Queer Achievement: Arms For A Price

[Achievement – the name given in heraldry to the full pictorial representation of a coat of arms.]

It’s been a while since I did an in-depth look at the heraldic achievement of a specific individual, so I’ll rectify that today with a look at the full coat of arms of the British actor Dennis Price (1915-1973). His arms are these –

It’s more than 30 years since I began researching and drawing the coats of arms of famous people. Dennis Price was one of the first ones I did (at about the same time that I did Jeremy Brett’s). I didn’t know at the time that they were both bisexual.

The arms shown above are scanned from my original artwork, which was made before I had access to a computer, which I’ve “tweaked” and tidied up.

Dennis’s full name was Dennistoun Franklin John Rose Price. All except the name John were names of families that feature in his ancestry. I won’t go into the full genealogical profile today but skim through it to tell you where the names came from. Through his paternal grandmother Dennis is descended from the Dennistoun’s of Colgrain near Argyll in Scotland. Franklin is the family name of his paternal great-grandmother (sister of the explorer Sir John Franklin). Rose was the name of the family from whom Dennis’s ancestors inherited Rose Hall on Jamaica (yes, we have to acknowledge that both the Price and Rose families were slave owners). Even though the Dennistoun, Franklin and Rose families all have a coat of arms, none of them were passed down to the Prices through heraldic heirs. This leaves us with just the Price coat of arms.

The Price family is of Welsh origin. Dennis can trace his male line ancestry back with certainty to Capt. Francis Price who was the first member of the family to settle in Jamaica in 1655 after Oliver Cromwell (the Putin of Britain during the, thankfully, brief period when we were a republic) decided to invade Jamaica. Capt. Price probably descended from the Prices of Brecknock in Wales, or at least claimed some family association because the coat of arms granted to Captain Price’s grandson are very similar to theirs. Here are some of the arms known to belong to Price families in the Brecknock area. The earliest, on the left, dates to 1546.

The similarities (spearheads, chevron and black background) do not necessarily indicate a family blood relationship but are frequently adopted and granted with changes, even today, where there is a geographical connection or the same family name.

The specific coat of arms that Dennis Price inherited were granted to an ancestral uncle, the grandson of Capt. Price mentioned above. He was Sir Charles Price (1708-1772), Speaker of the Jamaica House of Assembly, who was created a baronet (hereditary knighthood) in 1768.

The arms were granted to Sir Charles on 13th August 1766 by the College of Arms and included a special limitation, a clause which indicates if other members of the family are allowed to inherit it. This is now common practice. If I were granted a coat of arms it could be extended to include all descendants and heirs of my paternal grandfather. Sir Charles had only one child, a son, who died childless. So, Sir Charles’s youngest brother, John, inherited this coat of arms and passed them down to his descendants, which included his 3-times great-grandson Dennis Price.

Usually, there are other symbolic explanations for every object in a coat of arms. The shield, as I’ve said, is probably to indicate some sort of connection to the Brecknock family. The dragon’s head in the crest was granted specifically to Sir Charles Price and his heirs. It may have been symbolic of the family’s Welsh ancestry. The bloody hand may indicate that Charles was a baronet, as a red hand is the badge of this particular order of knighthood and often appears on a little shield placed somewhere on the main shield.

Next we come to the star and the bird. These are both cadency marks, something placed on a shield to indicate which son in the family you are. I am the third son of my father, so I would have a star. Dennis descends from the third son of the above-mentioned John Price. Added to this, Dennis is descended from that third son’s fourth son (confused?), so he places a special bird called a martlet on top of the star. Technically, new cadency marks would be added generation after generation, but in practice they are often reduced to just one or omitted altogether to stop the arms from becoming cluttered with cadency marks.

Usually, if a husband and wife (now also same-sex married couples) both have a coat of arms they place them side by side on one shield, the husband’s on the viewer’s left (each person in a same-sex marriage can put their own arms on the left and their partner’s on the right). During his brief marriage to Joan Schofield (1920-2017) Dennis Price could have displayed his marital coat of arms as below. Joan’s family name was Temperley, and arms she could have used are those shown on the memorial plaque to her paternal uncle Rev. Canon Arthur Temperley. If there are cadency marks both the husband and wife can omit them, as I’ve shown.

Lastly there is the motto. This is in Welsh and translates as “All Depends on God”.

For heraldry fans, there's my annual Heraldic Alphabet to look forward to in June.

