…. god’s will be done be sure born a girl. Miss Catharine Rossiter writes from Dieppe to her sister in Dublin 1816

 

I am looking over someone’s shoulder but two hundred years later. Quite recently married Mrs Cecilia Byrne in Dublin is reading a long four page, cross-written and dreadfully scrawled letter from her unmarried sister Catharine Rossiter currently in Dieppe but on her way to Paris. They are two of the four Roman Catholic Rossiter sisters, three of whom never marry and all of whom die in Ireland. Despite the physical distance, they are close – Catharine opens beautifully with “My dear Cecilia I love you dearly”. But bent to the task of transcription, I fail to notice that Catharine may be doing more than expressing the evident frustration and annoyance which occupies much of the letter. She may also be teasing, ironising, putting on a fake persona to amuse, joking, and more seriously, thinking about her possible futures.

Twenty-seven-year-old Catharine is travelling just over a year after the end of the Napoleonic Wars in British-occupied northern France accompanied, as I read the letter, by a female companion (Ellen) and a maid (Moore). They are in some unclarified way teamed up with Mme. Douge who will travel on with them and who has an address in Paris to which letters for Catharine can be sent. I assumed at first that Catharine had some reason for her journey but she is not in a hurry and there is probably no more purpose than that which any voluntary traveller has.

In Dieppe she is being harassed by importunate soldiers who she and her companion rebuff but at the same time she describes with some interest intimate encounters between men and women at the beach and is perhaps less shockable than her brother in law James, “I was ashamed to see it what would James say, he who thought the rock bathing too public” - a reference to Dublin’s Forty Foot, now most familiar to those who have read the opening of Joyce’s Ulysses.

She expresses evident pride in managing successfully a financial transaction worth about £5000 in today’s money. The more I read her words the more I feel she is also thinking about her future. She may or may not like men in general or individual ones in particular but is definitely not keen on the fraught task of giving birth to children. Her sister has already done it twice. The first baby promptly died, she is now breast feeding the second, and is pregnant with the third. Catharine comments, “so you are in Bed [pregnant] again well that is a great shame for you I thought you would miss six months but god’s will be done be sure born a girl”. But she likes babies, “your little button [baby] must console you for every thing. I wish I could see it - is it as pretty as it promised”.

This is the background to a piece of humour at the end of the letter which I completely failed to notice and which sent me off on quite the wrong track. She writes, “Good bye my love as soon as my child is weaned I intend to send for him so you may tell him so …. I have no more to say but that I send my blessing to my child”. Totally unambiguous?  No. Dr Angela Byrne pointed out to me that “my child” could be used for “my godchild” and Catharine is teasing: Cecilia is allocated the work of birthing and breast feeding; spared those tasks Catharine will happily take delivery of the infant. It is highly unlikely that Cecilia has in mind to despatch her child to France.

Catharine and her two unmarried sisters travelled together in Europe for extended periods; in the 1830s they turn up staying in Naples. A study of their lives would be rewarding; whether they might end up being classed as early feminists or simply independent minded women, I can’t say.

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Transcription

Addressed to: Mrs Byrne    Byrnes Hill    Dublin   Ireland

Datelined: September 19^th 1816

My dear Cecilia I love you Dearly

This morning only we received that odious Barnewall’s letter with the order for fifty pounds his letter was dated the 13^th so the gentleman did not hurry himself all the apology he made is that he thought we were at Rouen. I am sure I don’t know what put it in his head – he sent the bill to a ……. here instead of sending it to us, that we might make as little as possible by it & that all his investments might profit. We are however to get the cash today at twelve o’clock, we were at the bank already – you can’t think what a fright we were in all this time past we have been living on credit so you may suppose there is a large hole made in the fifty pounds – however we go to Forges [Forges les Eaux, due south of Dieppe, a spa town].  We set out the day after tomorrow as it is the end of our week – Moore has not been well and it is on the way to Paris we think it would be wrong not to try the waters but shall not stop more than ten days – the hotel there is the same price as this - there is no other there for strangers – Your letter of the 8^th came along with Barnewalls and so you are in Bed [ pregnant] again well that is a great shame for you I thought you would miss six months but god’s will be done be sure born a girl.

I am sorry to find Jenny and you asunder again – but your little button [baby] must console you for every thing. I wish I could see it - is it as pretty as it promised.

Our virtue is in the greatest danger here - if we had not received the money today I don’t know what we might be tempted to do. There are two marauders deeply enamoured of our charms – one of them wanted to force his way into our apartment Miss La Rue [their landlady in Dieppe] was obliged to insist on his retiring so he consoles himself by remaining at a window that looks close into our salon & every time we touch the piano we see his whiskers cocked at us - they bought a piano some time ago which has been a great comfort to us. I am only afraid it made us too bewitching & the poor Frenchman’s heart feels the irresistible effect of Melody as he makes open attack on us. We can more easily defend ourselves from his insults but there is an Irishman who appears a more dangerous assaillant – Ellen owned to us some days ago that he has been saying & offering illusions [?] to her this long time but that she was impenetrable – at last he ventured to ask her some pretty close questions to which she answered with fine Hibernian dignity, inwardly pleasing herself on the consequential part she was enacting. At last he bid her tell us that he sent us his love, she came up in such a botheration she has not exorcised it yet. However we can’t go to our balcony without having a pair of eyes fastened on us & all kinds of attitudes done to attract us – this is all that has befallen us as yet.

