Wednesday, March 13, 2019

Episode 2: Adventurer, Amber Elby, and Apocalypse

Episode 2: Adventurer, Amber Elby, and Apocalypse

In this episode, I tell the complex and unbelievable survival tale of Temperence Flowerdew, Lady Yeardley (1590?-1628) followed by an enchanting interview with Amber Elby, the author of Double, Double, Toil. My guest also graciously agrees to play Walking Dead: Shakespeare Edition.


The following podcast contains adult language and themes.  Listener discretion is advised.

Welcome to the Literature Lady Podcast! I’m Dr. Janet Bartholomew. This podcast is dedicated to telling the stories of badass women in history and literature.

Today’s episode was a bear to put together, but I’m excited to tell you a tale of a woman who survived the most incredible list of hardships.  However, I also hoped to bring a new dimension to her story by adding information that tends to be left out of the history books. Part one focuses on her incredible tale of fortitude.  The second part features an interview with the author of the Netherfeld Trilogy, and in the third part I ask her to tell me which Shakespeare characters she’d like to see on a zombie apocalypse team.  Ready? Let’s do this.

Part One: Some Females are Strong as Hell

When Temperance Flowerdew stepped onto Tsenacomoco soil in 1609, she had no idea what the heck she was walking into. The story of an idyllic land overflowing with food and riches occupied by some simple savages was complete and total crap. The Powhatans of Tsenacomoco were anything but simple. And that land overflowing with food and riches? Welp...that may have bit of an exaggeration too.

You see, the Virginia Company had invested interest in putting the New World’s best foot forward to attract men, and later women, to join their expeditions and colonies.  Additionally, books such as Thomas Hariot’s 1590 A Briefe and True Report of the New Found Land of Virginia painted America as a land overflowing with edible plants, plenty of game, and copious riches. We know that later around 1609 the Virginia Company pushed an advertising campaign seeking “adventurers” - which may have been what had enticed Temperance Flowerdew’s husband, Richard Barrow, to sign them up as colonizers. Or at least, some think he was her husband at that time. Many scholars think she was married to George Yeardley instead. Or not. <sigh>

Like many discover when trying to research early modern women’s history, sometimes extant documents are incomplete or even contradictory, leaving modern scholars to make their most educated guesses. It isn’t clear Temperance was married to Richard Barrow at all, as there are conflicting accounts of Temperance Flowerdew’s life. What’s more, some records suggest that she was born closer to 1587 than 1590, making her older when she came to what is now Jamestown, Virginia. Others speculate that she may have been younger. Some claim that she was already married in 1609 to George Yeardley, but others say she married him later, after her first marriage, around 1618. We aren’t even exactly sure of the precise year of her arrival. One book I looked at has her arriving in the new world in 1608 on the Falcon, but naval records state that the Falcon was in England at that time. If she did come to the new world, she may have been on the Sea Venture, the same ship that Sir George Yeardley arrived on, or she may have been on another ship in the 1609 “Third Supply” such as the Falcon, not yet married to Yeardley, or perhaps she was just journeying separately from her husband. It is all very confusing.

Anyway, at the end of this podcast, I will give you a list of sources that I used in writing this, and you can decide for yourself what dates might be the most plausible. What we do know is that Temperance Flowerdew was from an elite family in England, and her great-uncle was Edward Flowerdew, Baron of the Exchequer, and her extended family had ties to the Elizabethan court through the infamous Robert Dudley, Queen Elizabeth’s favorite courtier.  Temperance’s family had other interests in the Jamestown colony, as both her nephew and brother being involved in its business. Of course, Fort James or Jamestown, Virginia was the English name for the location where she landed. The actual name of the nation she walked into in 1609 was Tsenacomoco.

Unlike what the promotional brochures might have led Temperance to believe, Tsenacomoco was a developed nation consisting of roughly 32 allied chiefdoms, covering about 6,000 square miles or 15,500 square km. Scholars guess that anywhere from 13,000 to 30,000 men, women, and children lived within its borders. They had a well structured government and a robust trade system in place. Just like in Europe, the leaders of Tsenacomoco used marriage as a way of unifying powerful families and ensuring peace. The empire was relatively stable and prosperous. Although a drought had hit the area before Temperance Flowerdew arrived, the citizens of Tsenacomoco had advanced foraging, hunting, farming, fishing, and food preservation techniques, making it possible to preserve large quantities of food for the winter and lean times.

Each chiefdom was ruled by its own chief, but all were united under one paramount chief, who would listen to the council of his chiefs before making big decisions. Like the vast majority of nations, Tsenacomoco used scouts to patrol their borders and gather intelligence; news traveled fast within its realm. The paramount chief himself moved from city to city throughout his territory, promoting peace and goodwill between his chiefs and checking on his citizens, who paid him tribute, sort of like a tax, for his leadership and protection. When he traveled, he would be escorted by an elite group of 50 bodyguards. These were the strongest and toughest men in Tsenacomoco.  No fewer than four were stationed outside his lodgings at any given time. He was not only well guarded but very well respected within his nation. You simply did NOT mess with this powerful guy.

Unless, of course, you had the arrogance of a white colonizer.  When Temperance Flowerdew stepped off her boat in what is now Jamestown, Virginia, unbeknownst to her, she was stepping into the aftermath.

You see, John Smith and others really fucked things up with the Algonquin-speaking natives of Tsenacomoco and had especially screwed things up with their leader, Powhatan. Yes, that Powhatan, Pocahontas’ dad, but unlike many of the whitewashed accounts we read about Powhatan, the real story about this paramount chief of Tscenacomo is more complicated, which is why I felt the need to dive back into the historical record and revisit this story.  What I found should not come as much of a surprise:

To put it bluntly, Smith and his English pals were pretty big assholes.

When the first English colonizers had arrived in Tscenacomoco and set up camp upon their shore, the Algonquin responded like any nation would to invaders: they defended their territory by sneaking in the English camp and took out their leader before fleeing, hoping that the colonizers would lose heart and leave. As the days continued, the colonizers continued to push into the interior of Tscenacomoco, finding and eating recently gathered foods they found abandoned by natives as they fled. Locals, of course, began to fight back when encountering these strange looking men who were sneaking into their fields and hunting grounds.

A few days later it finally dawned on Smith to actually try approaching the locals IN A NON CREEPY WAY with his hand raised in friendship. Only then did some open communication with the locals begin. The party was taken to the chief, who welcomed them with great ceremony and feasting.  Smith gave some beads as a gift for their hospitality. By June of 1607, Powhatan had sent an invitation to the English colonizers to set up a colony and farm the land (the land selected by the settlers, however, was swampy with brackish waters...not the best area for farming). It should come as no surprise that by September, however, the English ran out of provisions but survived thanks to the generosity of the locals who provided food.  

Now, in the colonist’s defense, many may have thought that America was a land of plenty where food acquisition wouldn’t be a problem, thus why they didn’t plan very far ahead.  Another problem in 1607 that led to the colony’s running out of food was that the English started falling victim to a disease that killed nearly half of the men by the end of the summer.  With so many ill and dead, hunting and farming wasn’t successful enough to build up a food store for the winter. If it wasn’t for the generosity of the local chief Opechancanough and his people, Smith and the others would have starved.

It wouldn’t be until December that John Smith would meet Powhatan face to face. Smith was brought to see him, and he was greeted with great pomp and feasting. This was when the infamous “attempted execution” of John Smith took place...you know, the one where Pocahontas ran in and saved Smith from her father.  But did this really happen?