80 More Gays Around the World: Part 15) A Price For Art

Last time on “80 More Gays”: Japanese shogun 39) Tokugawa Tsunayoshi (1646-1709) introduced a festival that originated in an ancient harvest celebration, while over in colonial America the similar Thanksgiving festival was being celebrated by Puritan colonists, including 40) William Plaine (d.1646), a colonist executed for sodomy and an ancestor of 41) Vincent Price (1911-1993).

It is very rare for any white American to be only descended from one Puritan colonist of the early 17th century. 41) Vincent Price, the star of many films who became a horror icon, is no exception. Not only is he descended from 40) William Plaine and several of the other New Haven colonial families but he is also a Mayflower descendant.

This year we commemorate the 400th anniversary of the sailing of the Mayflower and the Pilgrims to America. I’ll write more about the Mayflower Pilgrims and some of their lgbt descendants in September. Much research into Mayflower ancestry has been done by many genealogists over the years. In some respect discovering one of your ancestors was a Mayflower passenger is as much of a bonus for American family historians as finding a descent from royalty is for some of us Brits. Some American have both. But caution must be taken when going online to look for Mayflower ancestry. A lot of research is not based on actual sources and quite often even top professional genealogists have had different opinions.

At this moment in time the only Mayflower passengers that we can prove are direct descendants of Vincent Price are James Chilton (c.1556-1620), his wife (name unknown) who died with her husband in that first winter, and their daughter Mary (1607-1679). Legend says that Mary was the first person to set foot on Plymouth Rock. She married John Winslow, the brother of Mayflower passenger Edward Winslow, later the Governor of Plymouth Colony who approved of the death sentence of William Plaine.

Vincent Price

Vincent Price was one of quite a significant group of male and female Hollywood actors who were lesbian, gay or bisexual, a fact often known to the film studios and hidden from public knowledge behind “lavender” marriages. These marriages were usually arranged by the film studios with the full knowledge of the couple that one, or even both, of them was lgb. Many lavender marriages were arranged specifically to stop rumours in the press about an actor’s sexuality.

In Vincent Price’s case his bisexuality was easier to hide with a marriage. His first two marriages were not lavender marriages, though his last to actor Coral Browne in 1974, effectively, was. This is not to suggest that there was no genuine love between them.

It was Vincent’s daughter 42) Victoria Price (b.1962), herself openly lesbian, who ended speculation on his sexuality in 2014 when her 1999 book “Vincent Price: A Daughter’s Biography” was reprinted. After her father’s death Victoria was asked about his sexuality. Her biography referenced these rumours without really answering them. In an interview with “Boom” magazine while promoting her reprinted book Victoria gave the following remark: “I am as close to certain as I can be that my dad had physically intimate relationships with man. I know for 100% fact that my dad was completely loving and supportive of lgbt people.”

While Vincent Price’s acting career is what made him famous another side to him is less well-known. He was an art collector and historian. At Yale University he studied art history, after which he became an art teacher for a year. Then he travelled to England to study at the Courtauld Institute of Art in London.

In London he became attracted to the stage and began his acting career when he returned to the USA. In 1935 he made his first stage performance playing Prince Albert, Prince Consort in “Victoria Regina”. Acting became his profession but he continued to study art and amassing a huge art collection.

His love of art inspired him to write “The Vincent Price Treasury of American Art” (1972) as well as a couple of other art books. He also gave lectures on art, and was a committee member on several art organisations. In 1947 he co-founded the Modern Institute of Art in Beverley Hills with fellow actors Edward G. Robinson and Fanny Bryce. Sadly, the venture only lasted two years. One other passion was food. Vincent wrote a series of cook books and often demonstrated his recipes on American television.

Vincent and his second wife Mary were frequent visitors to the East Los Angeles College. With his keen desire to see better access to art given to marginalised sections of the community he donated 90 works of art from his own collection to the college in 1957. This formed the basis of a teaching collection and was the start of the Vincent Price Art Museum (VPAM) which now has collected over 9,000 works.

Victoria Price is currently a board member of the VPAM. She continues to support the museum’s aim to foster under-represented artists, often of ethnic or disadvantaged backgrounds, as well as established artist and old masters. One of the artists showcased at the VPAM was a former student of the East Los Angeles College, 43) Laura Aguilar (1949-2018). Laura took a photography course there in the early 1970s.

Laura was a photographer who was an example of the under-represented artists the VPAM championed. She was an open lesbian from a poor background, came from a Mexican-American-Irish family, was dyslexic and diabetic. Her dyslexia affected her learning abilities as a child. With her grandmother Laura would go out into the California countryside and the landscapes influenced her art.

While at the East Los Angeles College Laura was told by a teacher that she was wasting her time trying to be an artist when she couldn’t even read properly. Because of this attitude Laura transferred to the Pasadena City College. This has a more inclusive and progressive programme of teaching.

