Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
selenak: (Émilie du Chatelet)
[personal profile] lirazel asked me about a fascinating historical person or moment which deserves to be better known. A previous reply to a similar question was Fritz Bauer, but there are plenty more, and I'm happy to supply, going for a moment involving a person this time. Well, two, but E.T.A. Hoffmann isn't exactly unknown. (To recapitulate the barest essentials about Hoffmann important for this entry: German poet/composer/jurist; if you haven't read anything of his, think Edgar Allen Poe decades before there was Poe. They also shared an addiction and steady employment problem. Chances are that if you're into opera, you might now, if not Hoffmann's own opera Undine, then Jacques Offenbach's Les Contes de Hoffmann, in which he's a main character, though the libretto isn't based on Hoffmann's life but on various of his short stories. If you're into ballet, you're familiar with Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker Suite, which again is based on a novella by Hoffmann. Like most writers not just of his age, Hoffmann couldn't live from his writings, and certainly not from his compositions, so he intermittently worked as a civil servant and jurist for the Prussian state, which is highly relevant to the story I'm about to tell.

On the other hand, hardly anyone today knows who Helmina von Chezy was. Like Hoffmann, she was a Prussian born at the eve of Frederick the Great's reign. Unlike him, she already had a very unorthodox background. Her parents were divorced, she was partly raised by her grandmother who was one of the rare female writers to publish in the German states; Helmina herself wrote her first novel at age 14. She married with sixteen but got divorced within the year. Then, after her mother had died, she went to Paris in 1801. Here it's important to remember the political situation at the time: France is ruled by Napoleon as Emperor, the HRE has been officially dissolved, several German states are de facto clientele states of France. Not Prussia, but Prussia is about to face major humiliation in 1806 by being repeatedly defeated in battle. Helmina worked as a correspondent for various German newspapers, published and edited French Miscelleana, and promptly ran afoul of Napoleonic censorship because of her critical attitude. On the bright side, she also befriended the Schlegels while in Paris, had an affair with Adalbert von Chamisso (with whom she also published a French-to-German translation of August Wilhelm Schlegel's Parisian lectures), and met her second husband, orientalist Wilhelm von Chezy, whom she married in 1805, a marriage which produced several children. However, it wasn't happy, either, so she separated from him as well and given the censorship trouble dodging her, she returned to the German states. During the wars against Napoleon and afterwards, Helmina, like many a Prussian woman, volunteered as a nurse in the military hospitals for the wounded. Where was horrified to find that the medical conditions were horrible and the care of the Prussian state for the wounded and crippled veterans even once the wars had been won practically non existent. Unlike most, however, Helmina von Chezy the journalist decided to do something about it in 1816 and wrote an open indignant letter to Prussian general and army reformer von Gneisenau. The result, however, wasn't an improvement in hospital conditions but Helmina von Chezy getting sued by the Berliner Invaliden-Prüfungskomission for slander of the Prussian army. In a first trial, she was condemned to a year in prison, to bearing the costs for the trial and to pay the sum of 500 Taler as an additional punishment.

Helmine von Chezy went the next higher judical institution, which was the Kammergericht in Berlin, headed, you guessed it, by none other than E.T.A. Hoffmann. Hoffmann looked at the case, and concluded she should be fully acquitted, with the state bearing her expenses. This, however, was not cool with the Prussian Attorney General. She'd insulted the army! She should shut up! So he demanded yet another retrial, and in due course the case arrived at Hoffmann's doorstep again. Who, see above, really needed the job. But he still thought Chezy was right, and decided in her favor. By then, the publicity was such that the state capitulated, she was free and recompensed, and the hospital conditions even improved a little.

The reminde rof Helmine von Chezy's life is more depressing; she remained one of the few freelance female writers and even wrote the libretto for a Weber opera, but fell out with one of her sons, and when the other, her favourite, died, the one she had argued with who was also a writer made it impossible for her to get another job as a journalist since he was already employed at the journals she had old contacts with. She ended up near blind, destitute and only living from a small pension from a charity for male and female writers. Weber, who had collaborated with her on an opera, in a letter once described her as a "good writer, but an insufferable woman". But even her enemies did not doubt she had the courage of her convictions, and stood by them in two of the most policed states of the era (France and Prussia). She persisted, and in one remarkable moment of history, because the man who could make a decision on this wasn't just a remarkable writer and an alcoholic but also someone who wanted to see justice done, she prevailed.