You see, Smith actually tells this story a couple of different ways. In a letter published in 1608 A True Relation of Such Occurrences and Accidents of Note, as Hath Hapned at Virginia, since the First Planting of that Collony by John Smith, he only mentions that he met with Powhatan, feasted with him and had an intense conversation. However, in his later General History of Virginia, published in 1624, that we get the story about his head being put between two stones with a looming warrior set to smite him. If the story is true, scholars think that it was most likely a ritual in which Powhatan was “adopting” Smith into his nation, hoping to make him one of his sub-chiefs.

We aren’t too sure why Powhatan decided to do this. Some scholars suggest that Powhatan was hoping to creating a strong alliance in the hopes of getting access to cannons and more firearms, which was definitely something that was being negotiated for. After rereading the documents, I am getting the sense that perhaps it was as much as strategy as it was generosity. Smith and his men probably looked pretty pathetic to the Powhatans. Here were these white guys who arrived on their land, without having a clue how to farm, forage, or hunt properly for local game. In battle, they were super clumsy. The Powhatans, you see, were very skilled in combat, and their weapons were faster and easier to wield than what the guns and cannon English brought.  Guns were cumbersome and took forever to load, so they probably looked very incompetent as they just knelt there to load their firearms. Not only did these white guys not know how things operated, but they were also dirty and half-starved. They didn’t pack enough food for their journey, and their hygiene was atrocious (as was most of Europe’s at the time) compared to the locals’ daily habit of bathing. Maybe Powhatan felt sorry for them, like a suffering group of refugees, and as the superior nation, generously granted them asylum. He even offered Smith a role in the local government. Could a starving, struggling group from another nation hope for anything more?

When it comes to white colonizers, the answer, unfortunately, is usually yes. Smith turned down the offer to become a part of the Tsenacomoco nation, citing that he was already loyal to the English crown. Instead, he tried to do the OPPOSITE.

This is where things really fell apart, which is what Temperance Flowerdew walked into.

By 1608, things were not going well for Smith. For one, Captain Newport and his men held Smith responsible for the death of two Englishmen who were killed in a raid. It wouldn’t be the first time Smith was almost killed by his own people. When he arrived in America in 1607 on the Susan Constant, captained by Newport, he was in chains and sentenced to hang...basically for being an asshole. He clashed with Newport and a number of others, and eventually was accused of trying to usurp the authority of the Captain. Smith only escaped execution after a few men convinced Newport to rescind his order.  

Smith was a cocky hothead by some accounts. As the son of a simple farmer, Smith’s confidence and arrogance pissed off many people around him. By the age of 21, he fought the Turks in Hungary, where he decapitated Turkish officers (for which he was proud and bragged about later).  He was then captured and sold as a slave, and was only able to escape after killing his own master. By 1604 he returned to England, with not only experience in combat under his belt but also in sailing. His survival skills impressed the Virginia Company, who hired him on as a leader for the new colony. His fellow colonizers didn’t like this at all. For one, he was young and arrogant, but he was also a crass commoner having been given equal footing as his social betters.

So when he managed to make it back to what would become Jamestown in 1608, after had been taken by the Algonquin natives in a raid that left two men dead, it was no surprise that the council of Jamestown were happy to demote and hang him. You know what saved Smith this time?  Dumb luck. It turned out that the first supply ship with Captain Newport arrived from England the very day Smith was to be hanged, and the excitement of the supplies and new men made them forget about the hanging and Smith lived to see another day.

When Smith and Newport led a party to see Powhatan in the February of 1608, they were greeted with an incredible feast. Newport arguably saw Powhatan as a fellow leader, but Smith couldn’t get past his viewing Powhatan as a “savage.”  While this particular visit went okay, Smith’s attitude and refusal to abide by Algonquin customs did not make the friendship easy. For instance, Smith refused to lay down his arms when visiting the paramount chief. It was not only a threat to Powhatan’s security, but also an insult that Smith and the others continued to act as though he were an enemy, for AS ANY SANE PERSON KNOWS, friends don’t pack heat when visiting friends.  

The other problem was that Powhatan had traded several bushels of food in exchange for metal tools, but Smith and the others never delivered them. History books paint the subsequent visit by Powhatan’s men to the Jamestown settlement as a raid, but the reality is that they came to collect what was owed to them, taking only the supplies promised.

Later in 1608, Smith and Newport attempted to smooth things over with Powhatan by “crowning” him king in a coronation ceremony. This was all kinds of messed up. For one, in order to do this ceremony, they wanted Powhatan to come to Jamestown. This was the equivalent of some random dude sailing up to England and demanding the Queen Mother to meet him at the dock. It just wasn’t gonna happen. When this plan failed and Powhatan declined Smith’s invitation, they brought the ceremony to Powhatan. When they did, it did not go well. Not only did the settlers refuse to lay down their arms...again…but the English custom for a coronation required the king to kneel to be crowned. Chiefs were the rulers, and Powhatan was the chief above all other chiefs.  You do not ask a man like that to kneel in front of you. It was always the other way around.

Needless to say, it did not go well at all. By the winter of 1608, Powhatan had ordered his people to stop trading with the colonists, starting the early phase of what would later be known as the First Anglo-Powhatan War.  Smith tried to renegotiate for food with Powhatan in early 1609, but once again he refused to lay down his arms in the presence of the chief, and so it was to no avail. Powhatan had had enough, and even tried to kill Smith, but the wily dude narrowly escaped.  

When the third supply mission from England arrived that summer in Jamestown, it was a mixed blessing for the colonists. On one hand, more men and women meant there would be more help in building up the fortifications as well as the gardens.  However, it also meant more mouths to feed. This supply run was the biggest yet, with nine ships having left London with somewhere between 500 to 600 passengers on board, including Temperance Flowerdew, a young 19 year old colonist. And there was another problem:

Two of the nine ships were missing.

The fleet had hit a hurricane when 7 weeks out to sea, which separated the ships. The seven ships that made it to Jamestown didn’t all make it back at the same time, the Virginia slinking back as late as six weeks after the others, which meant it arrived with depleted supplies. The supplies were also not evenly distributed among the ships, and with the largest flagship, the Sea Venture, missing, so were the largest chunk of supplies. The Catch, the other ship that never made it to Jamestown, had sunk, taking with her all her passengers and much needed cargo.

By the time the winter of 1609 hit, John Smith was already back in England on one of the returning vessels. He left, however, not because he was ousted by his men, nor was it to leave Jamestown in the hands of better negotiators with Tsenacomoco. Nope. He went back because he was injured. Badly. By his own damn gun powder pouch. Which he accidentally caught on fire. While he was wearing it. Because, as we all know here in the states, guns are totally safe to have around. (I’m rolling my eyes here, people.)

Anywho, a stray spark lit the pouch, which made it explode, which caught his freaking clothes on fire and damn near blew his leg off. As a cold, dirty, isolated colony was not place to heal up, Smith went back to England for treatment, leaving the colonists alone for what would be the deadliest winter ever, known now as The Starving Time.

Temperance Flowerdew, at this point, had survived two months at sea and three days in a hurricane. The colony was nothing that the Virginia Company had described. In a flyer advertising for colonists in 1609, they promised that every colonizer would have “houses to dwell in, with gardens and orchards, and also food and clothing” in addition to “lands to them and their heirs forever.”  It promised that all Adventurers who signed up would be “furnished with all means and provisions necessary” to make it in the new world and extend the English empire.

