What did Sir Walter and King George III have in common? What is the proper form of address for Lady Dalrymple? Why is Miss Carteret not Miss Dalrymple? Learn the answers to these questions and more in this episode of My Cousin Jane.
Welcome back to My Cousin Jane. Today we’re going to be talking about Persuasion, Volume 2, Chapter 4, aka Chapter 16, depending on the edition of the book you’re reading.
In this chapter, we have some exciting visitors moving to Bath, but before we discuss the Dalrymples, I want to talk about what Sir Walter has to say about the use of Gowland to help with one’s complexion.
Gowland’s Lotion
Let’s listen to this clip, courtesy of Karen Savage from LibriVox.org, where Sir Walter is giving some skin care advice to his daughter, Anne:
In the course of the same morning, Anne and her father chancing to be alone together, he began to compliment her on her improved looks; he thought her “less thin in her person, in her cheeks; her skin, her complexion, greatly improved; clearer, fresher. Had she been using any thing in particular?” “No, nothing.” “Merely Gowland,” he supposed. “No, nothing at all.” “Ha! he was surprised at that;” and added, “certainly you cannot do better than to continue as you are; you cannot be better than well; or I should recommend Gowland, the constant use of Gowland, during the spring months. Mrs Clay has been using it at my recommendation, and you see what it has done for her. You see how it has carried away her freckles.”
If Elizabeth could but have heard this! Such personal praise might have struck her, especially as it did not appear to Anne that the freckles were at all lessened. Persuasion, Chapter 16
In the academic journal Age, Culture, Humanities, June Oh from Michigan State University writes in depth about Gowland’s lotion.
People living in the Regency era were quite as obsessed with fad diets and various varieties of health tonics as much of Western culture is today. George Cheyne was a physician who lived in the late 1700s, and had popularized the idea of “a green old age,” which primarily involved reducing the amount of meat and alcohol you consumed in the hopes that you could make it into your 70s or 80s.
Cheyne himself made it to about 71 before he died, most likely because he decided to become a vegetarian later in life. This was due to his having a tendency to overeat in public, causing him to suffer from obesity most of his life. Though as Ms. Oh points out in her article, one of Cheyne’s most famous statements was, “In spite of all we can do, Time and Age will fix and stiffen our Solids.” Meaning, no matter what we do, eventually, we’re going to die.
Cheyne’s popularity came largely from the fact that his teachings merged science and mysticism and appealed to people’s vanity. This was a trend that was popular at the time, especially in the area of anti-aging and beauty treatments.
The goal of these treatments was, of course, to “restore one’s bloom.” What exactly that means is hard to nail down. You read about the bloom of youth in lots of places in Austen’s works, as well as those of other Regency writers, but even people living in the Regency era had trouble defining it.
In her article on Gowland’s lotion, Ms. Oh quotes a 1789 text called The Art of Preserving Beauty, and in that text it says the fact that bloom, beauty, and health are connected is:
an incontrovertible maxim, that beauty can never exist without perfect health; a healthful constitution … is the very ground-work of beauty The Art of Preserving Beauty (1789), quoted in June Oh, “Aging Faces and Gowland’s Lotion in Austen’s Persuasion”, Age, Culture, Humanities (2021)
Again, no one could define what bloom was. It was one of those things where people thought, you’ll know it if you see it.
In the late 1700s, a man named John Gowland invented a lotion that promised to restore one’s bloom. It also promised to work as an effective treatment against dry skin, freckles, “eruptions” (which we would call acne), coarseness, paleness, redness, shingles, and even scurvy.
It sold for the rather high price at the time of 10 shillings, 6 pence per quart, which is roughly 40 pounds or $50 in today’s money, though this seemed like a bargain for those who wanted the lotion to help restore the bloom of their youth.
Unfortunately, it also contained high quantities of arsenic, mercury, and lead, so prolonged daily use tended to cause health problems that undoubtedly would affect one’s bloom.
It’s interesting to see how, over 200 years later, Western society is still willing to spend enormous amounts of money on cure-all substances that claim to be based on science, but which are often ineffective or even harmful, just like Gowland’s lotion.
King George’s Madness
Gowland’s lotion was so famous that John Gowland was appointed to be the royal apothecary to King George III in 1760, until Gowland died in 1776.
What’s interesting about that is that King George III started to suffer from severe mental health disorders around the same time. His deteriorating mental condition would eventually lead to Parliament discussing appointing a regent in his place, a cause in which Earl Camden, whom we discussed last week, was involved. King George eventually recovered, at least long enough for the Regency crisis to be abated.
A 2005 study of the King’s hair samples showed high concentrations of arsenic, which some scientists think may have triggered his mental illnesses, which did return again just before he died.
Given that John Gowland was the royal apothecary at the time, is it possible that King George’s mental illnesses were caused by the arsenic, mercury, and lead in Gowland’s lotion? We may never know.
