The Last Armada
A Spanish invasion force, already crippled by punishing storms that had separated it from most of its troops and supplies, landed at the Irish harbor of Kinsale on September 21, 1601. The Spanish troops intended to battle their way through Ireland with the support of a population that Irish expatriates assured them was eager to fight for the Catholic king of Spain and then conquer England from the west. Instead they found themselves besieged by English forces in an indefensible harbor town, waiting for allies and reinforcements that never came.
In The Last Armada: Queen Elizabeth, Juan del Águila and the 100-Day Spanish Invasion of England, Irish journalist Des Ekin tells the story of the failed Spanish invasion from the perspectives of not only the English and Spanish commanders but their Irish allies. Ekin establishes his major characters—General Juan del Águila of Spain, Charles Blount of England, and Irish chieftain Hugh O’Neill—as the heroes of their own stories and places them firmly in their very different cultural milieus. Many of the secondary characters, including an English femme fatale, a Jesuit secret agent, and a Franciscan priest determined to run the invasion in the name of God, are equally vivid on the page. The result is an even-handed account of a critical event in Irish history that has often been the subject of “bitter recriminations, laments or partisan rants”.
The Last Armada is a historical page-turner with acts of heroism, betrayal, espionage, self-aggrandizement and self-sacrifice.
This review appeared previously in Shelf Awareness for Readers.
Did Civil War nurses have uniforms?
A Brief Commercial: I will be speaking about Civil War nurses at the Lyceum in Alexandria, Virginia on Thursday, February 4. (Here’s the link to the details–please note the snow date. I’m hoping Alexandria has had it’s share of snow for the winter, but you never know.) If any of you live in the area, I’d love to see you there. If you have friends in the area who might be interested, please spread the word. For that matter, spread the word about the program the night before as well. Civil War medical historian Von Barron is speaking on the medical knowledge of the period. I’m looking forward to it.
And now, back to our regularly scheduled blog post and the question of nursing uniforms:
If you poke around the Internet looking for pictures of Civil War nurses for any length of time, you find pictures of youngish women in identical dresses with white caps and aprons identified as Civil War nurses. Every time I see them I want to pound my fist on my desk and say “No! No! No!”
The pictures are wrong in so many ways. For one thing, the dresses have the wrong silhouette for the period.* The dresses are frequently white. And in a few egregiously wrong cases, the women are wearing Red Cross armbands. (As a reminder, Clara Barton founded the American Red Cross in 1881–fifteen years after the end of the war.)
The fact of the matter is that, with the exception of the several hundred nuns who served, the women who volunteered as nurses did not wear uniforms. They definitely didn’t wear spiffy white dresses.**
Instead they looked more like this:
Dorothea Dix had a strict dress code for her nurses. They were to wear brown, gray, or black dresses: practical choices given the inevitable exposure to blood, pus, vomit, and other filth in a hospital of that day and the heroic efforts required to do laundry in the nineteenth century.*** Bows, curls, jewelry, and especially hoop skirts and crinolines were forbidden. Again, a practical requirement. Hospitals were crowded and the aisles were too narrow for women in fashionably wide skirts to walk through them. In at least one case, a wounded soldier is reported to have bled to death when the crinoline worn by a female visitor caught on his cot and tore open his wound. ****
Nurses who served on the United States Sanitary Commission’s hospital transit ships weren’t bound by Dix’s restrictions, but they soon recognized the practical value of her rules given the realities of life on the ships. Many of them arrived wearing the ribbons and ruffles typical of women of their class, but they soon abandoned frilly dresses in favor of a skirt and a man’s flannel shirt, worn with the collar open, the sleeves rolled up, and the shirttail out. They dubbed the shirts “Agnews,” after the doctor from whom they stole the first shirt.
Even the “Agnew “was a long way from the practicality of this:
Modern nursing field uniform, courtesy of US Army Medical Department, Office of Medical History
My guess is that Miss Dix would have approved.
*Leg o’mutton sleeves were popular in the 1830s and again in the 1890s, but not in the 1860s.
**And speaking of spiffy white dresses, I cannot believe that Emma Green in the first episode of Mercy Street got out of the hospital with that white wedding cake of a dress untainted except for a little blood on the skirt. Just like I don’t believe Mary Phinney von Olnhausen could get through her first day the hospital with every hair still in place. (Of course, that may be because I can’t get through a quiet day at my desk without my hair standing all anyhow.)
***Perhaps the subject of a future blog post. What say you, Margin-ites?
****This may be a nineteenth century urban legend: I’ve seen many accounts of this incident, all phrased in similarly cautious terms and none of them attributed to a specific contemporary source.
Eternity Street: Violence and Justice in Frontier Los Angeles
Historian John Mack Faragher has spent his career writing about frontiers in general and the American West specifically. In Eternity Street: Violence and Justice in Frontier Los Angeles, he considers the structure and culture of violence in a frontier society, how violence reproduces and polices itself in a so-called “honor culture,”* and the slow development of an official justice system in Los Angeles in the mid-nineteenth century. The result is a fascinating look at the competing forces of official justice and vigilantism as southern California moved from Mexican to American control.
Drawing on a combination of official records, contemporary newspaper accounts, personal papers, memoirs and autobiographies, Faragher tells individual stories of murder, retaliation, domestic violence, racism and greed. At the same time, he never loses sight of the larger history of the region. He sets detailed accounts of conflicts between individuals within the contexts of the conquest of southern California by first Mexico and then the United States, the Texas rebellion, the American Civil War** and the gold rush of 1848.
This is not the American West of American fable. Faragher’s Los Angeles is a frontier outpost with no white-hatted heroes and plenty of ethnic conflict. Native Americans newly freed from control of the missions, native angeleños, African-American slaves and freedmen, North American adventurers, and the United States Army and Navy compete for resources, political control, and women with blades, guns and lances.***
Eternity Street is an ugly story, beautifully told.
*We’ve seen this concept before here in the Margins. It’s easy to idealize honor culture in the past:medieval knights, eighteenth century duelists, and samurai warriors all enjoy a certain glamour in popular culture. A quick look at how it plays out in street gangs makes it clear that honor culture centers on male violence. It’s cock fighting, with men instead of roosters.
**And you thought I’d taken a break from the Civil War!
*** At one point in the narrative, the United States Army and Navy came close to armed conflict with each other over who was in charge, suggesting an honor culture of a different variety.
Most of this review previously appeared in Shelf Awareness for Readers.