However, upon arriving at the colony, the multitude of structures promised were just not there; there were some buildings, but Fort James had accidentally burned down that January which made the men scramble to rebuild a defensible structure rather than a plethora of new winter-ready cabins.  Not only was housing a problem, but so were the lack of supplies. With the Catch sunk and the Sea Venture still missing, many supplies did not make it to the colony. The passengers of the Virginia had depleted much of their stores having been thrown off course for a month and a half. The land of plenty was not as hospitable as reports led them to believe, and Temperance, along with about 500 colonists, settled into a winter for which they did not have enough food or protection from the cold.

With Captain John Smith gone back to England and Captain Christopher Newport lost at sea along with the missing Sea Venture, Jamestown was left in the incompetent hands of Captain John Ratcliffe. As the winter progressed, Temperance watched the people around her get sick, starve, and die.

Ratcliffe tried to negotiate for more food with the Powhatans, but the relationship between the colonists and the locals was at an all time low, and he was brutally killed. The fact that the colonists were resorting to stealing food from the locals didn’t help any attempted negotiations.

As the winter of 1609 turned into the early months of 1610, Temperance and the others did what they could to survive. While stories of cannibalism circulated after the Starving Time in the news about the colony, it wasn’t verified until the remains of a skeleton of a 14 year old girl was unearthed by Jamestown archaeologists, bearing the scraping marks of tools normally found on the bones of butchered animals. We also know from these trash pits that colonists ate rats, their cats, and just about anything they could find that was edible. One early account of the Starving Time included a man who murdered his pregnant wife, cut out the fetus to discard, cut up her body, and salted it for food.

Those who dared to leave the settlement to hunt did not always come back. As the numbers continued to dwindle and the population weakened with starvation and illness, more buildings became empty, and since gathering firewood in Powhatan territory was no longer safe, structures were torn apart and used for fuel. Temperance, however, was one tough lady. While we don’t know if she ate the dead to survive, there is no doubt that she ate a number of unsavory things.  Her tenacity paid off in the end. Out of the original 500 colonists, she was one of the 60 who survived. A little more than 90% of the colony had died.

In May of 1610, almost a year after the Sea Venture had gone missing, the occupants of the missing ship suddenly showed up in Jamestown. The Sea Venture had taken on water during the hurricane when it became separated from the other ships, and with its brand new caulk failing, the captain decided to run the ship aground in Bermuda to save its occupants and what it could of the supplies. The passengers wintered there on the island, using parts of the large ship to create two new smaller ones. They ended up using most of the supplies to survive, so by the time they made their way up the East coast to where Jamestown was settled, not much of the original cargo remained. Luckily, a new shipment of supplies arrived from England just as Temperance and the others were abandoning the settlement.

Now under martial law, the colony kept going. Temperence remained strong, and together with her other colonists, she managed to tough out several more years at Jamestown. The First Anglo-Powhatan included many atrocities committed by the English, and while life was brutal for the colonists, what they did to the Powhatans would be considered war crimes today.

George Percy, one of the colonists fighting the Powhatans, recalled the following attack on a nearby village, where they killed several warriors, and captured one of the chief’s wives and children:

my Lieftenantt bringeinge with him the Quene and her Children and one Indyann prisoners for the which I taxed him becawse he had Spared them. his answer was, thatt haveinge them now in my Custodie I mighte doe with them whatt I pleased. Upon the same I cawsed the Indians heade to be Cutt of, and then dispersed my fyles apointeinge my Sowldiers to burne their howses and to Cutt downe their Corne groweinge aboutt the Towne. And after we marched with the quene and her Children to our Boates ageine. Where beinge noe soener well shipped my sowldiers did begin to murmur becawse the queen and her Children weare spared. So upon the same a Cowncell beinge called itt was agreed upon to putt the children to deathe the which was effected by Throweinge them overboard and shoteinge owtt their Braynes in the water. Yett for all this Crewellty the Sowldiers weare nott well pleased and I had mutche to doe To save the quenes lyfe for thatt Tyme.

The queen would later be executed at point-blank range.  The English would continue to burn village after village, purposefully desecrating graves and defacing temples, killing men, women, and children as they went. The Powhatan would retaliate, and so it went back and forth until the kidnapping of the newly married Pocahontas in 1613 by the English. By 1614, an alliance between the English and Powhatan was made, and further solidified by Pocahontas’ marriage to John Rolfe.  

With the war now over, Temperance Flowerdew could focus on building a new life.

She married George Yeardley, one of the survivors of the Sea Venture, in 1618.  He was appointed governor by the Virginia Company, and empowered to do two things in the Great Charter given to him that would change America forever: set up the first Indian school and provide slaves and indentured servants, as well as land, to officers. This was also the year he was knighted by King James I, making Temperance Flowerdew, Lady Yeardley. Yeardley was also given a land grant for 1,000 acres (about 4km²), which would become known as the Flowerdew Hundred.  

We still have the deed for this, by the way.  It just so happens to be the oldest land deed in the United States. These are the years Temperance and her husband thrived. At least thirty people lived and worked at the Flowerdew Hundred, and the tobacco they grew made Temperance and her family a LOT of money. It was also the site of the first windmill in English America.

Temperance’s story is hard to track, as she is a marginal note in these documents written by and for men, but even harder to track were the names of the people who helped make Temperance so prosperous: the enslaved men, women and children who worked on the plantation.

There is so much scholarship needed to be done on the histories of those who came to America on slave ships. I tried to find out as much as I could about those upon whose backs Temperance and her second husband built their wealth. We know Sir Yeardley purchased slaves in 1619, after a Portuguese ship sailing from São Paulo de Luanda, in what is now the country of Angola, was attacked by privateers and had their cargo stolen. Fifteen of the first twenty five Africans were purchased by Sir Yeardley and Abraham Piersey, who would become the next owner of the Flowerdew Hundred. Scholars think that these early Africans were possibly Ndongo, because São Paulo de Luanda was near the Congo River, where the European colonizers took advantage of the fighting with locals and captured these men and women. Like all slave ships, the conditions were horrible, and these twenty five were survivors of a ship that started with 350 slaves, of which only 147 survived the crossing from Africa to the Americas.

In researching the names of these first African slaves in Jamestown, it became abundantly clear what a white privilege it is to know your own family’s history here in America.  Like many Americans, I am an international “mutt” from several families that originated throughout Europe, but for most of my life we didn’t know our ancestry byond about five or six generations, apart from some rumors of famous ancestors that had been passed down through the family.  When my brother married into a family of genealogists, however, within a year or so our family’s heritage could be traced back through the written record all the way to the 8th century.

For millions of people of color, however, this simply would not be possible due to the institutionalized racism that dehumanized non-whites and kept their names out of the written records.  In order to try to find the names of these Jamestown slaves, I searched Jamestown musters, a kind of census, starting with the 1622 and then 1624 records, but I couldn’t find the names of these Flowerdew Hundred Africans. Instead, on the 1624 muster, right after the Flowerdew Hundred changed hands from Yeardley to Piersey, four “Negro Men” and two “Negro Women,” one with a child were listed as servants. None of them were given proper names, their only identifying markers being their race and sex.  (The early records didn’t have a category for slaves, so all servants, from hired to indentured to slaves, were all listed under the same category.)