Laura’s interest in photography was sparked by her brother who taught her how to develop photographs. She became a pioneer in the genres of Latina and chicana lesbian imagery, often using herself as a nude model. Her focus was on the ordinary lives of Los Angeles lesbians. A series of portraits called “Latina Lesbians” (1986-1990) is one of her most significant works.

During her lifetime Laura’s works were exhibited in many international galleries and museums. She died from complications arising from her diabetes at the age of 58. The VPAM was the first gallery to mount a retrospective of her work the following year.

Let’s go back to the Pasadena City College where Laura studied in the 1980s. There’s several other former alumni worth mentioning. First is Fred Phelps (1929-2014), the vehemently homophobic pastor of the Westboro Baptist Church. Two other alumni are more welcome, and linked - George Reeves (1914-1959), who became famous as television’s Superman in the 1950s, and his co-star 44) Jack Larson (1928-2015).

Next time on “80 More Gays”: We dive into superhero comics and films, and take a philosophical look at a lost continent.

Around the World in Another 80 Gays: Part 33) An Enlightenment Triangle

Previously on “Another 80 Gays”: 67) Baron Friedrich von Steuben (1730-1794) suggested the throne of the newly independent USA should go to 68) Prince Heinrich von Hohenzollern of Prussia (1726-1802), the brother of 69) King Friedrich II the Great of Prussia (1712-1786), who fell in love with 70) Count Francesco Algarotti (1712-1764).

70) Count Francesco Algarotti was the same age as 69) King Friedrich II of Prussia and they first met when Friedrich was still a prince. They became lovers and when Friedrich became king he showered Algarotti with appointments and honours, including creating him a Prussian Count. Their relationship lasted for two years though they remained close for the rest of their lives.

Before arriving in Prussia Francesco Algarotti travelled all over Europe visiting many Enlightenment figures. One of his acquaintances was Voltaire, the French philosopher who would also later spend a lot of time at the court of King Friedrich. Voltaire gave Algarotti the nickname “The Swan of Padua” because of the way he seemed to glide from one city to the next.

When Algarotti, who had not yet met King Friedrich, arrived in London in 1736 he was a well-known writer, philosopher and scientist. He was in the process of writing a book called (in translation) “Newtonism for Women” on the theories of Sir Isaac newton. It wasn’t long before Algarotti was made a Fellow of the Royal Society.

Algarotti’s arrival at King Friedrich’s San Souci residence got him out of a love triangle in England. The woman involved was one of the most free-thinking intellectual women of her time, 71) Lady Mary Wortley-Montagu (1689-1762). For more information on Lady Mary go to my two articles on her Extraordinary Life.

The third person in this Enlightenment love triangle was 72) John Hervey, 2nd Baron Hervey (1696-1743). It was Voltaire who introduced Francesco Algarotti to Lord Hervey in Paris. Hervey was the son of the 1st Earl of Bristol and was elected a Member of Parliament in 1725. As heir to his father’s earldom he was known as Lord Hervey, one of his father’s junior titles. He wasn’t an actual peer of the realm because he was, basically, only “borrowing” the title until his father died. This is still customary in British peerages.

Lord Hervey was such an important member of the government that the Prime Minister of the day didn’t wait until the Earl of Bristol died before Lord Hervey could enter the House of Lords. So Lord Hervey was “accelerated” to the Lords as Lord Hervey in his own right. His father, the Earl of Bristol, relinquished his title of Lord Hervey to his son, and they sat in the House of Lords together. Lord Hervey, sadly, predeceased his father so never became Earl of Bristol.

Although married with 8 children Lord Hervey was well-known for his camp and effeminate personality. His style of dress was flamboyant, in a style that became known as “macaroni” because it was as fashionable among the aristocracy as was the Italian food they encountered on their Grand Tour of Europe. If you remember the song “Yankee Doodle” and wondered why he put a feather in his cap and called it “macaroni”, that’s why – it was fashionably flamboyant.

Lord Hervey was infatuated with Francesco Algarotti from the moment they met, and it was when Hervey later introduced him to Lady Mary Wortley-Montagu that things started to get “interesting”. Lady Mary was well over 40 years old by then, 20 years older then the two men. Her failed marriage and unhappy family life needed some pleasantness and Algarotti provided it.

The three of them spent a lot of time together in England. Algarotti read his Newton book to them and Lady Mary helped him to improve his English. In September 1736 Algarotti went back to Italy leaving the two English aristocrats heartbroken. They both wrote love letters to him urging him to return. Algarotti, probably conscious of the complications that might arise, gave polite excuses and encouraged them to continue writing.

