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The Short Life and Long Times of Mrs. Beeton

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There used to be a time that if you were a newlywed young woman in Britain or the vast reaches of the Commonwealth, one of the presents you were likely to recieve at your wedding was a book. It was usually a rather thick and massive book, full of tidbits of what was expected of the middle class lady of the house, how to prepare meals, instructions for handling servants, or at least the daily help, simple medical and scientific information, and being a general 'help all' book that was aimed at a single niche market. By the turn of the twentieth century, Mrs. Beeton's Book of Household Management was up to nearly two thousand pages, and was as firmly a part of the British psyche as the Queen.

But who was Mrs. Beeton? Since there had not been any sort of author blurb that has become standard in most books today, imaginations ran riot as to just who she was. Was she an advertising image, such as the modern 'Betty Crocker'? Or perhaps she was like today's Martha Stewart, dominant and stern, ready to reprimand the slightest slip in domestic caretaking. And Mrs. Beeton has survived into the modern day, there are still books being published with her name on them, full of advice on cooking, cleaning and the suchlike.

Kathryn Hughes' book The Short Life and Long Times of Mrs. Beeton takes on both the topic and the book, giving the reader a glimpse into middle class English life in the nineteenth century and a very intriguing woman. Born into a numerous family -- Isabella would have more than twenty full, half and step-siblings -- Bella Mayson grew up as a caretaker of her mother's numerous brood, and still managed to gain an education and found herself with a flair for foreign languages. She was also bright, witty and blessed with a certain charm and prettiness, all desireable qualities in a woman, and soon Isabella had a suitor: Sam Beeton.

If Isabella was sensible and practical, then Sam was the high-flyer of the pair. Full of schemes and ideas, but rarely having the luck of foresight to get the best out of himself or the product, Sam instead worked at a feverish pace, and sometimes wasn't above using shameless self-promotion. He also faced stern opposition from Bella's family, who thought that he did not and would not have the means to support Bella properly. But the young couple were in love, and Hughes uses their letters to one another to show a courtship that was full of passionate feelings, and despite everything, they were wed and soon setting up house together. Sam was starting to show promise as a printer and publisher, and the couple were looking forward to starting their own family.

But tragedy hit in the form of a long series of stillbirths and miscarriages for Bella, and it was no doubt to distract herself that she turned to writing an advice and homemaking column in Sam's magazine, "The Englishwoman's Domestic Magazine," which would form the nucleus of the later Book of Household Management. Both Sam and Bella kept up a feverish pace, both home and abroad, and Bella would become influential at writing and marketing the latest fashions from Paris, developing a chic style of her own.

A dark secret was lurking at the center of the marriage, one that would explain the failure of Bella's children to thrive -- Sam had contracted syphilis during his bachelor days and transmitted it to Bella in the early days of their marriage. It is quite likely that the doctors nor Sam ever told her that she was infected, and that combined with the never-ending stress of working and managing a home as well as numerous pregnancies would end with her death at the age of twenty-eight. Sam's career would continue on a downward spiral, with one hideous incident of pornography ruining his business and the tertiary stages of syphilis cutting his own life short.

But Mrs. Beeton's Book would become a bestseller, but neither Bella nor Sam ever saw a profit from it. In more capable hands, it went through revisions, new editions, and changes, and conversely, would recieve a critical battering in the twentieth century and be known as the 'book that ruined British cookery' as tastes changed to a more Mediterranean style of diet. Researchers claimed that Beeton had cribbed most of her recipes that formed the bulk of the book -- more than 900 pages worth in later editions -- and that the book was mere fluff, and badly written fluff at that.

Hughes work in this is fluid and entertaining, detailing the life of Isabella Beeton, her husband, and two surviving sons. Small chapters called "interludes" take the various myths about the Book, and show the truth that lay behind it. But this is more than a biography of a woman and a book. Hughes also looks at the sexual mores of the time, religious attitudes, the rise of consumer culture and the middle class, and the use of cheap magazines in both advertising and education. It's a fascinating read for anyone who thinks that they know what the Victorians were all about and the cult of the homemaker -- I found my assumptions challenged over and over again, and Hughes uses a particularly dry wit in talking about her subjects.