One source figured out the names of four of these African men based on the 1623 muster.  Their names were Anthony, William, John, and another Anthony. No last names or even ship of origin was mentioned, even though these were given for nearly all of the white settlers. As part of the “processing” of slaves, when captured Africans were baptized en masse and given Christian names.  Whether the names or the religion stuck, however, was an entirely different matter. While four of these men were able to be identified as they were tagged with the moniker “Negro,” the other Africans were either not given names on the muster at all or were listed by their Christian names, making them indistinguishable from white servants on the list. We know, however, that more than four Africans were there, and I think it is important to discuss this part of the colonization process, as the names and numbers of Africans in America are often overlooked in the history books. Slave names usually only appear later in our textbooks when slavery was happening on a much larger scale, but even then, only a very small handful of names are given.

As the lady of the estate, Temperance would have overseen quite a lot of the activity at the Flowerdew Hundred while there, helping her husband direct the many workers on her plantation; records indicate that she played an active role in the financial part of the business, indicating not only a strength of will but also intellect.  It was through the labor of these tradesmen and African slaves that her tobacco crops and livestock did well enough to earn her and her family a large income. Many ships went from Jamestown to England, and every bushel of slave-harvested tobacco went to line her pockets. It was during this time Temperance gave birth to two children: Elizabeth in 1615 and Argoll in 1617.

However, her few years of tentative peace and prosperity, albeit on the backs of her workers, would come to an end. The paramount chief Powhatan died around 1618, leaving his brothers in charge. In 1620, Temperance had her third child, a baby named Francis. By 1621, Opechancanough was the paramount chief, and unlike his older brother, he did not see the English as helpful allies. The white settlements had grown in number and continued to push into their lands. Additionally, more settlers kept coming, and with them came more diseases and potential for violence.  

What’s more, the English continued to offend the people of Tsenacomoco with their aggressive campaign to convert the locals to Christianity. This effort was spearheaded by George Thorpe, who came to the colony in 1620 with the purpose of converting the natives. He supported cultural genocide, even expressed an interest in kidnapping Tsenacomoco children and raising them in England for the good of their souls. While Thorpe tried to maintain good relations with Opechancanough for conversion purposes, Thorpe’s Christian zealousness and attempts to poach the loyalty of the Powhatan people did not ingratiate the settlers to the new chief.

On March 22, 1622, Temperance’s day began just like any other.  She rose from her bed and began her morning routine, looking after the kids, giving her servants and slaves and instructions for the day.  She was most likely staying at their Jamestown city home then and not at their plantation; just a few days prior, Temperance had signed John Rolfe’s will as a witness, and with her husband Sir Yeardley acting as governor, it would make sense that the family would be staying in the more densely populated town at this time.

The Flowerdew Hundred, by the way, was not like the wide open plantations we see today in the American South. Rather, it was an enclosed, fortified structure with several buildings within its protective walls. It was not quite a fort, but it was definitely more than a fenced-in compound. Like most plantations during this time, a number of people, both Powhatans and colonists, would be coming and going throughout the day. While tensions were mounting with the Powhatans, there was still a regular amount of trade between the two. Her residence in Jamestown was

On this day, a number of Powhatans came into the settlements, visiting trading partners and chatting up new ones.  The brought furs, food, and other goods to trade. No one thought anything of it. Then suddenly, some kind of signal was given, and these visitors began killing as many English as they could. Across the entire colony, more than 30 English settlements were ambushed in this way, and within a span of a few hours roughly 347 colonists were killed, which was one third of the colony.  This was the start of the Second Anglo-Powhatan war.

Somehow, however, the Flowerdew Hundred lost very few in this attack. Only six men were killed.  Temperance, her husband, and children also somehow survived. In the 1625 muster, the Yeardleys had multiple properties and African slaves, with three African men and five African women serving at their house in Jamestown proper and the four African men, two African women, and her child out at the Flowerdew Hundred. Like the plantation, her household in town also had many additional servants and hired help.

The effect the 1622 Massacre would have on the colonists was not what the Powhatan intended.  Instead of scaring them back to England, it braced their resolve to stay.

This meant war.

The Second Anglo-Powhatan war that followed the 1622 attack on Jamestown was brutal.  The colonists focused their efforts on attacking the weaker outlying Powhatan communities, especially when their corn crop was ripe for the taking. The settlers also worked on forming alliances with chiefdoms just outside of Tsenacomoco, as this put pressure on the Powhatan chiefs to be more diplomatic with the English or risk further wars. The atrocities went both ways as the Powhatan fought to take back their lands and the English fought back to keep them.  

In 1623, the English invited delegates from Tsenacomoco over for a truce, but ended up poisoning their drinks and executing the Powhatans. The English then cut off their scalps, a practice that would later be monetized by the English in the 1670s as a way to incentivise the further killing of natives.

The battle of 1624 may have been the worst, the English destroying such large swaths of cornfields that it devastated the Powhatans. Records indicate that it was enough to feed 4,000 people for a year. The Second Anglo-Powhatan War continued for many years, but the English knew they were outnumbered and kept on the defensive. Most of the attacks spearheaded by the English focused on stealing food and burning Powhatan settlements.

Despite all the bloodshed, Temperance and her family survived these dangerous years. She even made yet another dangerous voyage to England with her husband and then back to Jamestown in 1625.

When Sir Yeardley died in 1627, Temperance inherited the entire household in Jamestown. The rest of his investments, including the Flowerdew Hundred, were to be sold as the will stipulated, with Temperance inheriting a third of it. As a shrewd businesswoman, Temperance not only sold these properties for a hefty sum, but she also went after those who had outstanding debt with her late husband. By the time she married Governor Francis West in 1628, she was arguably one of the wealthiest women, if not the wealthiest, in English America.  

She died in 1628 at the age of 38 years old.  While she didn’t leave behind any writing by the way of letters or journals, her signature appears on documents and she is mentioned by others in their writing about the settlement. Her story is intertwined with many others who are undoubtedly more well known and discussed in detail in the historic record, as well as many others whose history was completely and deliberately erased.

Temperance Flowerdew was a survivor. She survived at least 3 harrowing voyages between England and America and even a freaking hurricane while out at sea. She then survived the Starving Time, somehow outliving 90% of her colony. And if that wasn’t enough, she survived the First Anglo-Powhatan War. But then again, she also survived the Massacre of 1622 that killed a third of her colony.  She then survived a full ten years of the Second Anglo-Powhatan War.

We aren’t sure exactly where her grave is located, many assume it is in the Jamestown Church graveyard, but as of last year, we now know where her husband, Sir George Yeardley, was buried, thanks to archaeologists working on excavating the original church structure.  And thanks to a grant recently awarded to The Digital Archaeological Archive of Comparative Slavery, materials relating to the Flowerdew Hundred will be digitized and made public, in addition to documents related to another 80 slavery sites along the Atlantic and Caribbean, which will help researchers find more information about the first Africans brought here by the Europeans.

While the story of Temperance Flowerdew’s survival may not have inspired many, the story of the Sea Venture, the missing ship in her 1609 fleet that shipwrecked in Bermuda carrying her husband Sir George Yeardley, did inspire one particular author whose work inspires many to this day. You may have heard of it. It was the little play known as...The Tempest.

PART 2 AND 3 OF THE TRANSCRIPT IS COMING...PLEASE CHECK BACK SOON!

This has been the Literature Lady Podcast. Thank you for listening. You can follow me on Twitter @Literature_Lady or email me at literatureladyonline@gmail.com. Our music, the anonymously written “My Lady Carey’s Dompe” from 1524, was beautifully performed by Jon Sayles. I have a website now, although it is still in its early stages.  A full transcript for this podcast along with the bibliography will be posted on literatureladypodcast.blogspot.com.