Lord Hervey was content to bide his time but Lady Mary was truly infatuated. Her letters became more agonising and she made known her intention of visiting Algarotti in Italy. By this time, however, Algarotti was dating a young man from Milan, so you can almost hear the alarm bells going off in his head when he read that letter.

Algarotti visited England briefly in 1737, staying with Lord Hervey for a while before continuing on his graceful travels around Europe. By this time Lady Mary was virtually stalking him and she travelled down to Turin to meet him. This was in 1741, by which time he had met King Friedrich of Prussia and had been created a count. It was obvious to Lady Mary that she couldn’t compete with a king for Algarotti’s affections and gave up trying.

So what became of our Enlightenment love triangle? Lady Mary spent the next 20 years in retirement in Europe before returning home to die in England in 1762. Count Algarotti died two years later in Italy. Lord Hervey predeceased them both in 1743. His final years were clouded by an unhappy marriage, despite having 8 children. He virtually disinherited his wife in his will.

Throughout his short life Lord Hervey attracted much attention for his effeminate appearance and personality. As well as becoming a famous “macaroni” Lady Mary Wortley-Montagu once remarked that there were three genders in England – male, female and hervey. Other slang terms and names were given to him in his lifetime and he was an obvious target for political satire and caricature. Alexander Pope in his satirical “An Epistle From Mr. Pope to Dr. Arbuthnot” made no attempt to hide his contempt for Lord Hervey by portraying him as the castrated youth who was married Emperor Nero, a youth called 73) Sporus (c.51-69).

Next time : We watch Rome burn then go to a pantomime.

Extraordinary Lives : Swashbuckling Across France Part 2

Two weeks ago I wrote about the extraordinary exploits of Julie d’Aubigny (1673-1707) pictured above. Today we continue her story.

After spending several years on the run for kidnapping a nun and burning down a convent Julie arrived in Paris at the age of 18 with a royal pardon and a glorious future as a star of the Paris Opera. She became a celebrity. Composers wrote parts especially for her and high society feted her.

In true celebrity style Julie’s off-stage behaviour continued to attract attention. She fell in love with the lead female singer, the prima donna of the Paris Opera, Marie Le Rochois (c.1658-1728). There was another singer Julie fell for, a rising male star called Franchon Moreau (1668-after 1743). He turned her down and Julie was shattered. She became so depressed, so it is said, that she attempted suicide.

But there’s always someone who wants a bit of the action and is jealous of being left out. A famous tenor at the opera, Louis Gaulard Dumesny (d.1702), had been trying to earn the affection of both Julie and Marie, and just about any other women he thought he had a chance with. When he made a concerted effort to woo Julie she turned him down. Dumesny responded by insulting her. Julie’s response to that was characteristic.

One evening Julie laid in wait for Dumesny in a public square. When he appeared Julie leapt out in front of him and challenged him to a duel. Dumesny didn’t recognise her because he hadn’t seen Julie in her male attire before and turned into a wimp. He refused to fight. Whereupon Julie got out her walking cane and thrashed the living daylights out of him. For good measure she took his watch and snuff box.

The following day Dumesny arrived at the opera covered in bruises. People asked what had happened and he said that he had been attacked by a bunch of ruffians who stole his watch and snuff box. This was Julie’s cue. She called him a liar and a coward and took out the watch and snuff box and threw them back at him. How embarrassed he must have been.

Life at the opera and in society circles continued. One very posh royal ball in 1697 provided more extraordinary behaviour from Julie. She was attending in her finest male attire. One young woman attracted her attention and Julie began chatting her up and flirting. They even danced together. Julie also knew there were three men who were equally vying for the young lady’s attention. There were strict conventions and rules about courtship at public events like this ball where royalty is present, but Julie threw them all out of the window when she kissed the young lady in full view of the other guests. At this point the three would-be suitors challenged Julie to a duel.

There’s no time like the present, they say, and the four of them marched out of the ballroom and into the palace gardens. Julie took on all three of the men, one after the other, and beat them all. The king was not amused. When Julie returned to the ballroom he reminded her that duels were banned. The king’s brother, however, was very amused and persuaded the king to let her off because the ban only applies to men not women.

However, the scandal was a bit too much and Julie felt the urge to travel again. She left Paris and went to Brussels. There she took up a guest role at the Brussels opera. Her tempestuous behaviour wasn’t dampened. At one time she had an argument with the “Duchess of Luxembourg” (there was no such title at the time, so I assume this lady would have been the wife of the Duke of Nassau, Prince of Orange, who ruled the area we now call Luxembourg). Julie threatened to blow the Duchess’s brains out!

