Source of book: Audiobook from the library
This is a rather unusual book. It is a fictionalized account of the life of Margaret Cavendish, Duchess of Newcastle, and author. It is fictionalized in the sense that it is in the form of a story, told partly in first person, and then in third person, from her point of view. However, it takes no liberties with the facts as far as I can tell - and indeed throughout the book, her own writing is quoted.
Margaret Cavendish was born in 1923 to a minor aristocratic family, who ended up siding with the Royalists during the English Civil war. In her teens, she became a lady in waiting to Queen Henrietta Marie, and followed her into exile in France.
While there, she met her future husband, William Cavendish, who was in exile (as a Royalist) and poverty.
He was 30 years her senior, had adult children her age, but, in a rather fascinating twist, their marriage apparently was a true love match, with mutual respect and affection. He ended up outliving her by a few years. The great sorrow of their life was her infertility - more on that later.
Margaret Cavendish is not remembered for her marriage, however, but for her writing, personality, and flamboyant style.
In an era when few women wrote, and even fewer wrote under their own names, she wrote extensively - plays, memoirs, poetry, and fiction - and published them boldly.
By her own account, her infertility was a significant factor in her taking up writing. After years of frankly bizarre and disgusting “treatments” by the doctors of the time, she and William resigned themselves that she would never have children. It was a disappointment to both of them.
Margaret found herself with a lot of time on her hands, and very little to do. To alleviate her boredom, she began to write, found she liked it, and devoted herself to it for the rest of her life.
Margaret and William also ran in literary and scientific circles. After the Restoration and return to his lands, William became a significant patron of the arts, most notably sponsoring Ben Jonson. The two of them kept up on the latest scientific papers together, and she discusses them in her writings - in a few cases talking smack about luminaries like Robert Boyle.
Margaret was the first woman ever invited to the Royal Society - that great gathering of the scientific and literary luminaries. Unfortunately, the second woman was not invited until 200 years later, which is a shame.
Of Margaret’s writings, probably the most interesting is The Blazing World, a genre-blending work of fiction that anticipates science fiction, and is considered the first work of utopian fiction by a woman. I am going to try to track down a copy of that.
Dutton’s fictionalized version is a good read (or listen) in this case, bringing to life a rather extraordinary woman, quite the character, radically feminist for her time, and with a unique voice.
Because this was an audiobook, I unfortunately do not have any quotes - although Margaret herself wrote some real zingers.
I do want to mention some of the things I found fascinating.
First is the extended description of the infertility treatments that Margaret endured - including various kinds of shit smeared on her abdomen and used as vaginal suppositories. These are, by the way, taken from her rather frank memoirs.
A note on that as well: our current American prudery which continues to endure, even as its manifestation changes, is more of a Victorian affectation than anything else. Even the Puritans were able to talk about bodily functions without getting their panties in a wad quite the way that we still do.
Another example of that is the fashion of the era. 17th and 18th Century women - the aristocratic ones who could afford fashion over function - went bare-breasted quite often. Doing so was a sign, not of loose morals, but of purity and high social standing. A young woman could signal her virginity - those unspoiled breasts - and older women could demonstrate that they could afford a wet nurse rather than sully her own breasts. It was considered far more risque to display an ankle than a nipple.
This is mentioned several times in the book - Margaret had a tendency to ignore the niceties of fashion, and occasionally showed too much at the wrong time of day - I won’t even pretend to understand all the rules, but high-class fashion has always had arcane rules and social punishments to those who fail to conform.
Significant cleavage was still visible well into the Victorian era. Believe it or not, cleavage was in fashion in the Islamic world during this time as well. In significant ways, certain kinds of prudery are actually very modern.
But, I think it is important to note that clothing fashions are deeply embedded in culture, and change dramatically over time and place. There is no underlying rule that applies to all places and times, regardless of what our modern day misogynists want to believe.
There is also a funny moment in the book involving plays. When Margaret’s writing came out, many dismissed the idea that she could have written them herself, and credited her husband. (They did collaborate to a degree, and it is believed some of her plays were co-written.)
Later, when her literary reputation was established, he published a play anonymously (although everyone knew it was him), which the wags then attributed to her instead.
Margaret Cavendish is one of a number of examples of women who lived unconventionally and fostered their own talents. It is surely not a coincidence that these women tended to have shockingly egalitarian marriages and supportive husbands. (See: Anne Bradstreet) By all accounts, William and Margaret loved each other deeply, and respected each other for their good character and kindness. Even in a hostile culture, egalitarians have always found a way to thrive - both men and women do better as equals rather than subordinates.
Margaret the First is a fun book to read. It isn’t a typical biography, but it isn’t exactly fully fictional either. Dutton brings to life a truly fascinating woman.
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