We never scarcely see the [family name]’s.  Madame came here we were obliged to tell her the reasons of our delay having so often fixed the day of our departure – they are awkward with us. I told her we wd. stop for this week she gave us so cold an invitation to Montigny [ probably Château de Montigny, south of Dieppe occupied by the family of  Charles Henri Dombray (1760-1829)] that I could not bend to accept it. I think it nasty of them never to send us any fruit or flowers…. [hole in letter]

We had broiling hot weather this week past week and as the sea was calm we went in & I with Ellen to the no small annoyance of the bathing men they looked as if they could kill us I think it quite abominable to employ them. I was shocked looking on only I thought first they were beings much as we see here that have scarcely the human shape for there is a race of creatures here male & female that you cannot tell to what gender they belong …. but the bathers are …. as …. many are nice smart lads drest in blue jackets & trousers that skip most gracefully thro the waves – One takes a lady in chemise in his arms like a baby, carries her out ever so far it is about a quarter of an hour before he commits his fair prize to the waters, where they stand a considerable time in a waltzing attitude. I was ashamed to see it what would James say, he who thought the rock bathing too public – we go in the middle of the day as we have the Strand to ourselves at that hour until yesterday – but I was no sooner in the sea yesterday when I saw one of those graceful creatures near me with his lady in his paws looking most grimly at our exploits.

We have been working petticoats for ourselves one of mine is finished & it is beautiful. I work like the wind now that I can. We are between two minds whether we will be in mourning in Paris I am afraid it will make too great a hole in the ready money otherwise it would be convenient to be always neatly dressed. We desired Mrs O’Rourke to write to Forges.

We behaved shabbily to Mme Douge. She has been looking for us and we never wrote to tell her when we would see her. Every night we said well tomorrow the letter will come for we were ashamed to tell her we had no cash. I am afraid she thinks us rude & ill-natured. So if any Barnewalls come to you don’t feed them.

I must go to the bank - I am come back from the bank loaded with silver I got 1250 francs for the 50£ and would have got a great deal more had it come strait but when we are in Paris we shall get more so it would be nice if we could get a letter of credit on Perregaux, Rougemont or any of the varmints there. It is a great pity we did not light on this banker first for he gave us more for our money than the last tho we had English notes – he only gave 5 [?] on each and we were told he would make a shilling. We will owe six hundred francs to la Rue the day after tomorrow. It is very odd the banker got his letter yesterday tho it was the same date as ours. I suppose letters to English people halt [that’s to say, are delayed and possibly read] on the way. Barnewall says not a word of Jenny’s parcel. I am afraid he kept it to cover his naked wife who was in a miserable ragged state the last time I saw her. I suppose he had not a halfpenny when he got our bill & that he sent it in the manner he did to gain time.

 Moore is not at all good. I must complain of her as I have nothing else to fill this long sheet with. She goes out to walk in the dark sometimes we refuse to go with her in hopes she will not go then she takes Ellen & brings her to [ hole in letter] extremities. I don’t know how the poor growdy [obsolete word?] likes it. [hole in letter] I send you this long letter as I don’t know when you will hear from us again. I don’t know what kind of post there is at Forges so don’t growl. I have not heard from Matilda Talbott – I don’t know where they all are but the William Talbotts were very poorly lodged in Paris they were at a fashionable hotel it is true but on the fourth floor. Matilda said she did not know on earth how they managed but they were most admirable at making out cheap ways of living they could not have paid a guinea week each as they are I believe so in family where would they get it.

I suppose you are in deep black were the cousins much shocked at Mr Laffan’s death. I heard your little Miss Stevens in London & think she sings very sweetly – she is quite the fashion – she is the Duke of Devonshire’s favourite – you may tell the wise ones so. [Catherine ‘Kitty’ Stephens, operatic singer at the Theatre Royal Covent Garden 1813-1822; later Countess of Essex but at this earlier date reputed mistress to the Duke].

My pet the banker pursued us to let us know he gave us 25 francs too much which we were obliged to deliver up - so the other poor wretch did not cheat us but I could cry for my 25 francs that I was so proud of. Mme Douge is in her own little den and does not join the Monster who undertakes half the expense on hand she wants us to go for her poor soul but that we cannot do – direct your letter to …. rue de la Paix No. 1, Paris. [Rue de la Paix is one of the avenues leading off the Place Vendome].

Good bye my love as soon as my child is weaned I intend to send for him so you may tell him so. I hope Louisa will come back to you. Are the Tarracks still at Loughlins town? What prevents Miss Lartin [?] from being married now. I am told her suitor is quite a hottentot & never was seen yet with a clean shirt on but her own toilette is not the most recherchee.

I have no more to say but that I send my blessing to my child. I am sure James came back from Ross [New Ross] full of money be good & take care of yourself & be sure send me more money very soon – your own sweet little Clo will you tell Aunt P when you write to her to direct her letter for us to Mme Douge’s I suppose she does not know where to direct.

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Acknowledgment

Dr Angela Byrne burrowed into Irish archives in search of more information about Catharine Rossiter and her family; some exists but is not accessible.

The standout letters written by a woman from France during the Napoleonic Wars are The Letters of Lady Burghersh written from Germany and France during the campaign of 1813 - 1814 (second edition, 1893). Aged twenty, she determined to follow behind her husband deployed as a military attaché at the constantly shifting headquarters of Austrian, Prussian and Russian troops as they moved in clockwise direction from Berlin to Paris, entering that city in April 1814.