Julie’s reputation attracted the attention of Prince Maximilian I Emanuel von Wittelsbach, the Elector of Bavaria. It wasn’t long before the two were having an affair. But Julie proved to be a bit too much for him, especially after seeing her stab herself with a real dagger during one opera performance. To help ease the pain of dumping her he thought a gift of 40,000 livres and a gentle hint to go away might do the trick. It backfired spectacularly after he chose the husband of his new mistress to deliver the money to her. Julie was outraged. She threw the money back at him and chased him out of her house. When he returned to retrieve the money both it and Julie had gone.

Madrid was Julie’s next destination. Perhaps she was trying to keep a low profile there, because she got a job as the maid to a Spanish countess. You just know something is going to happen before too long, and so it did. Julie didn’t like the countess very much. One evening when Julie was getting the countess ready for a grand ball she thought it would be amusing to put radishes in the countess’s hair. The countess went to the ball unaware of her unusual hair adornments. She probably didn’t stay at the grand ball very long, but by the time she got back home Julie was long gone.

Julie returned to Paris and the opera. When her ex-lover Marie Le Rochois retired Julie became her replacement as prima donna. There were a few more altercations with the law, usually involving herself and her old friend the Count d’Albret, and her continual verbal duels with Gabriel-Vincent Théverard, the singer who got her the job at the Paris Opera in the first place.

Life was relatively uneventful after that. In 1703 she met and fell in love with Marie Thérèse de Senneterre de Crussol d’Uzès (1670-1705), wife of the much older Louis, Marques of Florensac. Marie Thérèse was said to be the most beautiful woman in France. The two women became a couple. Marie Thérèse left her 68-year-old husband, and her two young children by him, and went to live with Julie until her death two years later.

Julie was heart-broken. She retired from the opera and from her swashbuckling activities. She may have decided that life wasn’t worth living without Marie Thérèse and set about putting all her affairs in order. This included reconciling herself with her husband. Remember him from Part 1? He was the unfortunate man who was packed off to the south of France to become a tax collector as soon as they had married.

It is ironic that her extraordinary life on an adventure all over France started with her setting fire to a convent, for it is in a convent that she spent the final two years of her life.

Julie d’Aubigny’s reputation during her lifetime not only meant that she was a national celebrity but that stories about her were exaggerated through the years. From recent research undertaken by her biographers who have trawled through the archives to separate fact from fiction it seems that Julie’s life story needed no exaggeration and that on the face of it she did indeed lead an extraordinary life.

Extraordinary Lives : Swashbuckling Across France

A French print from around 1700 by an anonymous artist entitled
“Mademoiselle Maupin d’Opera” depicting Julie d’Aubigny as an opera singer.

There was quite a remarkable group of women who lived in the17th and 18th centuries who lived extraordinary lives for their times – the pirates Anne Bonny and Mary Read, and the soldier-adventurer Catalina de Erauso to name a few. At the moment I’m quite taken with the life of Julie d’Aubigny (1673-1707), whose action-packed, swash-buckling, body-snatching, opera-singing life was extraordinary for enough for her to feature as a companion to Doctor Who in a comic book adventure. In fact, there can be very few men of her time had more extraordinary lives than hers.

Julie was perhaps fortunate in having the father she had, for Gaston d’Aubigny was secretary to Prince Louis de Lorraine-Guise, Count of Armagnac. Gaston was also responsible for the education and training of the pages of the royal court of King Louis XIV of France. Julius was accepted into the classes, which included horse-riding and fencing, and she got used to wearing male clothes like the young male trainees. Sensing the restrictions of female clothes at an early age Julie chose to wear men’s clothes for the majority of the rest of her life.

So far, so dull, except for learning how to fight with a sword, which other young women didn’t. Then, at the age of 14 she became the Count of Armagnac’s mistress. That would have caused as bit of a scandal, even if there were other royal mistresses around the court. But Julie was a teenager and unmarried. So the Count married her off to an aristocrat called the Sire de Maupin de Sainte-Germain-en-Laye. From then on Julie became known as the Madame de Maupin, or just La Maupin when a later career choice took off.

Now that Julie was married Armagnac packed her husband off to the south of France to be a tax collector while he had his way with her.

Then things really started to hot up. Julie spent her time in the fencing schools of Paris, challenging the tutors to matches. One of these tutors, Monsieur Sérannes, became her lover after Armagnac dropped her. But her cushy life as a privileged aristocrat ended when Sérannes killed a man in a duel. Duels were illegal at the time, so the couple fled Paris. Deprived of income they headed south earning money in the fairs and inns as a fencing-singing (not at the same time) double-act.

