History

Washington’s Rules of Civility, No. 7

A Case for Decent Behavior

Last week on COMPOSITIONS, guest Edward Lengel made a case for studying history with compassion. Equally important, is a call for a little more civility (not just politically). For this, too, we can look to our fore-bearers. In this case, George Washington.

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My own little copy, in my own little room. It looks like Washington is giving the folks on that Toile wallpaper a disapproving look, n’est pas?

Washington’s Rules

Sometime before he was 16, Washington wrote 110 of these maxims by hand, transcribing them from a set created by French Jesuits in the 16th century. What should seem like common sense or simple courtesy for behaving in public––then and now––seems worth repeating. So, every now and then I will feature one of these helpful suggestions, in no particular order, for you to ponder and share. This one seems self-explanatory.



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Thanks for sharing in the spirit of learning about our collective American History by subscribing to the blog. Guest posts are welcomed and encouraged. Contact me for details.

For Karen-related author research tidbits, book news and events, subscribe to my e-publication, CHASING HISTORIES.

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Edward Lengel on Compassion

The Compassionate Historian

A Guest Post by Edward Lengel

Compassion is the key to understanding history. Too often, readers and historians look on the past with a kind of arrogance, not just judging their forbears, but absolving themselves of the basic human flaws that have inspired the mistakes and tragedies of the past. We, of course, would never submit without protest to the kinds of misdeeds our ancestors committed. Or would we?

And, by setting our own humanity above our ancestors, don’t we also deny ourselves the chance of learning from their accomplishments?

A much better approach to history is to recognize, as the art historian Sir Kenneth Clark concluded in his great [1969] television series Civilisation, that “men haven’t changed much in the last two thousand years.” With this in mind, we can embrace the past and recognize in it the story of ourselves.

George Washington did not achieve victory in the Revolutionary War because he was better than human, but because he made the most of his humanity. The British mishandled the Irish Famine of 1846-52 not because they were exceptionally evil, but because they gave in to instinctive flaws, such as fear, that we also share. And the men and women who fought in and experienced the First World War, such as the four individuals I describe in my book Never in Finer Company, succumbed or overcame based upon the resources inside themselves.

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You can follow Edward Lengel, independent author and historian, via his blog, Facebook, or Twitter. He is currently Colonial Williamsburg’s Revolutionary in Residence. When not writing “cracking good stories,” he’s often hiking through history and giving tours and talks.

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Thanks for sharing in the spirit of learning about our collective American History by subscribing to the blog. Guest posts like this one are welcomed and encouraged. Contact me for details.

For Karen-related author research tidbits, book news and events, subscribe to my e-publication, CHASING HISTORIES.

 

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Research & Writer’s Block

Writers block means going back to the books. (Public Domain Image: Ivan Kramskoy. Reading woman.)
Writers block means going back to the books. (Public Domain Image: Ivan Kramskoy. Reading woman.)

Writers often dread the idea of becoming stuck, and Writer’s Digest (WD) has a great post this week about 5 Tips for Overcoming Writer’s Block.

I’ll admit that I’m not a big believer in writer’s block as this staring-at-a-blank-page, drink-in-hand, woe-to-the-tortured-Hemingway-like-writer syndrome. Much like the WD article author, Molly Cochran, I think the reasons for why writers might stall are pretty straightforward. And Molly’s tips are a great help for overcoming those problems.

But I will add to her list a sixth reason, and it’s primarily for all the historical novelists out there. Lack of preparation or research.

I write what I call “Factual Fiction,” whereby my plot, story and characters are not loosely set in history but intrinsically tied to real events, people and places. So if I am having difficulty with my plot, or what my characters are doing or saying, it’s because I simply don’t know enough about the event, person or place with which they must interact.

To overcome those moments when words come to a screeching halt, I read (or sometimes reread) about an event. I take out pictures of the locations I’m featuring, or I read second-hand accounts or bios about the person they’re speaking to. Once, I had to request a historian’s dissertation from a California university to overcome a lack of information.

