Friday, October 31, 2008

Tart of the Week: Elizabeth Armistead



This week's tart is a very special and notorious tart of the late 18th century. She enjoyed a celebrity as the most famous courtesan and slept with just about every famous man in England during her career. Please just try to wrap your mind around that! Not much is known of Elizabeth Cane's humble beginnings except that she was born July 11, 1750. Elizabeth's beauty was able to secure her a career as a model for a hairdresser when she first arrived in London. It has even been rumored that she had been Perdita's dresser when she was an actress at Drury Lane. Either way, her beauty (and large breasts) attracted the attention of well-known madam and soon Elizabeth was a working out of a brothel. So much for the hair modeling business! It was around this time that Elizabeth began going under the name Mrs. Armistead in order to protect her family.

Elizabeth's success as a courtesan can probably be attributed to the fact that she wouldn't let herself get too attached to her clients. Most of them being rakes anyway, Elizabeth saw no need to be bothered with love. Some of her long list of lovers include, the Duke of Dorset, Duke of Ancaster, Earl of Derby, Viscount Bolingbroke, Lord George Cavendish (The Duke of Devonshire's brother), and, of course, the Prince of Wales. Elizabeth must have been very good at her craft! She was even good enough to buy herself the Armistead House. A famous story the Devonshire set like to joke about (along with everyone else) was when Lord George Cavendish came to Elizabeth's house one night after a few too many drinks. When he was refused admittance he barged in anyway. He went straight to her chamber, opened her door and, candle in hand, discovered the Prince of Wales cowering behind the door. Lord George burst out laughing, made a low bow and walked the whole way home, laughing. He had a much better sense of humor than his brother.

One person who was certainly not laughing was Perdita. She was very upset that the prince had spurned her love for that of "The Armistead."* Since both women were both celebrities, the papers capitalized on Perdita's anguish by gleefully supplying stories of the two women's rivalry. Luckily for Perdita, the prince broke things off with Elizabeth and moved on to Grace Dalrymple Elliot. Elizabeth herself moved on to bigger and better fish. That fish just happened to be a Fox.

After a string of lovers later, Charles James Fox was now the sad, rejected lover of Perdita. He somehow found consolation in the arms of Elizabeth. But neither politician nor courtesan thought that they would end up falling in love. For the first time it appeared that Elizabeth was in love with one of her clients, and he loved her back. However, years of drinking, gambling, and womanizing didn't leave Fox with enough money to sustain Elizabeth's pricey lifestyle. She resisted his advances but finally gave in and by 1783 she settled down to a monogomous relationship with Fox. In 1795 they secretly wed. Who would have thought that these two party animals could settle down and become models of marital bliss? But there they were in their cosey London home, hosting dinners and gardening. Yes, gardening!

Fox surprised everyone in 1802, including his best friends, when he revealed that he and Elizabeth had been married for seven years. His true friends, like Georgiana, warmly accepted the "fallen" woman knowing the strength of the couple's love. When Fox lay on his deathbed four years later his last words were to his beloved wife, "It don't signify my dearest, dearest Liz." Although, heartbroken, the ever-independent Elizabeth went on to live for many years, watching many of her and her husbands friends pass into the next world. She died at the ripe old age of 91 in 1842.

For more information on Elizabeth and Fox's love story check out Scandalous Women.


*The papers liked to refer to courtesans as if they were boats, because many men boarded them. This is how the nickname for Elizabeth came to be.

Thursday, October 30, 2008

Happy Halloween!

As you may have noticed from my other Halloween post, Halloween is my favourite Holiday so I would like to wish you fun and fancy and this night of ghouls, goblins and, of course, candy! In celebration, let's explore some creepy 18th century art by two of the best; the Spanish artist Fransico Goya and the Swiss-British Artist Henry Fuseli.


Fuseli, The Nightmare, 1781
Goya, The Dream of Reason Brings Forth Monsters, 1799

Fuseli, The Three Witches, 1783

Goya, The Witches' Sabbath, 1798

For more 18th century macabre works, be sure to check out The Tate's past exhibition, Gothic Nightmares. The Tate has been so kind as to have left a virtual tour of the exhibition on their site so you can view the works they had on view. You know I love it because it has many fun satirical pieces!

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

For Sale

More bookspotting for tonight! Yale University Press is having a 50% off selected books sale. My personal recommendation: The Notorious Muse: The Actress in British Art and Culture 1776-1812. Don't miss out on these deals either!

For Sale


I just recently added a fun widget to my sidebar of some of my favorite book recommendations. After I refreshed my blog and was playing with the widget, I noticed that one of the books I added, City of Laughter by Vic Gatrell is currently on sale for only $7.99!! Now I don't know Vic, but I was lucky enough to have gone to his lecture on the book in question, and I just have to promote buying this book from Amazon right now because it is an absolute steal! I paid a lot more for it (£35 I think!) and was happy to do so because this book is chuck-full of great information on all the scandals in England in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. Gatrell studies the various scathing satirical prints that circulated London during this time. Over 600 pages, most with colour illustrations, talk of some of our favorite subjects including Lady Worsley, The Learned Pig, and Mary Bowes all while examing the aesthetic and comedic technique of the satirical artists of the time. Gatrell's book is like an 18th century tabloid encyclopedia. It's a fun read, and a good reference to have in your library.