Julie dressed as a man the whole time but always made it clear that she was a woman (a female singing fencer was a big attraction). But one young man in one audience challenged her. He didn’t believe she was a woman. So, what did she do? She did what any other 16-year-old would do. She flashed her boobs at the crowd.

Julie also had quite a talent for singing as well. When they got to Marseille she trained as a singer under Pierre Gaultier, a friend of the composer who invented the military marching band and modern ballet, Jean-Baptiste Lully.

It wasn’t long before Julie tired of Sérannes. She had found another love, a merchant’s daughter who was even younger than she was. The girl’s parents were horrified, so they packed her daughter off to a convent. Undaunted, Julie followed, and abandoned her male attire to join the same convent. The two teenagers could be together, but life in a convent was not the best environment for a relationship so they decided to run away together.

Knowing Julie, just running away from a convent was no ordinary task. She waited until an elderly nun had died. Then, Julie dug up the body. Yes, grave-robbing was another of her skills, and put the corpse in her girlfriend’s bed. To cover up the switch Julie set fire to the convent and she and her girlfriend escaped amid the chaos.

The plan backfired, sort of. In her absence Julie was accused of kidnapping, grave-robbing and arson. She was condemned to death – as a man, because they couldn’t believe a woman could do such a thing.

On the run again Julie enjoyed three months with her young lover (whose name is not known). But boredom set in again and the girl was sent back to her parents while Julie returned to her singing-fencing career in the inns and fairs of rural France. She was talent-spotted by an alcoholic former singing star who offered to train her properly. Perhaps now, at the age of 18, Julie though about finding a more normal life.

But no. She enjoyed singing, but she enjoyed fencing just as much. On her way to Paris to start her professional singing career she encountered a young man who insulted her (in one version of the tale). Julie challenged him to a duel and succeeded in thrusting her sword straight through his shoulder. The next day the man’s servant came to apologise for his master’s insult and took Julie up to see him in his room. It was only then that Julie revealed her true gender and identity and, guess what? She and the injured man, who turned out to be Count Louis-Joseph d’Albret, became lovers. This was perhaps the only true love relationship Julie had with a man. They were only lovers for a short time but they remained close friends for the rest of their lives.

Julie continued on to Paris, picking up yet another lover, a fellow singer also heading for Paris called Gabriel-Vincent Thévenard. Don’t forget that Julie had a death sentence hanging over her in Paris, and once there her identity would be revealed and she risked arrest. Calling on her former lover, the Count of Armagnac, for help he persuaded the king to drop all charges against her.

Still only 18 years old Julie found herself performing at the Paris Opera. It wasn’t long before she realised her best singing voice was as a contralto, and this turned her into a star. There weren’t many starring roles for a contralto at that time, but Julie found composers were writing leading roles especially for her. This was the time she became known as La Maupin. She stayed at the Paris Opera for 15 years.

And if you think the first 18 years of her life were packed with enough packed and that she has decided to settle down and become a singing celebrity you’d be wrong.

The next 18 years of her life were just as extraordinary, and included a duel with three men one after the other, an affair with the ruler of Bavaria, and a disagreement with the Grand Duchess of Luxembourg all made sure her teenage reputation stayed with her. Unfortunately, we can’t. Julie d’Aubigny’s life is so extraordinary that I’ve split it into two parts. Part 2 will appear at the end of the month. And you’ll never guess what she did with a handful of radishes.

A Queer Philosopher's Achievement : Francis Bacon

[Achievement – the name given in heraldry to the full pictorial representation of a coat of arms.]

One of my favourite historical lgbt people is Sir FrancisBacon (1561-1626). He was a true man of many talents – a statesman, a scientist, a philosopher and a writer. Before I go into his coat of arms you may like to read about his philosophical credentials in his entry in the Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy. Basically, Sir Francis Bacon was among the first champions of the belief in proper investigation, observation and experimentation of the natural world. He was also a leading statesman of his time and his coat of arms shown below illustrates that.

Francis Bacon was born in 1561, the son of Sir Nicholas Bacon, a prominent statesman at the court of Queen Elizabeth I. On 22^nd February 1568 Sir Nicholas and his brothers were granted a coat of arms which was inherited by their descendants including, of course, Sir Francis Bacon. Below is his full achievement of arms.

