or Your Lordship, and if he's the Marquess of Sheridan he's referred to as Lord Sheridan.

The younger sons of a marquess are -- like the sons of dukes -- known as Lord Firstname Lastname, and all the daughters of a marquess are Lady Firstname Lastname. They can be referred to in person as Lord Firstname or Lady Firstname.

Sir What's His Name

Nothing says "lack of research" faster than getting the titles wrong in a historical set in England. When a hero is referred to as Lord John Smythe one minute and as Lord Smythe the next, or he's Sir John Smythe sometimes and Sir Smythe at other times, or the heroine is Lady Jane Reynolds at one time and Lady Reynolds at another -- well, the only thing certain is that the writer didn't check her facts, and that always makes me wonder what else she got wrong, too.

If you're trying to figure out the aristocracy, reading the Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries by Dorothy L. Sayers makes a good start, and it's a fun pastime as well. I'll use her fictional family, the Denvers, as an example in talking about the families and titles held by dukes. (We'll take up earls, marquesses, viscounts, and barons some other day.)

Dukes are the highest and most exclusive aristocratic rank, and are outclassed only by royalty. Sons and brothers of the monarch were -- and are -- often named as royal dukes.

Sayers' duke is the Duke of Denver; his wife is the Duchess of Denver. Though the family name is Wimsey, the duke and duchess seldom, if ever, use it.

The oldest son of a duke -- his heir presumptive -- uses one of his father's secondary titles. The Duke of Denver's son is Viscount St. George. But that title gives him no power; it's a courtesy only, setting the heir apart from the younger children.

The duke's younger sons are known as Lord Firstname Lastname. Again, this is a courtesy title and there's no power -- no seat in the House of Lords, for instance -- to go with it. This is why Sayers' detective, who's a brother to the Duke of Denver, is Lord Peter Wimsey. As the son of the previous duke, he uses the family name as a part of his honorary title. But he's not Lord Wimsey; he can be referred to as Lord Peter. When he marries, his wife isn't Lady Wimsey -- she's Lady Peter Wimsey.

The daughters of a duke are Lady Firstname Lastname (Lady Mary Wimsey is the duke's younger sister). When she marries she keeps her title, even if she assumes her husband's name -- so when Lady Mary marries a detective who has no title at all, she becomes Lady Mary Parker (but never Lady Parker).

To go back to the original examples, Lord John Smythe would be the son of a titled gentleman but not a lord in his own right. He has essentially no powers; it's an honorary title only -- while Lord Smythe's title is entirely his own. Sir John Smythe would be a baronet (more about them later) but Sir Smythe doesn't exist at all. And the only way Lady Jane Reynolds and Lady Reynolds can be the same person is if she's Lady Jane because her father had a high title and Lady Reynolds because she married Lord Reynolds -- and even then she's apt to prefer one title or the other.

Next time we'll take up Earls!

Laws of Inheritance

Many a younger child thinks that the eldest in the family is the favorite and believes that the first-born gets special privileges. In the 19th century, in England, the eldest son may or may not have been the favorite child, but he was certainly the favored one. The system was called primogeniture -- which means first-born -- and it was set up largely to preserve property rights in an era when land was the main source of income and wealth.

The reasoning went like this: The relatively small islands which comprise the United Kingdom had been fully settled for hundreds of years, with all the land claimed. By 1800, there was no room left for expansion, no new acres to be claimed and developed. If  a man's property was divided between several sons at the time of his death, then each of them had less land to till or to rent -- and therefore a lower income. If each of those sons also had several sons, and so on, within a very few generations each individual would be reduced to a tiny parcel, inadequate to maintain a family.

The system of primogeniture means that the oldest son (first-born daughters were bypassed by their younger brothers) inherited the vast majority of his father's holdings, while younger sons had to find other ways to make a living.  During the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the second son often went into the armed services while a third son took orders in the church.

In the western hemisphere, the situation was much different. President Thomas Jefferson had just purchased more than five million acres from France in the Louisiana Purchase, which would eventually become all or part of 15 of the United States. With plenty of space for expansion and settlement, primogeniture never became the standard in the United States.

In England the rise of manufacturing meant that land was no longer the main repository of wealth. Families could make their livings from other sources than agriculture, and gradually primogeniture died out -- except for royalty and the aristocracy, where it remains in effect. The eldest son is the heir apparent, inheriting his father's title and most of his property.

Even there, however, modern sensibilities have created changes. When Queen Elizabeth's third child -- Prince Andrew -- was born in 1960, he moved ahead of his older sister Anne in the line of succession. In 2011, however, new legislation provided for succession of the British crown to follow a strict line of birth order. That means that if the first child born to Prince William and Kate Middleton is a girl, she'll be the queen someday -- even if she has half a dozen younger brothers.