Usually within an hour, or in that one case a couple weeks, I’m humming along with ideas again. No more writer’s block. Then my only problem becomes whether or not I’ve blocked off enough time to write.

How Time Flies

Hello again. Dipping back into my blog after a hiatus and after a new year begins, it’s clear to me how time can zoom by. You’re doing one thing (editing, in my case) and thinking, “After this, then I’ll get to that.”

This thinking is not mine alone, as witnessed on a holiday with my in-laws in New Jersey. Now in their mid-90s, my partner’s parents have been in the same house since 1959. Although some appliances or worn out chairs have been replaced, much of it has stayed true to the 60s. In part, because life was happening. Be it the morning newspaper or six kids, and thirteen grandchildren. They were so busy with this, that that (updating the house) just wasn’t the priority. And maybe it’s lovely it wasn’t.

While I’ll have more details on this excursion in my upcoming Will Travel For Words column over at ShelfPleasure, for now, enjoy these few snapshots of a circa 1960s house, and be thankful it hasn’t changed, so you can go back there, too.

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Lafayette’s Hermoine Close Up

Every now and then a little bit of history sails right into our lives. This last week, the Hermione landed in Yorktown, VA. The Hermione (pronounced Her-me-own) is a full-scale replica of a ship Lafayette sailed from France to America to fight with us during the Revolution.

While I’ll have more about my tour of the ship later this month in my Will Travel With Words Column on ShelfPleasure.com, for now enjoy this gallery of images: The Hermione Up Close.

The Hermione is currently sailing up the east coast to land in New York July 4th. To find out where the Hermoine will be, visit the Hermione2015 Website or for amazing photos visit their awesome Facebook page.

 

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A Soldier’s Wife Sentiments Translated

Sometimes when I’m exploring 1776 essays or letters for research for my book, I get lost in a quagmire of how things used to be written. So I have to translate them into today’s causal language. This helps me understand the issues of the past so I can make sense of the them for my reader.

Case in point, an essay written by Esther de Berdt Reed called Sentiments. Esther wrote this essay in order to push women who were staying at home during the American Revolution to contribute to the Cause. Her husband was fighting with George Washington. In the end, her essay helped form the Ladies Association of Philadelphia, and they raised over $300,000 to produce linen and shirts for the Continental Army.

For all those wives whose husbands are away fighting in foreign lands, here’s a hero for you.

Below Esther’s picture is her published essay, with my translation in italics (even though by adding it it blows my 250 words for the blog):

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SENTIMENTS (An Op-Ed)

ON the commencement of actual war, the Women of America manifested a firm resolution to contribute as much as could depend on them, to the deliverance of their country. (When this whole thing started, the women of this continent said they’d support forming a new country, too.)

Animated by the purest patriotism, they are sensible of sorrow at this day, in not offering more than barren wishes for the success of so glorious a Revolution. and this sentiment is universal from the north to the south of the Thirteen United States. (Women say they’re patriots, by sadly they’re only offering empty prayers hoping we’ll win the war–and this is true regardless of which colony we live in.)

Our ambition is kindled by the same of those heroines of antiquity, who have rendered their sex illustrious, and have proved to the universe, that, if the weakness of our Constitution, if opinion and manners did not forbid us to march to glory by the same paths as the Men, we should at least equal, and sometimes surpass them in our love for the public good. (Women have within us a history of great women who proved that just because we’re physically smaller, or perceived to be weaker, and not allowed to go to war, doesn’t mean we can’t be better than the men at being patriotic.)

I glory in all that which my sex has done great and commendable. (I think chicks have proven to achieve some amazing acts.)

I call to mind with enthusiasm and with admiration, all those acts of courage, of constancy and patriotism, which history has transmitted to us: (Let me give you some awesome examples of kick-assery that history hands down to us.)