There are several line drawings, several photographs of both Bella and Sam, and an extensive set of footnotes and bibliography that will encourage further research. Hughes draws on surviving journals, letters, newspapers, court documents and contemporary authors to flesh out her story and manages to remain objective throughout it all.

This book was very entertaining to read, and helps to show that sometimes things never change. The sections on the use of magazines I found fascinating. For anyone interested in the art of the domestic goddess this is a welcome addition to their libraries.

Happily recommended.

Thumbing through a hefty copy of "Mrs. Beeton's Book of Household Management" you form a picture of the author as an authoritative, practical, middle-aged Victorian matron, the very image of respectable domesticity.

But except for her practicality, nothing could be further from the truth. Isabella Beeton was dead before she was 30. The book that made her a household name in Britain was published when she was 24. She didn't know much about running a household - with or without servants - and according to her biographer, Kathryn Hughes, she wasn't much interested either. She would no doubt be astonished to hear that her book is still in print almost 150 years later.

A young wife with strong organizational skills, Isabella's goal was simply to help keep her husband's publishing business solvent and growing. Hers was the first of a branded series of useful "Beeton Books" for the middle classes, which came to include "Beeton's Illustrated Bible" and "Beeton's Book of Universal Information." That she took to the work is clear - she was correcting proofs on her deathbed at age 28.

Immediately after her marriage to Sam Beeton, Isabella threw herself into the publishing business, writing domestic advice columns (on any subject required) for his "Englishwoman's Domestic Magazine." But it wasn't until the birth of her first healthy son (after the death of her first child in infancy and a probable string of miscarriages - Hughes makes the case that Sam infected Isabella with syphilis) that she officially began working full time, appearing at the office and recognized as "Editress."

Although Isabella was as methodical and levelheaded as her husband was impulsive and reckless, necessity may not have been her only motive for such unconventional behavior. She may not have known much about running a household, but she knew more than her share about chores and childcare. Growing up, Isabella had been the eldest girl in a blended family of 21 children. A sketch by her mother shows Isabella as a calm presence among the brood, "age 12 going on twenty-five."

Isabella emerges from Hughes' lively, engaging, meticulously researched biography as a conventional Victorian girl who accepts her lot in life with reasonable grace. Until along comes an opportunity for escape from domesticity, by instructing others in how to excel at it.

But how, you might wonder, does a 20-something author sound authoritative on matters ranging from handling dinner parties for 60 and training servants to trussing a turkey and properly ventilating the home? She steals from her elders, that's how. Though Isabella developed a distinctive voice and demonstrated a formidable talent for organization and assembly, much of her famous book is cobbled directly from her predecessors.

But Hughes' book is much more than a biography of an ambitious plagiarist cut off in her budding prime. It's a colorful and energetic exploration of Victorian society in the midst of rapid change. Industrialization had expanded and urbanized the middle class and cheap printing processes revolutionized access to information and entertainment.

Parallels to today's rapid advances in information technology abound, particularly in the areas of copyright and specialization. Isabella was more cautious stealing from living authors than dead ones and Sam made his first fortune from a pirated edition of "Uncle Tom's Cabin." Copyright laws existed but were disputed between Britain and the U.S. and the volume of printed material expanded more rapidly than the legal system.

And the appetite for printed material seemed boundless. The Beetons zeroed in on the expanding middle class, people - and their servants - who lived in newly urbanized domiciles and welcomed advice on coping and correct behavior.

As Hughes goes through Beeton's book - prefacing chapters with often hilarious quotes - she shows how Isabella cleverly aimed her advice at those doing the work, be it the servant or the housewife, recognizing the fuzziness of changing boundaries without dwelling on them. She embodies the ideal household while providing solid, practical information, allowing her reader her fantasies.

It's a big, complex book, but, like her subject, Hughes is a formidable organizer. Her authorial voice is strong, with a wide streak of humor, and an illustrative style. Her affection for Isabella shines clear, but without a drop of idealization, while her vibrant portrait of Victorian daily life and social changes and trends emerges from a broad and natural context.