If you would like to listen to the sources I used for this podcast, please stay tuned.

I confess that this particular story was one hell of a ride.  There was so much I wanted to include but had to cut. I used John Smith’s 1608 A True relation of such occurrences and accidents of note, as hath hapned at Virginia, since the first planting of that Collony.  I also read from George Percy’s “Observations gathered out of a Discourse of the Plantation of the Southerne Colonie in Virginia” found in Samuel Purchas’ 1625 Hakluytus Posthumus.  I also mentioned the Virginia Company of London’s 1609 tract called For The Plantation in Virginia.  R.F. Walker’s transcription of the “Lists of the Livinge and Dead in Virginia, February 16th, 1623” and “The List of Those Massacred March 22,1622” in his Colonial Records of Virginia were helpful.

I am greatly indebted to Encyclopedia Virginia, a massive online collection of articles, images, and primary texts found at encyclopediavirginia.org. I’m especially thankful for Martha McCartney’s entry on John Smith, Margaret Williamson Huber’s writing on Powhatan, and John Salmon’s work on Tsenacomoco and Christopher Newport.

Numerous articles also helped me with this article, such as Avery Kolb’s essay “Early Passengers to Virginia: When Did They Really Arrive?” that appeared in the Virginia Magazine of History and Biography, as well as James Southall’s article “Concerning George Yardley and Temperance Flowerdew: A Synopsis and Review.”  I am also grateful to James Deetz whose article “Archeology at Flowerdew Hundred” appeared in I, Too, Am America: Archaeological Studies of African-American Life and edited by Theresa A. Singleton.

James Deetz’s book, Flowerdew Hundred: The Archaeology of a Virginia Plantation, 1619-1864 was a riveting read and invaluable find.  Virginia Bernhard’s A Tale of Two Colonies: What Really Happened in Virginia and Bermuda? was another great source.  I couldn’t put down Helen Roundtree’s The Powhatan Indians of Virginia: Their Traditional Culture, which helped me unpack some of the colonists’ stories in a new light.

For more on the discovery of “Jane,” the cannibal victim of Jamestown, please visit www.historicjamestowne.org.  Be sure to check out the CNN article on the discovery of George Yeardley’s remains just last year by Jamestown archeologists.

My biggest thanks, however, has to go out to the Royal Shakespeare Company.  If I hadn’t been digging around on your website and stumbled across your entry on the sources that inspired Shakespeare’s Tempest, I would have never have followed the threads that led me to Temperance Flowerdew. Keep up the great work.

Thank you again for listening to the Literature Lady Podcast.  This is Dr. Janet Bartholomew, signing off until next month! Talk to you soon!

Friday, March 8, 2019

Episode 1: Love, Loss, and Lines

Published on Feb 11, 2019
In this episode, I tell you the amazing true love story of Lucy and Colonel John Hutchinson (1620–1681) followed by the love affair between Laudomia Forteguerri (1515–1555) and Margaret of Austria (1522-1586). I then try out some Shakespeare pick up lines on Professor Harpy, a professor of literature.


TRANSCRIPT:

The following podcast contains some adult language and themes. Listener discretion is advised. 

Welcome to the Literature Lady Podcast! I’m Dr. Janet Bartholomew. This podcast is dedicated to telling the stories of badass women in history and literature. 

Today’s episode focuses on women’s love and desire, both hetero and lesbian, in the early modern period and is broken up into three parts. These are stories of some badass ladies in history that you may have never heard about. The first tale takes place in England. The second tale takes us to the Republic of Siena, now in the Tuscany region of Italy, where a woman named finds a passionate yet unique love outside of her marriage. Finally, I will talk to a special guest, who will join us for the last portion of the show and help us navigate some modern courtship rituals. Are you ready? Let’s do this. 

Part One: Love at First Book 

Lucy Apsley was no ordinary 17th century Englishwoman. She was a genius. 

As the daughter of Sir Allen Apsley, the Lieutenant of the Tower of London, she was afforded a rather amazing education. The dry nurse they hired was French, so Lucy was bilingual as soon as she could speak. Lucy learned to read as a toddler and was reading fluently by the age of four. She had what we might describe today as an eidetic memory. She was known to be able to memorize large sermons verbatim after only hearing them once. 

Luckily for Lucy, her parents took her budding genius seriously. By the age of seven, Lucy had eight tutors at her disposal, teaching her not only languages and writing, but also the skills gentlewomen were expected to master, namely music, dancing, and needlework. 
And Lucy fucking hated it. 

Her mother was not pleased with her precocious child who preferred the learning of languages to domestic graces, and for her own good, sometimes Lucy was barred from her books. As if this would somehow stop her from reading. She confesses in her autobiographical writing that she would steal books from elsewhere and hide so she could continue feeding her brilliant mind. 

It wasn’t long before her father hired a tutor to teach Lucy Latin. She quickly outstripped her older brothers in her studies. Like many child geniuses, Lucy preferred the company of adults to younger children, so it was no surprise that Lucy quickly honed her sharp wit and fell into the reading of love poems and witty songs her mother’s friends would bring her. If given the choice of chatting with people or immersing herself in her books, however, Lucy chose books. It wasn’t long until Lucy was writing her own poems and kept herself entertained and out from underfoot. She grew from being a beautiful, intelligent child to a brilliant young woman, quiet and reserved in nature, but admired by those in her circle. 

And thus was Lucy’s life: a house bustling with many siblings, her mother’s friends weaving their way in and out of dinners at their estate, a steady stream of gentlemen visiting her father and bringing news from abroad to further entertain the curious mind of this genius lady who had no idea that, outside of her home in London, a young man had been living a very different life of his own in Nottingham. 

A few years before Lucy was born, a boy named John was born into the very wealthy and noble Hutchinson family, but unlike Lucy’s picturesque life, his was fraught with tragedy from the start. His mother died when he was young, and as an infant he barely survived a terrible carriage accident on his way to be raised by a relative. Unlike Lucy’s nurse who taught her much in her youngest years, John’s nurse wasn’t as well-educated, and so his education was average from the start but befitting his station as a young gentleman. Several illnesses and deaths occurred around young John, so he was moved from place to place, attending a variety of schools as he grew up. 

Even as a child, John’s family had their hopes pinned on his marrying well, and so young ladies were continually thrown in his path with the pressure from his father and relatives to make a good match. The first girl his family intended for him tragically died, and as he grew up, other attempts were made to introduce him to well-connected girls that might capture his attention. You would think a young man who was constantly fawned over by the prettiest, wealthiest young ladies in England would have loved this rock star lifestyle. But to be frank, John was really just...bored. 

These girls, you see, were all the same to him. Like many young ladies of the early modern period, they had been groomed to capture a good husband, and John was tired of the artifice and predictable conversations. He was by no means an introvert like Lucy, but he preferred the company of real friends to the constant parade of noble families he was supposed to entertain while their eligible daughters vied for his attention. He preferred hunting, fencing, music, and dancing to the tedious evenings engaged in courtly banter with girls talking endlessly about banal topics like the weather and their needlework. 

So John decided to escape. 

He left Lincoln’s Inn, where the study of law bored him, and planned to travel a bit. But where? The spring was coming to a close, perfect for a journey. His music instructor recommended he travel to Richmond, where the royal court was staying at the time. Richmond was an excellent place for hunting and finding entertainment with the prince and his entourage in town. 