The people favoured by Heaven, preserved from destruction by the virtues, the zeal and the resolution of Deborah, of Judith, of Esther! (The biblical stories of Deborah, Judith and Esther were kept and retold because those ladies had grit and determination.)

The fortitude of the mother of the Massachabees, in giving up her sons to die before her eyes: Rome saved from the fury of a victorious enemy by the efforts of Volumnia, and other Roman Ladies: So many famous sieges where the Women have been seen forgeting the weakness of their sex, building new walls, digging trenches with their feeble hands, furnishing arms to their defenders, they themselves darting the missile weapons on the enemy, resigning the ornaments of their apparel, and their fortune, to fill the public treasury, and to hasten the deliverance of their country; burying themselves under its ruins, throwing themselves into the flames rather than submit to the disgrace of humiliation before a proud enemy. (History has shown us that we are capable of this, all the way back to the early Romans. Those women forgot they were chicks, built walls, dug holes, provided weapons, picked up arms, quit dressing all fancy and spending money so the country could use it. They’d rather their bodies be under the rubble of Rome than be wusses in front of their enemies.)

Born for liberty, disdaining to bear the irons of a tyrannic Government, we associate ourselves to the grandeur of those Sovereigns,cherished and revered, who have held with so much splendour the scepter of the greatest States, The Batildas, the Elizabeths, the Maries, the Catharines, who have extended the empire of liberty, and contented to reign by sweetness and justice, have broken the chains of slavery, forged by tryants in the times of ignorance and barbarity. (Even examples of the past queens of England show us that we can build empires of freedom, while being nice and fair, and not giving into the idea we are subordinates–no longer bound by stupid or antiquated ideas thrust on us.)

The Spanish Women, do they not make, at this moment, the most patriotic sacrifices, to encrease the means of victory in the hands of their Sovereign. He is a friend to the French Nation. They are our allies. We call to mind, doubly interested, that it was a French Maid who kindled up amongst her fellow-citizens, the flame of patriotism buried under long misfortunes: It was the Maid of Orleans who drove from the kingdom of France the ancestors of those same British, whose odious yoke we have just shaken off; and whom it is necessary that we drive from this Continent. (If the French and Spanish women are/have been supporting freedom against tyranny and past ties to England, we can. We have to support our allies here because we’re fighting the British like they did, so let’s stick together. Heck if the virgin Joan of Arc can fight the British, we can. We’ve already declared separation from the British who are choking us, so now we have to kick them out.)

But I must limit myself to the recollection of this small number of achievements. (I could give hundreds of examples of women kicking ass in support of liberty, but that’s not really the point here.)

Who knows if persons disposed to censure, and sometimes too severely with regard to us, may not disapprove our appearing acquainted even with the actions of which our sex boasts? We are at least certain, that he cannot be a good citizen who will not applaud our efforts for the relief of the armies which defend our lives, our possessions, our liberty? (There’s always going to be someone–often a man–who will try keep women down. So let’s just agree those guys are really jerks who typically twist anything that’s good or helpful about our society, our goods or freedom.)

The situation of our soldiery has been represented to me; the evils inseparable from war, and the firm and generous spirit which has enabled them to support these. (I’ve heard it’s really bad at the front for our guys, and so as bad as that is, we have to be equally good in our support.)

But it has been said, that they may apprehend, that, in the course of a long war, the view of their distresses may be lost, and their services be forgottten. Forgotten! (But you know how it is. People’s ability to care has limits, and the longer the war drags on, the less people will continue to care or even think about the men at the front.)

never; I can answer in the name of all my sex. Brave Americans, your disinterestedness, your courage, and your constancy will always be dear to America, as long as she shall preserve her virtue. (No damn way. I say it for all of us chicks. Be brave. Not wishy-washy. Strong. Consistent in the way you care for America, for as long as she is worthy.)

We know that at a distance from the theatre of war, if we enjoy any tranquility, it is the fruit of your watchings, your labours, your dangers. (We’re not fighting. But if we’re enjoying ourselves at home, it’s because we–the women–are taking care of ourselves, but also because the men are out there working to fight for, and protect us.)