Titles of Address
The big news in this chapter is the arrival of Lady Dalrymple. Let’s listen to this clip about that:
The Bath paper one morning announced the arrival of the Dowager Viscountess Dalrymple, and her daughter, the Honourable Miss Carteret; and all the comfort of No. —, Camden Place, was swept away for many days; for the Dalrymples (in Anne’s opinion, most unfortunately) were cousins of the Elliots; and the agony was how to introduce themselves properly.
Anne had never seen her father and sister before in contact with nobility, and she must acknowledge herself disappointed. She had hoped better things from their high ideas of their own situation in life, and was reduced to form a wish which she had never foreseen; a wish that they had more pride; for “our cousins Lady Dalrymple and Miss Carteret;” “our cousins, the Dalrymples,” sounded in her ears all day long. Persuasion, Chapter 16
We discussed the difference between royalty, nobility, and other titled folks way back in episode one, so if you need a refresher on the Regency ranking system, go back and listen to that episode. What I want to talk about today is how these new visitors were addressed. Titles of rank had associated forms of address that went with them, and sometimes it appears as if they’re used rather haphazardly. However, there’s a system—a method to the madness.
There are a lot of official resources to go to if you want to understand Regency ranks and titles, and you can also find a variety of resources created by various writers and fans of the Regency era. The widely acknowledged go-to resource for this information is Laura Ann Wallace’s website, which has an in-depth resource on the subject of titles of address for peerage ranks. It goes into great detail on the different rights and honors of the different types of titles, how they are inherited, and how they were stylized in both written and verbal form.
It’s a lot more detail than we have time to discuss in this episode. After listening to this summary, check out that site if you want to learn more. Again, it’s Laura Ann Wallace’s website.
Let’s take the Dalrymples as our example. The Lady Dalrymple was the widow of a Viscount. He would have been referred to as the Right Honorable the Viscount Dalrymple, or the Viscount Dalrymple, less formally. You could address him in writing as “My Lord,” or in speech as Lord Dalrymple. You could speak about him to other people as the Lord Dalrymple, or just plain Dalrymple, if you were being informal.
His wife and children would have been given what are called “courtesy titles.” The Right Honorable the Viscountess Dalrymple would have been his wife’s formal title. She would have been addressed in writing as “Madam,” in speech as Lady Dalrymple, and spoken about to other people as the Lady Dalrymple, or just Lady Dalrymple, though her close acquaintances would probably call her by her given name.
That’s the distinction between how men and women were addressed. In fact, women couldn’t hold peerage titles on their own, or what was called “in their own right,” until much later on.
This is why you see the phrase “right honourable” used a few times in this chapter when referring to the Dalrymples, because that was their formal courtesy title of address, for both the Viscountess and her late husband.
A Viscountess’s daughters were addressed by Miss, plus their surname, such as Lady Dalrymple’s daughter, Miss Carteret.
One thing to note about titles of nobility is they were often associated with a location rather than the last name of the recipient. For example, we talked about Charles Pratt, and he was the 1st Earl Camden. Even though his last name wasn’t Camden, he was called Earl Camden.
We know from the fact that Lady Dalrymple’s daughter is referred to as Miss Carteret that Dalrymple is also a title of location, and that the late Viscount’s surname was probably Carteret. If Miss Carteret were to marry someone of a higher rank, such as an Earl or Duke, she would receive the courtesy title associated with her husband’s title. If she were to marry someone of a lower rank, she would keep her own courtesy title.
Lords and Ladies
Most of the everyday addresses for men of rank was Lord. The exception was for knights and baronets, as we mentioned in episode one, who were the lower class of the gentility, and they would be addressed as Sir. Ladies of all ranks are generally addressed as Lady.
Lady Elliot, Lady Dalrymple, and Lady Lucas from Pride and Prejudice all have the same form of address, but are all very different ranks. Lady Elliot was the wife of a baronet, Lady Dalrymple was the wife of a viscount, and Lady Lucas was the wife of a knight.
To confuse matters a bit further, often someone will hold multiple titles, and they can inherit certain titles from both sides of their family, and those titles are mixed together and then sequenced in an order based on importance. Sometimes this can get fairly extensive.
For example, in our time, we have Prince Charles, who is simultaneously known as Prince of Wales, Duke of Cornwall, Duke of Rothesay, Duke of Edinburgh, Earl of Chester, Earl of Carrick, Earl of Merioneth, Baron of Renfrew, Baron Greenwich, Lord of the Isles, and Prince and Great Steward of Scotland, in that order.
Notice here the difference between Baron of Renfrew and Baron Greenwich. Some titles used “of” between the title and the name, such as Baron of Renfrew or Earl of Chester, while others did not, such as Baron Greenwich or Earl Camden. Even though Earl Camden, we know, was not the title holder’s last name, whether or not the word “of” was used between the title and the name was just a matter of tradition for that particular title.
Once again, if you want to know more about peerage titles and ranks and the honors associated with them, and how they were passed on from parent to child, go look at Laura Ann Wallace’s website, who has a ton of information about that.
Conclusion
That wraps up this episode of My Cousin Jane. As always, if you enjoy the show and would like to help support us, please consider clicking the little donate button or subscribing to our newsletter. Either way, thanks so much for listening.