It didn’t take long for the dashing young John Hutchinson to make new friends. As a student of music, he found himself drawn into the company of other musicians who were there to perform for the King. Musicians, by nature, needed an audience, and it was at one of these gatherings that John met Lucy’s father and adorable little sister Barbara. Barbara, you see, was still a child and was staying with her father as Lucy was travelling at the time with her mother. 

Like most little kids, Barbara was excited to have an audience, so she would seek out John and show him the latest song she learned on the lute or a new dance that she had just mastered. He got along well with Sir Apsley too, so it wasn’t uncommon for John to walk Barbara home if they met by chance so Sir Apsley could stay out with his friends. 

John walked Barbara home one day, and she asked if he would like a sweetmeat before he left. What Barbara didn’t tell him, however, was that these sweetmeats weren’t hers. They belonged to Lucy, and while Lucy was away traveling with her mother, Barbara had been sneaking into her sister’s closet to swipe the treats. When John was brought into Lucy’s room to get the snack, he couldn’t help but look around him. And that’s when he saw them: several volumes of Latin texts. 
He asked Barbara about the books and was amazed to hear that they belonged to Lucy. A girl who read Latin? His heart leapt. This was new. It was exciting. 

It was love at first book. 

John was now on a mission to find out more about this young lady who read Latin. Barbara told him how studious and reserved Lucy was, but his heart sank when he heard why Lucy was not at home. 

She had gone with her mother to broker the marriage between herself and another young man. John was crushed, and marveled at what he was feeling. Could he already be in love? With someone he hadn’t even met? 

John couldn’t stop thinking about this mysterious girl. She seemed to haunt him. For instance, one day he attended a gathering where young men and women were singing. After one such song, people started asking to hear the song that was written as a response. A piece of paper was produced with the lyrics. When John read them, he was amazed by their cleverness. He inquired after the author of this witty piece. The answer surprised him. It was none other than Lucy. The lyric was beyond anything he thought a woman could ever write. He HAD to meet this girl! 

His friends, however, warned him about Lucy. She didn’t like hanging out with people, guys especially. The young men told John that she was beautiful and witty, but didn’t care much for courtship. She was strong-willed and chased her own desires rather than socialize amongst the young men and women at court. Don’t bother, they said. 

But to John, Lucy sounded PERFECT. 

Which is why, when a servant appeared one night during a dinner John was enjoying with Sir Apsley and informed the house that Lucy had been married, John’s face suddenly went pale. He sunk into a deep depression. His greatest love affair was over before it even started. 

A few days later, Lucy and her mother came home. It just so happened that John was dining at the Apsley house when Lucy barged in. She was a mess. Her riding habit was crumbled and askew. She was covered in mud and dirt from the ride. Her hair was a tangled nest. She honestly didn’t give a fuck about how she looked as she walked right into the dinner party. 
John thought she was the most beautiful thing had ever seen. 

She paused to meet his gaze, then walked through the throng of guests indifferently, disappearing into her chambers. He didn’t care if she were married. He had to at least talk to her. 

By chance, John ran into Lucy the next day and inquired after her marriage. Lucy grinned. Her mother decided to play a trick on her father and sent the servant ahead with false news of her nuptials; there had been no marriage. She was free. John’s pulse quickened. He was not too late after all. 

Lucy was polite to John, but she kept him at a distance at first. You see, John wasn’t the only one being pressured into marriage. Lately Lucy had been introduced to several young men by her family, with the hopes that she would soon be a bride, much to Lucy’s dismay. While Lucy was an obedient daughter, when it came to marriage she refused to be pressured into a loveless union by her family. Many men had been put before her, and she had refused them all. She was tired of the mind-numbing entertaining she was expected to do. The last thing she wanted was a guy she would be obliged to be nice to for the sake of her family. 

It took some time, but after several weeks John was able to prove that he wasn’t like other men. He was genuinely interested in what she had to say rather than the ritual exchange of pleasantries. He loved her veracious literary appetite, and slowly she was coaxed out of her shell to find, for once, a man truly captivated by who she was as a human being and not just as an heiress and potential mother of noble children. 

Of course, as John was one of the most eligible bachelors in town, and Lucy had many gentlemen admirers, plots hatched by others to break up the pair. Jealous young men tried to convince John of Lucy’s indifference, and several young ladies did their best to draw his attention to Lucy’s disheveled appearance. However, John had long grown immune to courtly manipulations. He only wanted her. Lucy. The genius with the Latin books who didn’t give a damn about what people thought of her. 

The marriage date was set, and both families busied themselves preparing for that day. But our fairy tale doesn’t end here, for the tragedy that had followed John from infancy would follow him to the alter. 

The day of their wedding, before Lucy could make it to the church, she fell ill. Incredibly ill. She had a fever and was put to bed immediately. After a few days of the mysterious illness, John watched in horror as bright red spots began to cover his beloved’s face. Lucy had contracted the deadly disease of smallpox. If by some miracle she survived, she would be horribly scarred. 
It wasn’t too late for John to back out of the marriage. It wouldn’t be the first time an engagement was cancelled due to unforeseen illness. As if on cue, John’s father informed him that he had already arranged a new match with a girl from another fine family. Any man would have cut his losses and married someone else in the face of so much uncertainty. 

But John wasn’t any man. And Lucy wasn’t just any woman. She was strong and fierce. Virtuous but innately curious. Intelligent and devoted to the one and only man who loved her for who she was. John defied his family, who was urging him to marry another, and insisted that the only person he would ever marry was Lucy. 

Miraculously, Lucy didn’t die. On July 3rd, 1638, as soon as Lucy was able to get out of bed, John married her, smallpox and all, to the horrified looks of those in attendance. He loved her, body and soul, and refused to leave her side. After four long months, Lucy regained her strength and together they lived a life that Lucy herself could only describe in the following passage: 
“There is only this to be recorded, that never was there a passion more ardent and less idolatrous; he loved her better than his life, with inexpressible tenderness and kindness, had a most high obliging esteem of her, yet still considered honour, religion and duty above her, nor ever suffered the intrusion of such a dotage as should blind him from marking her imperfections, which he looked upon with such an indulgent eye as did not abate his love and esteem of her, while it augmented his care to blot out all those spots which might make her appear less worthy of that respect he paid her. [..] ‘Twas not her face he loved, her honour and her virtue were his mistresses [...].” 

By the end of her life, John and Lucy had nine children, and Lucy continued writing, translating Latin texts into English, writing poetry including her epic “Order and Disorder,” composing theological tracts, and finally writing a biography of her husband, Colonel John Hutchinson, in which she describes her incredible life and thus securing her place amongst the most badass women in early modern history. 

Part Two: The Goddess and the Fortress 

In many ways, Laudomia Forteguerri was a typical 16th century gentlewoman. She did her daughterly duty and married a man that helped her family’s fortune. By 1539, she and Guilio di Alessandro Colombini had three kids. Laudomia ran in the most elite and powerful circles in the Republic of Siena. She was well educated and literate, which was a luxury afforded to only a select number of women at the time, and was well known for her incredible wit and beautiful love poetry. 

Her sonnets weren’t written to her husband, however. The love of her life wasn’t him. Or any man, actually. 

It was Margaret of Austria. Yeah, You heard me. A woman. 

Sometime around 1536 Laudomia met Margaret, the illegitimate daughter of the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V, and instantly there was a connection. Margaret stopped by Siena during her travels, and after their first meeting the two women kept in touch, reuniting at least once more in Siena after a few years absence. Margaret journeyed through Siena each time on her way to marry, first to Alessandro de Medici, the Duke of Florence, who was assassinated the year after their marriage, and then to Ottovio Fornese, Duke of Parma, a mere 14 year old boy. 

