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Information on Victorian England please

Eevee

Eevee

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Hi all,

I have memories of being a child in Victorian England, where I died at the age of 12. I lived in what I think was a family with standing.

Now recently I got a memory of this life where I was at the age of 7-8. I could see my mother, she was highly pregnant. I put my hand on her belly and could feel it was very hard. I could hardly wait for the baby to be born, because I think I longed very much for a little brother or sister. (From other memories I know I had a little brother in that life, whom I loved very much)

Now I wondered, was it normal that in that life my mother made me aware of the baby in her belly? Was pregnancy spoken openly about then in a high class family?
I am a bit confused about this memory, because I thought in those times in a 'decent' family those subjects might have been taboo. Anyone can help me out? Thanx.


Eevee
 
Since I had a very good life in Victorian Britain, I somehow feel urged to write a few words here. I am not quite sure on how pregnancy was dealt with in Victorian England, yet I have a feeling that, within the family, it was seen as the beautiful thing it really is. Many things were indeed taboo during this era, and I guess pregnancy as well, officially. But within the family, is a totally different thing.

I shall try to see if I can find out some historical information on this issue. The above is only my spontaneous reaction.

Cheers.
 
I have no memories (that I would trust, anyway) of the Victorian era. But I have always been interested in the 19th century. Both my parents were children in late Victorian times. Their stories reveal families torn by the same dysfunctions of today,addiction, violence and sexual abuse, but with a far higher value placed on both sublimation and public image.

The Victorians had a very rich sexual underworld of clubs and brothels. There were probably more street prostitutes per square block in London than there are now. (There are a lot now.)It was understood that well to do men patronized them.

Victorian women's fashions are interesting in terms of repression. The two great innovations of the century could be seen as sex-denying. The hoop skirt made a great space around thighs and genitals; the bustle around the buttocks. Looking at my mother as a Victorian upper middle class 'trainee' I would have to say that no human bodily functions were directly referred to. I never heard such words as 'pregnant,' 'constipated,' 'snot.' 'spit,' 'urine,' 'excrement' 'penis', 'vagina' 'anus' etc. It was as if the body parts together with their functions did not exist. When it was absolutely required that one be referred to, the most harmless, flat and indirect euphemism was used, i.e. 'weewee' for penis. If a doctor had to be consulted then embarassed gestures and hand motions took the place of descriptive words.

My father on the other hand was working class. He had the same inhibitions about overt references to sex and body parts (when quite sober) but could also be bawdy and was always profane, 'bugger' being his favorite expletive as it was generally in his class and is with the English working class today. The word means, literally, 'one who engages in **** ********** '. How odd that a word as highly charged as that one should have become practically the common currency of British profanity, in a society where 'polite' people were discouraged from so much as admitting to having bowel movements.

I guess a good word for Victorian manners would be 'conflicted.'
The hypocrisy of a massive sex industry existing right next to the ban on all reference to bodily functions created the anger and rebellion which resulted in the 'naturalism' movement in art and literature at the end of the 19th century, and has animated the ever-deeper reactions since, from the 'Roaring Twenties' right through to the radically over-sexualized art, literature and movies of today.

Cheerio
Howard
 
It would seems so, wouldn't it? After I posted I thought, "MY God, they'll think I must be a hundred years old." But not so. My grandfather was born in Bromsgrove, England near Dudley, Worcestershire in--hold your breath--1851! At the age of 39 in 1889 he had my father who married in 1911 and had seven sons of whom I am the youngest, born in 1935, when my mother was 45 and my father 46. My parents came to the US just before WWI. (I have found them, together with my two oldest brothers, listed in the passenger manifest of the "Mauritania," for 1914, sister ship of the ill-fated "Lusitania.")

I was born--not as a mere afterthought but as an outright mistake--in 1935. My other brothers were so much older that I have a nephew older than I am. They were so much older that I was in effect an only child, since the last of them moved out when I was just 6, WWII being on and they having joined the armed services.

Thus the math: I am 67, in good shape, use my Bowflex 4 times a week, am 6 foot 2, weigh a solid 225, do a lot of volunteer work of different sorts and am, since my formal retirement, learning to write novels. I have written five, each one better than the last, and believe the next one will be attractive to agents and very publishable. The editor I hired says I'm a good writer, just need more awareness of structure.So that is the "plan."

But as we know, we only really have today. My friend says, "Live each day as if it were your last, and one day you won't be disappointed."

Love in a time of global heartbreak
Howard
 
Thank you all for your comments. I think Le Sage is right, that things that might be taboo for the outside world, were not taboo in the family.


Eevee
 
Hey Howard. I write too and have a novel going as well. In Swedish. It'll be the greatest bestseller since the Bible. :) Writing seems to be some disease among us who believe in Reincarnation.

Cheers.
 
La, Howard! :)

We have something in common. My grandfather came to the United States from Ireland in 1870, and my Great-grandparents were teenagers during the Great Famine. I was born in 1952.
It's amazing the kind of time stretch that being the late life child of a late life child can achieve!

It also fascinates me that this is probably why I have such a clear attachment to Irish music and language. I didn't pick it up from my mother, who did not get to know her father, and Irish culture was not part of her older siblings life, either. I don't recall any Irish lifetime (though I had a Scottish one). Yet I seem to have a strong blood memory of Ireland, and so did my mother. Have you considered the possibility of blood memory, rather than a reincarnational memory?

Sandra
 
Good morning Sandra

Yes, I think there is something to be said for what you have termed 'blood memory.' I feel British in many ways, have a strong attachment to England and things English, and in my early life practically disappeared into the English 18th century. I guess I could suspect from this I may have had a past life then but I have no memories, dreams or intimations of one. Unlike many on the board I really don't have anything but little deja vu glimmers that come and go in a flash and leave me wondering if they are from this life or some other, but not feeling it is important to find out.Thanks for your comments.

Smiles in an age of tears
Howard
 
Eevee,


In my Victorian family it was not discussed, it was known about, but not discussed more than necessary. That may have been because even though my parents' generation had many children, in our generation, among my siblings, we found it nearly impossible to bear living children. I can't even locate the graves of those that were born and died as infants. I don't know why. I keep looking.
 
Victorian girl


I have lived in first half of Victorian era in England probably in city Dover. Once they photographed me in some room. It I was little girl approximately eight years old and photographing started around year 1839 so it could be in 40s, 50s or 60s.


I was playful child with dirty blond hair after shoulder length and blue eyes. I used to be with parents and sister in my age in our house - looked how smaller castle with beautiful garden. Parents belonged to better off.


Some day I was walking at garden. We had there well. I leaned over well and of unfortunate coincidence I fell into empty well. My hands were bloody. Around me were rats. I cried. I've been waiting until they find me. It was minutes... so long... Well was dark. Only light through roundish hole funneled inwards. Eventually sister found me. Father pulled me. I cried on his arms.


I liked looking in the mirror on my beautiful face. Another time I have played with scary doll, appeared antiquities, looked family photographies... I died in young age because in 1880s already I have lived new life in Ceylon.
 
A quick thread jack and four comments to Howard and Le Sage


1. Read what your wrote out loud. It is an amazing editorial tool.


2. Skip mainstream publishers at first, go to ebooks and publish yourself. There are formatting videos on youtube.


3. Let me know when you publish tales from the Victorian era. I love that stuff!


4. Good luck! wine**
 
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