If I live happy in the midst of my family; if my husband cultivates his field, and reaps his harvest in peace; if, surrounded with my children, I myself nourish the youngest, and press it to my bosom, without being affraid of feeing myself separated from it, by a ferocious enemy; if the house in which we dwell; if our barns, our orchards are safe at the present time from the hands of those incendiaries, it is to you that we owe it. (If I’m happy it’s because I get to stay home–warm, peaceful, with family–and not fight. My guy has to go spend his days at war, in the hopes of having peace later. The reason I can stay home with my kids, and not be scared as shit of the enemy, is because my man is fighting them somewhere other than in my backyard. We owe them for that.)

And shall we hesitate to evidence to you our gratitude? (So to thank him, should we do nothing? Not act?)

Shall we hesitate to wear a cloathing more simple; hair dressed less elegant, while at the price of this small privation, we shall deserve your benedictions. (What if we kept wearing our old or more simple clothing, or quit going to the salon to get our hair done–saving even that little bit might make them grateful to us).

Who, amongst us, will not renounce with the highest pleasure, those vain ornaments, when-she shall consider that the valiant defenders of America will be able to draw some advantage from the money which she may have laid out in these; (If you think about it, wouldn’t saying no to selfishly having a bunch of shiny things show better that we get it. That we understand that men are dying in order to begin a country here? Is there an way those dollars could be better spent or saved in support of them?)

that they will be better defended from the rigours of the seasons, that after their painful toils, they will receive some extraordinary and unexpected relief; (Maybe for our guys, knowing that we’ve chosen to make do with less, and act more, will actually help them feel better while they’re away. Then they’ll know that when they come home, our shit has been handled so they can have a bit of a break.)

that these presents will perhaps be valued by them at a greater price, when they will have it in their power to say: This is the offering of the Ladies. (Our actions will be valued more than the material crap we accumulate. Then men will truly know what women are capable of doing on their own.)

The time is arrived to display the same sentiments which animated us at the beginning of the Revolution, (We have to walk the talk now. We have to act now like we we said we would in the Declaration of Independence that started this whole Revolution.)

when we renounced the use of teas, however agreeable to our taste, rather than receive them from our persecutors; when we made it appear to them that we placed former necessaries in the rank of superfluities, when our liberty was interested; (We must put down the tea cup, even though we like tea, ‘coz the British gave it to us back when we showed them our wants weren’t as important as our needs or freedom)

when our republican and laborious hands spun the flax, prepared the linen intended for the use of our soldiers; (We need to go back to making our own fabric and shirts for our own army using our own hands.)
when exiles and fugitives we supported with courage all the evils which are the concomitants of war. (We need to go back to being those rebels–even our ancestors were likely kicked out of Britain in the first place–who had the guts to fight against bad people, even though that means fighting a terrible war.)

Let us not lose a moment; (Do it now!)

let us be engaged to offer the homage of our gratitude at the altar of military valour, (Get in there! Show some respect. Be thankful. Be a warrior.)

and you, our brave deliverers, (And for you, our guys fighting for our freedom…)

while mercenary slaves combat to cause you to share with them, the irons with which they are loaded, (while a blindly devoted army is coming at you, making you fight against them so you don’t get shot by one of their bullets)

receive with a free hand our offering, the purest which can be presented to your virtue, (know that we’ve got your backs, and you can reach out to us, for we’re going to give you the respect and support you’ve earned.)

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Editing Historical Fiction

LastSupper_KarenAChase

I read that Dan Brown takes about two years to research a novel, and another two to write. Editing adds to the process, because it involves those first two steps. Using The DaVinci Code, and the assumption that Brown wrote it from beginning to end, I’ll explain how (with some conjecture).

Year one: Brown sees DaVinci’s painting and thinks, “that guy next to Jesus looks like a chick.” A quick Google search… she could be Mary Magdalene? “Betchya the church would have killed to keep that a secret.” Bing! Book idea. So now he researches Bible lore galore, secret codes, and the history of France and Rome. Maybe he writes chapter one.