Needless to say, Margaret wasn’t doing well in the marriage department. In fact, records indicate that she was rather indifferent to her husbands. She even refused to consummate her marriage with her second husband for several years, and when she finally did and provided him with an heir in 1545, she left him entirely. 

Like Laudomia, Margaret was very well educated. She was a polyglot and a great lover of books. It was no wonder that the two fell in love at first sight. The attraction was electric and their love so well known throughout Italy that it became a muse for many authors in the Renaissance. Along with the resurgence of Greek and Latin studies came a new infatuation with Sappho, the poetess of Lesbos, which is where we get the word “lesbian.” The poetry of Sappho was all the rage in the early modern period, and the same-sex love and desire she demonstrated in her works was venerated by many scholars. In Laudomia and Margaret, a new Sapphic love was born and thus celebrated in literary circles. 

The question of whether Laudomia and Margaret were lovers or just merely in love in the Platonic sense is a matter of debate today just as it was in Italy at the time. On one hand, the purity of love between two women that transcended sexual attraction was praised as a virtuous ideal; on the other hand, the “tribadism” of two women who were sexually attracted was condemned as a sin. Laudomia and Margaret revealed much about their authors; some condemned their love while others praised it as a pinnacle of heavenly communion between two souls. We are told Laudomia and Margaret met “many times” during Margaret’s visits to Siena, and while parted the two women wrote letters to one another. 

Not much remains of their correspondence, but five sonnets written by Laudomia to Margaret survive. The poems are full of pining and longing. She likens her beloved to the sun, and refers to Margaret as “her goddess” and an “immortal woman,” angelic and heavenly. Laudomia expresses her anguish at being parted from her love and finds herself filled with “woe” at the prospect of being torn from her side. 

Their letters and these poems, however, are seemingly intimate. And in a time when tribadism was looked down upon, how exactly did so many people find out about the love Laudomia and Margaret shared? 

What would have normally remained a private affair between two ladies became a very, very public, thanks to a third person: Alessandro Piccolomini. 

You see, Alessandro had a bit of a crush on Laudomia. Okay, not a crush. More like an infatuation. He was in love! But she had no interest in him, and he didn’t press the issue. She was married, you see, and also shared a special relationship with Margaret. So where did he fit into her life? The answer: Anywhere he could. 

The first indication that Alessandro was head-over-heals with the bright Laudomia was with the publication of The Sphere of the World and On the Fixed Stars (1539) in Italian. In this astronomical text, Alessandro claims to have overheard Laudomia speaking to another lady, complaining that she wasn’t able to study the stars. So what’s a man to do? Write a book for her, of course. 

Alessandro just couldn’t stop singing her praises. In 1541, he gave a lecture in Padua where he gushed about Laudomia’s poetry, specifically drawing attention to Laudomia’s love for Margaret. According to Alessandro, there was nothing sexual about the love Laudomia bore Margaret, but rather, it was a transcendent love between two women. That said, when the two women met, he claimed a certain “fire” burned within the hearts of Margaret and Laudomia. It was love. It was passion. It was purely philosophical because heaven forbid two women actually be sexually attracted to one another. Perhaps it was merely his wishful thinking. 

Poor Alessandro kept singing Laudomia’s praises to anyone who would listen, and continued to try to court her favor. In 1539, when Laudomia had her third child, a son, Alessandro wrote a philosophical book for him on being a gentleman and citizen. He waited in the wings patiently, supporting Laudomia in every way he could, until, finally, one fateful day in 1542, Laudomia’s husband died. She was free to wed again! Alessandro was over the moon. Now was his chance! With Laudomia a widow, and her love for Margaret being platonic, surely he would be able to win her hand! 

Alas, his great love was completely unrequited, and when Laudomia decided to remarry in 1544 to a man from the most powerful family in Siena, his dreams were crushed, and he soon gave up his fruitless quest to win her heart. 

His wouldn’t be the only heart broken, however. It was some time around then that it seems the affair between Laudomia and Margaret ended, as there is no evidence of further correspondence after about 1540. And then, the unthinkable happened. 

In the 1550s, Florence wanted to take over the Republic of Siena, and their war effort was headed by the Medicis, the same family Margaret had initially married into, who was backed by the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V, Margaret’s very own father. Laudomia was from the most powerful families in Siena, and had just married into the ruling family in 1544. By 1554, Siena was under siege. The two women’s worlds were officially at war. 

So what does a badass woman do with a broken heart and a war looming on her front lawn? 
She fucking gets to work, that’s what. 

Most of the men of Siena were fighting at the frontlines, dead, or wounded, leaving the women of Siena nearly defenseless. The city of Siena itself was up against an impossibly sized army. Laudomia, however, wasn’t going to let that stop her from trying to save the city. The men, after all, were busy. 

Hitching up her skirts, Laudomia led up THREE THOUSAND women to the battlements, according to one source. They wore the colors of the city and carried picks and shovels. When they got to the edge of the city, they got to work. Hundreds of women worked together to build up the fortifications. Together they built the impressive Fortino Delle Donne, the Women’s Fort. You heard me. WOMEN BUILT A WHOLE FREAKING FORT under the direction of skilled masons. It was pretty badass. 

Sadly, however, it wasn’t enough. The Republic of Siena fell in 1555 and surrendered to the Medicis and the Holy Roman Empire. We know nothing about Laudomia’s fate after 1555; scholars assume her life was lost in the war. But you can still go to see the ruins of the fort Laudomia and the other women built to keep out the army of men. 

Part Three: The Bard as Your Wingman 

Just like in the past, badass women today experience love and loss, but what do we do if we find ourselves single? 

I went to St. Louis to meet up with Professor Harpy at a restaurant to find out. Professor Harpy and I have known each other for years, which is why, when I found a website full of Shakespeare pick-up lines, I simply had to try them out on her. 