The shield show two coats of arms quartered together. In the top left and bottom right quarters are the arms of the Bacon family, and in the other quarters are the arms of the Quaplode family. The Quaplodes were a landed family in Norfolk whose heiress married into the Bacons. Their descendants inherited both arms in this configuration. This would also be the coat of arms used by Sir Francis’s older brother Anthony Bacon. Both used cadency marks to indicate which son of Sir Nicholas they were. Anthony, as the 4^th son, would have put a small bird called a martlet on his shield. Sir Francis, as 5^th son, put a small circle called an annulet on his. I have not shown this annulet in my painting because Sir Francis is the only member of his family who was entitled to use any of the other devices you can see.

What can we see that tells us that this is the specific coat of arms of Sir Francis Bacon and not anyone else in his family? We need to follow his political career to decode the design. With each new appointment the paraphernalia surrounding the shield changed. Originally Sir Francis would have used a shield, including his cadency mark, with a simple helmet like the one is shown in Michelle Dumaresq’s achievement. In 1603 Francis was knighted, which meant he changed his helmet for one with an open visor, as used by other knights such as Sir Elton John.

In 1617 Sir Francis was appointed Lord Keeper of the Great Seal. This high office of state would have enabled him to show a representation of the Privy Purse which contained the Great Seal below his shield. I’ve tried to find a good quality image of the Privy Purse he would have used to no avail, so I haven’t show it.

Sir Francis was appointed Lord High Chancellor of England and was created a peer of the realm with the title Baron Verulam. This was the highest position in the state that any member o f the lgbt community had held since Sir Piers Gaveston, King Edward II’s lover, was appointed Guardian of the Realm in 1307.

The Lord High Chancellor is still one of the highest offices of state. If you have ever watched coverage of the State Opening of Parliament you would have seen the Chancellor of the day hand the speech to the Queen from the steps of the throne in the House of Lords. You would also have seen an Usher carrying the ceremonial mace which is placed in front of the Queen. Sir Francis was entitled to show this mace, 2 of them, behind his shield.

On being created a Baron Verulam Sir Francis would have changed his helmet again. As a peer he used the more elaborate helmet with a gold barred visor you see here. Modern peers are entitled to place a coronet sitting on top their shield to show their rank of nobility. During his lifetime there was no coronet for a baron. But in 1621 he was promoted to a viscount with them title Viscount St. Albans. His boss, King James I, authorised the use of a coronet for viscounts, and this is the one I show.

Right at the top of the painting, on top of the helmet, is the crest. You may think that the boar is a pun on the family name of Bacon, bit it isn’t. The boar crest was actually that of the Quaplode family and in the grant to Sir Nicholas’s father in 1568 replaced the original Bacon crest which was a griffin. The family motto at the bottom translates as “Mediocrity is Stable”.

Sir Francis resigned as Lord High Chancellor in 1621 over a bribery scandal and the use of the maces behind his shield was stopped. However, I like the look of the maces and it reminds me that members of the lgbt community have been involved in the government of England for centuries.

Lord Montagu - The Modest Pioneer

When I was young one of the highlights of UK television every autumn was coverage of the annual London to Brighton vintage car rally. The sight of those old cars chugging along the British roads beside modern cars was something which appealed to me. One of the characters who always appeared was Lord Montagu of Beaulieu. He was famous as the creator and owner of the National Motor Museum at his stately home. He appeared on lots of programmes throughout the years, sometimes popping up on chat shows and quiz shows as a celebrity guest. Lord Montagu died last month at the age of 88.

What I didn’t know as a child was that this famous “old car man” was famous for something else, and it was something which was successfully “ignored” by the scandal-seeking media of the 1970s. In 1953 Lord Montagu was one of the main protagonists in a landmark court case that paved the way for the decriminalisation of homosexual acts in the UK (homosexuality itself was not illegal).

The trial was labelled The Montagu Case because Lord Montagu was the only high profile member of the three men who were accused of conspiring to “commit unnatural offences” against two RAF pilots who had been invited to join them on Lord Montagu’s estate. The trial was front page material.

Lord Montagu had opened his motor museum three years earlier and he was one of the bright young stars of the heritage industry (he was 27 when he was arrested, and many years later he was to become Chairman of English Heritage). His arrest sent many closeted gay men into their secret stores of love letters and diaries and many stories of the hidden history of lgbt Britain were destroyed in fear of a possible “witch hunt”.

In March 1954 the all-male jury found Lord Montagu and his two companions guilty and they were given prison sentences. All through the trial Lord Montagu protested his innocence, whether through fear or belief that homosexual acts were nothing to be criminalised isn’t clear.