Year two: More research! He has to go to Paris (poor guy) and the Vatican. In Italy he writes three more chapters.

Year three: Writes continually. Decides the female character must be the descendent of Jesus and Mary. Serious plot changes.

End of year four: Book done. (Party!)

Year five: Editing. Back to chapter one. Wow, it kind of sucks. It’s four years old. He has read a few books on writing historical fiction since then. He’s also seen the Louvre, and the pyramids are not where he put them. He has to apply fours years of knowledge to every old word.

So, that’s where I am now. I’m editing my American Revolution manuscript (again), but now as an author who is four years older. Better read. Wiser about the history. But, I thank Mary Magdalene that I am.

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Washington Travels

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After a lovely Ciao 60 holiday, returning to life here means returning to the past and my writing of historical novels. So in an attempt to reconcile travel with history, I want to chat about Where is George. As in George Washingtons. Plural. The money.

Every now and then a one dollar bill comes into my hands that has been stamped with a mark, and an accompanying website URL. That mark tells me I can track where the dollar bill traveled. All I do is log on to WhereIsGeorge.com, type in the serial number of the bill, and read on about where the bill has been. Users add their location to a list for that particular bill, and the miles add up. Not always do users hop on to the website, so it’s likely a bill could travel in between without it being documented.

Recently, a weathered bill came to me. I was certain it traveled far. I was mistaken. For the images of the bill herein, this is where it went: It had traveled for 220 days. 575 miles. It had 2 entries. Mine here in Richmond, and the bill originated in Island Pond, VT.

So why do I do this? Because I think it’s fun. I’ve only played along two or three times before. The guy who logged in at Island Pond? He has stamped and entered 129,225 bills so far. And I thought I had a history problem…

Have you ever found a $1 bill for WhereIsGeorge.com?

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Nearing The End

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This post is part apology, part celebration. After five years of research, books, libraries and writing, writing, writing, I have at last finished my manuscript about the Declaration of Independence! Five years! In addition to moving, reparing an historic house, running a business and publishing Bonjour 40, I filled in my spare time doing this. I have been weepy all week and thrilled beyond measure. So, yaaaaay!

This post is in part an apology, because in the last month in order to finish the last hundred or so pages, I have ignored many of you. I’ve been delinquent with communication, forgotten to do a few things, and been late to more than one event. For all of you who wondered what happened, I was just spending time 237 years ago, and they didn’t have internet then.

I have been writing the book chronologically, and from page one to the end. So in this last month, these fictitious people have finally been performing my scenes I outlined for them years ago. It’s been joyous. Emotional. Thrilling. As a friend said, “It’s epic. What you’re writing is epic.” I hope so. My characters have at last become who I knew they could be.

Yes, there will be more edits (I’ve already done numerous edits). Yes, there will be plenty of work ahead to find an agent, a publisher, and readers. However, for those who are already asking what’s next… Please just let me swim in THE END until my fingers get all pruny. For just a little while.

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Shawnee Words

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While researching the Shawnee for my American Revolutionary novel, I came across these words by Chief Tecumseh. Although he figured more prominently in the war of 1812, his words are still a great code to follow:

• So live your life that the fear of death can never enter your heart.
• Trouble no one about their religion; respect others in their view, and demand that they respect yours.
• Love your life, perfect your life, beautify all things in your life.
• Seek to make your life long and its purpose in the service of your people.
• Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide.
• Always give a word or a sign of salute when meeting or passing a friend, even a stranger, when in a lonely place.
• Show respect to all people and grovel to none.
• When you arise in the morning give thanks for the food and for the joy of living.
• If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies only in yourself.
• Abuse no one and no thing, for abuse turns the wise ones to fools and robs the spirit of its vision.
• When it comes your time to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with the fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way.
• Sing your death song and die like a hero going home.

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