Literature Lady: Hey. 
Professor Harpy: Yes. 
Literature Lady: “Have you ever seen a beast with two backs?” 
Professor Harpy: [laughs] 
Literature Lady: “Want to help me make one?” 
Professor Harpy: [laughs] Oh my god... these for real? 
Literature Lady: No. He (Shakespeare) didn’t write all these. 
Professor Harpy: Well, I know. But that’s from Othello. That one’s from Othello. 
Literature Lady: Yeah. Wait wait wait. “Hey Baby...can Ophelia up?” 
Professor Harpy: [laughs and slaps table] That’s pretty brazen of you. I know we showered naked together but... 
Literature Lady: OPHELIA. Get it? [laughs] 
Professor Harpy: [laughs] Oh that’s terrible! 
Literature Lady: That’s not the worst yet. Hold on. “But soft! What light through yonder trouser breaks?” 
Professor Harpy: Uh uh. [shakes head] Uh uh. Okay, that’s saying something...like you might have a tiny...you know... 
Literature Lady: Oh. That’s true. Now, let’s see. That one was too bad. 
Professor Harpy: Wait. Those are my trousers. Why would I be wearing trousers? 
Literature Lady: Okay. Here’s another one. “I’d like for you to please go out with me.” 
Professor Harpy: [snickers] 
Literature Lady: “So tell me...have you ever been picked up in iambic pentameter before?” 
Professor Harpy: [laughs] I can say...I can honestly say I have not. 
Literature Lady: Well now you can say you have! 
Professor Harpy: Now I can say I have. 
Literature Lady: [laughs] 
Professor Harpy: I have now! 
Literature Lady: [laughs][breathless] I can hardly say these. [in a low voice] “I’ll chronicle your virtues.” 
Professor Harpy: Mm hm. Oh no. Oh no. 
Literature Lady: [laughs] 
Professor Harpy: It’s gotta be a really short list. 
Literature Lady: Oh no. I...I went through hundreds and these [laughs] are the best. [pause] You’re welcome. 
Professor Harpy: Thank you. I feel so honored. 
Literature Lady: Wait wait wait... 
Professor Harpy: They’re so awkward! 
Literature Lady: “My heart it pines...as my trousers tent.” 
[both laugh] 
Professor Harpy: Oh my god! [laughs] Oh... 
Literature Lady: “Is this my dagger I see before me or am I merely happy to cast eyes upon thy beauty?” 
Professor Harpy: [laughs] It’s the...it’s the eyebrow waggle that you’re doing also. [laughs] 
Literature Lady: [laughs] 
Professor Harpy: Oh my god. 
Literature Lady: These would be even funnier if we were drinking right now. [laughs] 
Professor Harpy: I know. I feel as though this could be something if these were used at the MLA conference. 
Literature Lady: [gasp] I’m going to the MLA! 
Professor Harpy: You should use these and see what happens. 
Literature Lady: [gasp] I could go around and ask people these, and then that would blow all my chances of getting a job...oh wait...it actually might improve it! 
Professor Harpy: It might improve it! 
Literature Lady: ‘Cause what happens at the MLA... 
[both together] STAYS AT THE MLA! [hysterical laughter] 
Professor Harpy: Oh my god...oh...my...god... 
Literature Lady: Oh my gosh. Okay. I will...I will do one last one. “If I whispered in thine ear that though hast the body of beauty unknown but to the heavens, wouldst thou hold it against me?” 
Professor Harpy: Uh uh. 
Literature Lady: Eh? Eh? 
Professor Harpy: Uh uh. That’s probably the best one. That’s probably the best one. 
Literature Lady: Yeah. I didn’t think it was too bad. 
Professor Harpy: That one’s pretty good. That one...that one’s awfully... 
Literature Lady: I would chuckle but then tell you to go away. But I would chuckle. 
Professor Harpy: Yeah. I would say, “Gee...I’d be bored and you’d be confused.” 
Literature Lady: Do you have any pick up lines that men have tried on you that were pretty bad? 
Professor Harpy: I did, but they were not like this. 
Literature Lady: Oh. 
Professor Harpy: They were not like this. It was when I was in Texas and I was at some kind of, like, shit- kicker bar. 
Literature Lady: Yes. 
Professor Harpy: And I was up there getting drinks. And this very old cowboy—not even good looking...not like your Sam Eliott kind of way. 
Literature Lady: Uh huh. 
Professor Harpy: This man was, like, missing some teeth a kind of way. 
Literature Lady: [laughs] 
Professor Harpy: And he was from East Texas, which is, like, a totally different kind of Texas. 
Literature Lady: Uh huh. 
Professor Harpy: And he walked up and he goes, [in a deep Southern accent] “Hey there, little lady. You look like you’ve been dipped in purdy sowce.” 
Literature Lady: [laughs] 
Professor Harpy: I just stared at him. And I was like, “Yeah...I gotta go.” I just walked away. And all I could think of is, “wait...what is purdy sowce?” Not “pretty.” Purdy. P-U-R-D-Y sowce. Not “sauce.” SOWce. 
Literature Lady: [laughs] Your yankee ways are showing. 
Professor Harpy: [laughs] My yankee ways were all “I gotta go.” I mean, that was my response. “I gotta go.” I just walked away. And everyone was all, “Where are the drinks?” ... “They’re up there next to that guy. Someone else can go get them.” 
Literature Lady: Yeah. So, my worst one. I was in college, and I went to a costume party. And I was dressed like Lara Croft. So I had, like, midriff-y [shirt], you know, and really super tight leather. 
Professor Harpy: Yeah. 
Literature Lady: And a guy dressed as a bishop or a priest or something, he walks up, and he goes, “You look like a sinner. Why don’t you get down on your knees and do some penance for me.” 
Professor Harpy: [gasp] That’s terrible! 
Literature Lady: To which I wittily replied, “No thanks!” and walked away. 
Professor Harpy: [laughs] You’re like, “Mmm...I’m good, thank you. I’m good, thanks.” 
Literature Lady: [laughs] 
Professor Harpy: No, my mom...I think I told you this...My dad, on their first date, to my mom said, “I’m Christopher Columbus. Let me explore your world.” 
Literature Lady: [gasp] No! 
[both laugh] 
Professor Harpy: Oh, my mom said, “I might have smallpox.” 
Literature Lady: [bigger gasp] YOU’RE KIDDING! [laughs] 
Professor Harpy: [laughs] 
Literature Lady: She was a nurse from the beginning, wasn’t she? 
Professor Harpy: She was like, “You never know, I might have smallpox!” And he was like, “Oooo...daaaaaamn!” But clearly something worked. 
Literature Lady: I was going to say but it worked and you’re here. [laughs] 
Professor Harpy: Yeah. They’ve been married 55 years. Don’t use that, though, on anyone. Oh my god. Yeah. 
Literature Lady: [laughs] That’s awesome. 
Professor Harpy: Yeah. Mmhm. Mmhm. 
Literature Lady: Alright, well, we’re going to do this podcast. 
Professor Harpy: Alright, good. Good good. I’m glad; we need to do this podcast. 
Literature Lady: Yay! Thanks. 
Professor Harpy: You’re welcome. 

Credits 
Thank you for listening to the Literature Lady Podcast. You can follow me on Twitter @Literature_Lady or email me at literatureladyonline@gmail.com. Our music, the anonymously written “My Lady Carey’s Dompe” from 1524, was beautifully performed by Jon Sayles. A special thanks goes out to Professor Harpy for graciously enduring my bad pickup lines. You can follow her on Twitter at @Professor_Harpy. 

If you are interested in learning more about Lucy Hutchinson and Laudomia Forteguerri or would like to know my sources for this show, please stay tuned for the bibliography. 

For Lucy’s story, I used her book Memoirs of the Life of Colonel Hutchinson. You can find the 1822 edition of this for free on Google Books, but I recommend the Everyman edition because of their easy to use chronology and contextual endnotes. Bartleby.com has an etext of the 1679 publication of her Order and Disorder that is freely available. Lucy’s On the Principles of the Christian Religion can be found for free on Google Books. Her poetry is widely anthologized. 
I first came across Laudomia Forteguerri’s story in Diana Robin’s book Salons, the Presses, and the Counter-Reformation in Sixteenth Century Italy published by the University of Chicago Press. I’m indebted to Konrad Eisenbichler for his book The Sword and the Pen: Women Politics and Poetry in Sixteenth Century Siena published by the University of Notre Dame Press. I also consulted Same Sex Desire in the English Renaissance: A Sourcebook of Texts, 1470-1650, which is edited by Kenneth Borris and published by CRC Press. For more information on Laudomia and other badass women like her, check out Same Sex Desire Among Women in the Middle Ages, edited by Francesca Canad`e Sautman and Pamela Sheingorn published by Palgrave. 

And for those of you still single and looking for true love, you might try your own luck with some Shakespeare Pick-Up Lines, which can be found on Pickupline.net. 

Thank you for listening to the first episode of the Literature Lady podcast. I’m Dr. Janet Bartholomew. Take care! 

Search This Blog

Powered by Blogger.