What the trial highlighted to all levels of society that even those in the highest echelons were not immune to imprisonment. Mostly significant it gave liberal-thinking politicians the impetus to have the whole legal position of homosexual men discussed and addressed properly. Parliament created an inquiry into the possible reform of the law, not only for gay men but also sex-workers and prostitutes. Heading the inquiry was John Wolfenden, whose own son was gay, and even today the Wolfenden Report is one of the well-known reform commissions in the UK. It recommended the decriminalisation of homosexual acts and the age of consent. However, it took Parliament another ten years before there was any change in the law. For his contribution to the inquiry John Wolfenden was knighted and later he was created a life peer.

By 1967 when homosexual acts were decriminalised Lord Montagu was back on his stately home running his famous motor museum. He was beginning to become a media celebrity and his role in the landmark Montagu Case was never mentioned.

While the others convicted with him in 1954 became more prominent campaigners Lord Montagu chose not to become an activist. Not every lgbt person wants to become an activist, which other lgbt activists sometimes unjustifiably demand of them. Montagu wanted an ordinary life where his sexuality was not an issue. In that respect he was not unlike most of us today who wish for a society where our sexuality isn’t an issue and we are treated the same as everyone else.

For many years Lord Montagu refused to speak about his sexuality or even deny his bisexuality, which is why I’ve written this tribute to Lord Montagu today, Celebrate Bisexuality Day.

Many in the lgbt community accused him of bi-phobia for not admitting his sexuality publicly. He always came across on the television screen as a modest man, never one to shout about himself, and I can’t imagine he would ever have been comfortable discussing any sexuality. It wasn’t until he was persuaded to write his autobiography in 2000 that Lord Montagu spoke about his bisexuality. He acknowledged that the Montagu Case was instrumental in the reform of lgbt legislation in the UK.

On this Celebrate Bisexuality Day let’s raise a glass and drink a toast to the late Lord Montagu of Beaulieu, the modest pioneer.

Coded Lives : 2 - The Kahlo Secret

Frida Kahlo (1907-1954) is Hispanic America’s most famous female artist. Like so many painters she put her own feelings and emotions into her art, but for many years she kept her most anguished feelings private in an illustrated diary.

The source of Frida’s anguish was not her bisexuality but stemmed from a series of accidents that left her permanently injured, both physically and mentally. Her diary illustrates more than any other of her works why the Mexicans call her “la heroina del color” – the heroine of pain.

At the age of 6 or 7 Frida contracted polio which she disguised from everyone by wearing think woollen socks over her withering leg. This led to her developing a limp and twisted pelvis and unending pain.

Eleven years later Frida and her boyfriend were involved in an accident involving an electric streetcar. Frida was impaled on a metal handrail which smashed her twisted pelvis and lower spine. She broke her collarbone and two ribs, and her already damaged right leg was fractured in eleven places. Her boyfriend, trapped under the streetcar, sustained relatively few injuries.

For the rest of her life Frida’s injuries caused great pain, and she underwent over thirty operations and spent many months in hospital. Despite the injuries to her pelvis Frida became pregnant three times by her husband, fellow artist Diego Rivera. None of the pregnancies reached their full term – one was a miscarriage, and the others wee aborted. Perhaps she realised there would never be a safe birth for her children. This was another cause of anguish for her.

Most of Frida’s art reflected her various feelings and pains in her life, but in her personal diary she wrote and drew her expressions of her deepest emotions.

It seems that she began her diary in 1944. There’s no proper chronological order to the entries. Frida wrote and drew what she felt at the time, frequently going back to past events in her life. There are colourful drawings and collages, just as you’d expect from Frida Kahlo’s work.

At first the diary appears thoughtful and colourful. As Frida’s health deteriorated and she spent more time in hospital the tone turned darker. She drew a childish doll with one disembodied hand and eye falling to the ground. Above it she writes “Yo soy la desintegración” (I am disintegration), as if Frida recognises her body is falling apart.

Later, during her final month, she depicts herself in ideal female form though a bold mauve line dissecting her left leg at the knee representing the amputation of her leg due to gangrene. The final drawing is of a dark angel of death.

A few months later, in July 1954, Frida died. Officially the cause was pulmonary embolism, but it is widely believed that it could have been suicide.

Frida’s diary, although revealing her innermost feelings, has been known for many years. Its actual content was seen by very few and kept secret from much of the art world. When her former home in Coyoacán, Mexico, was turned into the Frida Kahlo Museum in 1958 the diary went on display. The executor of Frida’s estate, Dolores Oluedo, had refused to display the contents to both researchers and the public. It took decades before she was persuaded to have a photocopied version of the diary published. Publishers battled over the right to publish the diary, with Abrams coming out on top with an offer of an undisclosed 6-figure sum. Their version of the facsimile diary was published last year.