The other days
selenak: (Default)
Save for one nitpick, this is actually the story I was expecting last year's disappointing miniseries The Devil's Whore to be: the English Civil War from a general pro-revolutionary perspective, with interesting, engaging characters on both sides (and of both genders), told suspenseful and, not surprising considering this is the author of the Falco mysteries, with humour (which doesn't blend out the true horror of war). Despite the use of an old fashioned omniscient narrative voice, it keeps the story and the readers with the original characters - Charles I, Cromwell et al are only observed by them from a far and very, very occasionally a bit closer, when the characters are - and you can follow the politicis of the time even if you don't know much about them beforehand. Generally speaking, I also think Davis plays fair. While it didn't escape my notice we get atrocities by the Royalists early on up close (because several pov characters are present) whereas we get Cromwell's atrocities in Ireland only by report (because no pov character goes with Cromwell to Ireland; they only learn about what's going on second hand), the viciousness of the later - and the impact it has for centuries to come - is made quite clear and made more harmless.

The main characters are: Gideon Jukes, printer and occasional soldier and spy for the Parliamentarian side, Juliana Lovell, wife of a mostly absent Royalist who has to get her children and herself through the wars without support, her husband, the very pragmatic and quite shades-of-grey Orlando Lovell (who, being a deeply practical fellow, rather resents the poetic first name his parents have inflicted on him, btw), and a character on no one's side who changes her name a lot throughout the story but starts out nicknamed Kinchin, a scavenger girl who goes through being a thief, highway robber, prisoner, very briefly whore but always able to escape into the next identity and the next career. There are a great many memorable supporting characters as well, such as Gideon's sister-in-law and brother (who become involved with the Levellers and Ranters respectively), or the Irishwoman Juliana befriends at Oxford, Nerissa. One highlight is the scene where Juliana, being utterly out of funds and with the Royalist cause looking really badly, shows up at her husband's family only to find out they view him as the black sheep who is better off in captivity, are Parliamentarians and have their own worries with his crippled-by-war older brother to boot. If you're familiar with the fun Davis has in her Falco novels with Falco's extended family, you can imagine how well she does these kind of family scenes; and to watch Juliana, with the odds so severely against her, figure out a way to get some money out of this situation anyway is a joy to read.

Speaking of Juliana and her husband: in a way, this is the most original relationship of the novel, because it's neither a passionate love affair nor a horrible enforced marriage, those two stallwarts of historical novels. She has his measure early on - he's charming (both to her and their children) when around, but not to be relied upon when not there, which is two thirds of the the time, and the fact he sticks with the Royalist side of things even after it starts to be clear the Parliamentarians are going to win is less due to him believing in the Royalist cause than to him, who left home early and basically grew up in the European Thirty-Years-War, knowing he's good at fighting and preferring to stay that way. He, for his part, married her among other reasons precisely because he knew she'd be self reliant if necessary and enjoys their barbed banter and the advantage of having a wife to rely on and children without the actual day-to-day trouble of raising them. In a way, it's the reverse of the Gone With The Wind formula (because Juliana got woed at first by Orlando's idealistic best friend Edmund, but went for the cynical Orlando instead); Scarlett starts with Rhett, discovers Rhett isn't all that, keeps Ashley as a best friend, and ends up with Will (a character from the novel who isn't in the movie; a soldier the O'Hara's take in post-War who ends up becoming Scarlett's brother-in-law and managing Tara).

Which brings me to my one nitpick in a roundabout way. Considering Gideon and Juliana are announced on the back of the novel as the main characters, it's a no brainer to assume that at some point, they'll meet and end up together. They do meet - after two thirds of the novel are already over. Then we go through the falling in love and ending up together part very quickly. Now Lindsey Davis can write romance (see Falco and Helena Justina), and this is all very enjoyable to read; also, Juliana deciding that as once again she's in a situation where she doesn't know whether Orlando is alive or dead and hasn't heard from him for years, she's going to regard herself as a widow and free to marry again makes much sense. As we didn't actually get a scene where Orlando Lovell dies (and he is a main character), it's also easy to guess that he's not actually dead (but rather in Holland with young Charles II et al) and will show up at the most inconvenient moment later on, and that this will make the dramatic denouement of the novel. And it does, which I haven't got a problem with, but I do have a problem with the way it happens. As this concerns the ending directly, and I hate being spoiled for the ending, I'll put it below a cut.

If you don't mind being spoiled for the very ending, read on! )

This one problem I had aside, I thoroughly enjoyed the book. I think my favourite character is the ever name changing Kinchin who makes an art of survival on the bottom of the Civil War and ultimately manages to carve out a place for herself she can be content with, but I also have much affection for the rest of them. With one reservation highly recommended.

Profile

selenak: (Default)
selenak

July 2025

S M T W T F S
  1234 5
67 89101112
131415161718 19
20 21222324 2526
2728293031  

Most Popular Tags

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Style Credit

Page generated Jul. 26th, 2025 02:22 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios