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Death and sorrow in eighteenth-century English family


Johannes Christiaan Bendorp (1776 - 1825): Dichter Jan Zoet ligt ziek in bed en Machteld Klaas van Medemblik spreekt hem toe terwijl de Dood wenkt, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

What children knew about death? Were they kept away when death occurred? How they felt losing their parents or siblings? These are the questions I have come across while searching the experience of eighteenth-century English girls. Several historians have already shown that early modern and eighteenth-century parents loved their children and grieved for their deaths. No matter how young or sickly the child was, its loss had an impact. However, there is little research of the emotions of the young people.

Death was, in the end, an ever-present visitor in eighteenth-century household. Enquiries after health were not empty decorum, but echoed real concern. The illnesses of parents and other family members deserved remark from the young as well. 22-year-old Maria Josepha Holdroyd reported her friend that her step-mother had been ill. She had “Fever and violent Pain in her Side, with incessant cough.” Absent family members were informed how the illnesses developed. 15-year-old Emily Lennox wrote to her father in 1746 that her “Dear Mama is thank God perfectly well, she walked about the Room to Day and finds herself much stronger than usual.”

The harsh realities of life did, indeed, go both ways. It is estimated that child death rate in England between 1500 and 1820 was 0,187 pro mille, whereas between 1600 and 1750 a quarter of youths under 15 years and a third of those under 20 had lost at least one parent, sometimes even both. In the latter part of the eighteenth century the mortality rate declined. 20 per cent of those under 15 and a quarter of those under 20 had lost their parent(s).

As death was a frequent visitor in all eighteenth-century families, even children knew illness might easily lead to death. It duly caused concern even in the minds of the young. Even a possible prospect of a parent dying or being injured caused great anxiety. An unexpected death could also badly injure the prospects of the family. If the father died young or with little economical means his younger children would have to make their fortunes themselves unless the heir was willing or capable of providing for them. For unmarried girls, the death of a father meant that they had to throw themselves to the mercies of their eldest brother and heir or other relatives to provide themselves. The situation was even worse if the heir was a minor.

Little Melesina Chenevix lost both of her parents before she was four and was traumatized to such extent that she lost all remembrance of the event. It is, however, possible that a four-year-old could not remember much in any case. Mary Berry was also four when she lost her mother in 1767. When contemplating afterwards the event in her diary, Mary stated she had no recollection “of the excessive grief of my father and grandmother” or of her “own irreparable loss”. She assumed she was kept away from them. The sickness of Lady Sheffield, Maria Josepha Holroyd’s step-mother led eventually to death in April 1793. Maria’s younger sister Louisa had been visiting her aunt in Bath when the death occurred. The girl had “relieved herself by some hours' crying.”

Unusual, emotional events are easily remembered than more neutral everyday ones, so it is no wonder that these kinds of incidents are most often recorded in letters, diaries and autobiographies. Parental death is one of the most devastating of these. According to Joanne Bailey, eighteenth-century life-writers pinpointed the death of a parent having the most profound consequences for them.

Losing a sibling was not easier to handle. As Amy Harris has pointed out, sibling relations were the long-lasting human relation a person in the eighteenth century could have. Siblings grew up together, and despite some significant age-difference, ties were close. It is now wonder, then, that Fanny Burney stayed up all night beside her sister’s sick bed. She was in agony lest her sister should die. When her half-sister died some years later, Fanny consoled herself with the fact that the girl had been nursed properly and not neglected.

I would argue that, death had major emotion impact on the young and that they were fully aware of its consequences both economic and social. But loving emotions within eighteenth-century family is evident.

Henna Karppinen-Kummunmäki

FM, doctoral candidate, cultural history, University of Turku



Further reading and cited sources


  • Bailey, Joanne: Parenting in England, 1760–1830. Emotion, Identity, & Generation. Oxford: Oxford University Press 2012.
  • Cooper, Sheila: Kinship and welfare in early modern England. Sometimes charity begins at home. Medicine, Charity and Mutual Aid. The Consumption of Health and Welfare in Britain c. 1550-1950. Anne Borsay & Peter Shapely (eds.)Aldershot, Ashgate 2007, 55–69.
  • Fletcher, Anthony: Growing up in England: The Experience of Childhood, 1600‒1914. New Haven & London: Yale University Press, 2010[2008].
  • Harris, Amy: Siblinghood and social relations in Georgian England. Share and share alike. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2012.
  • Kaartinen, Marjo: Arjesta ihmeisiin. Eliitin kulttuurihistoriaa 1500–1800-luvun Euroopassa. Tammi, Hämeenlinna 2006.

Love, marriage and filial duty in eighteenth-century England


Reinier Vinkeles: Young couple talking with an old man and a woman, 1798, Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

Love is a wonderful and powerful thing, at its best a source of life-long happiness that unites people and generations, and at its worst, a source of excruciating pain that can rip them apart. Despite the universal nature of this feeling, love is not without a history. While writing my PhD thesis on the experience of elite girlhood in eighteenth-century England, I have got to know a young girl that had struggled, like we all have I believe, with the mixed expectations of personal happiness and societal and parental demands. What these expectations are, vary in time.

In 1796 18-year-old Elizabeth (Betsey) Wynne met a young naval officer Captain Fremantle. In her diary, she described her sweetheart’s “fiery black eyes” as “quite captivating.” So he was wonderful in looks and character and she wondered if he thought of her as much as she thought of him. The infatuated girl declared: “poor me, I am in great distress for I cannot help confessing I love that man with all my heart.” She could hardly live without him.

The course of love never ran smoothly. Betsey had to part with her beloved Captain for some months and was left uncertain as to his intentions. After all, it was not advisable for a young lady to take the initiative in courtship. Although she had received a ring from him and a wish to find her in his return “just the same as I am now”, the engagement was not formally settled with her parents. Despite her feelings, Betsey acknowledged that his lack of money, a thing that would hopefully be settled with his battle expedition, was a thing that would hinder her parents’ consenting to the match. A man, who could not support his wife, was not a good candidate. To add her misery, an unpleasant rival also appeared on the scene. She was worried that her father would accept a proposal from a man not of her liking.

Disobedience towards parents was not an option for a daughter, if not very easy to a son as well. At least it usually had some serious consequences. Eighteenth-century society was strictly hierarchical and family was the society in miniature. At least in theory, the father of the household had the ultimate power and children were expected to obey their elders. Respect towards parents was the most important duty. It was no wonder then, that Betsey dreaded the prospect of conflict between filial duty and her own feelings.

When Betsey learned of her Captain’s return she was “counting the days hours, and minutes and find that time passes very slowly”. She was still anxious about her parents’ resistance. It seems that Mr. Wynne changed his mind constantly and kept his daughter on the edge. Even her mother told her that she was “not in the least engaged to him, and that the matter is far from being settled.” Even contrary to her own feelings, Betsey was not ready to act against her parents’ wish. Historians have widely argued, whether the eighteenth-century saw the rise of more individual choice in marital issues and the decline of parental authority. As this little snapshot from the very end of the century indicates, love was not the only foundation in forming a satisfactory relationship. In elite families, whether genteel or aristocratic, parental authority may not have been forced upon, but it still had major impact. It was not worth the risk to lose the social connections provided by family ties for romantic passion.

The story had a happy ending. Betsey married her Captain January 12th 1797.

I want to express my gratitude to Professor Elaine Chalus for introducing me to Betsey.

Henna Karppinen-Kummunmäki

FM, doctoral candidate, cultural history, University of Turku



Further reading:

  • Tague, Ingrid H.: Women of Quality. Accepting and contesting ideals of femininity in England, 1690−1760. The Boydell Press, Woodbridge & Rochester 2002.
  • Vickery, Amanda: The Gentleman’s Daughter. Women’s lives in Georgian England. New Haven & London. Yale University Press (1998) 1999.