A gem of a book on many levels, Hughes de-mythologizes an icon and gives us a woman, a family, a society, and the creation of a legend.

--Portsmouth Herald

Mrs Beeton was a woman for our age. Possessed of more money than time, she advised the rising middle class of Victorian England how to cook everything, keep house, garden--all things for which we today turn to Martha. It's delightful to read how the past compares with our present, and also how even in a simpler time one woman with an idea could create one of the first media empires. This thoroughly researched, captivatingly written story is an immersion in the world of Victorian society, one woman's improbable success (achieved before she died in childbirth in her mid-twenties). A real gem that puts our modern obssession with hearth and home in fascinating light.

As someone who is interested in the domestic arts, I had previousely purchased a facsimile of the original Mrs. Beeton's Book of Household Management. When I purused its pages, I remember asking myself, "I wonder what made her such an authority" because there's nothing in the book that tells the reader where or how Mrs. Beeton obtained her knowledge. I knew nothing of the author, other than that she was married to a publisher -- that is until I read this book....

Kathryn Hughes tells the story of Mrs. Beeton's life from beginning to end. It is well researched, readable, and I couldn't help but think of the comparison between how Mrs. Beeton's book contained plagiarized material and how it was alleged that Martha Stewart did the same with some of the recipes in her earlier cook books. So it struck me as odd that Kathryn Hughes missed the obvious comparison, when she did happen to mention other American domestic goddesses like Cheryl Mendelson who wrote "Home Comforts" and even the fictional character, Betty Crocker. Other than this minor omission or oversight, I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book and am glad it was written.

I am a fan of Isabella Beeton, and I have a facsimile copy (ordered on amazon from a British bookseller) of the first edition, 1861 "Beeton's Book of Household Management." Strange as it may seem, I have made some of the recipes from the book in my 21st century kitchen! I find this classic compendium a delight to browse through, as I enjoy the brisk, authoritative tone of the Victorian author.

Kathryn Hughes's 400 page (plus extensive footnotes and bibliography) biography is a surprisingly quick read for those interested in the domestic icon of the mid-1800s, who is still a "household word" (!) in England. For many years, British women assumed that Mrs. Beeton was "a tub-like lady in black," a middle-aged, extremely competent, experienced woman who ran a wealthy household. Discovering the real details of Bella's life, which are far from that image, is rewarding and a little sad. Bella was only 28 when she died of puerperal fever, and Hughes speculates that she also suffered from syphilis, contracted when she was a bride from her husband Samuel, who "had a roving disposition." She may have been, like some other wives of her era, the victim of massive Victorian hypocrisy. Hughes states that doctors usually opted not to tell the women they were treating what was the real nature of their trouble.

Isabella Beeton was an energetic, bright, inquisitive woman whose skills were put to ideal use in Samuel's publishing business. Her famous work was not original; it was in modern parlance, a "cut and paste" affair, but that was a genre the Victorians favored. The recipes owe much to innovative cooks like Eliza Acton and others, but Beeton's over 1,000 page work stands in an encyclopediac category of its own. Although some of her methods seem alien to us, (boiling carrots for an hour and a half?) Hughes points out the when nutritionists analyze her menus, they conclude that her meals are better balanced and healthier than the usual diet of families today. If you factor out the boiling of meats and long cooking of vegetables, two techniques that are responsible for the notoriously low reputation of Britsh cuisine, Beeton's recipes endure and measure up well.

Kudoes to Hughes for an extensively researched, well written work, a definitive biography of a woman once shrouded in

false impressions.

This is a surprisingly fascinating biography of Isabella Mayson Beeton, author of the classic Book of Household Management, first published in installments in 1859 and still celebrated a century later. Kathryn Hughes digs deep into the icon's childhood where she learned much of the housekeeping tips that she provides less than two decades later. What is Interesting is the section where Isabella is about to marry magazine publisher Sam Beeton and she has to put into practice what she learned about managing a household. Finally she wrote articles for Sam's publication The Englishwoman's Domestic Magazine, which he started in 1852, but she joined one year after their marriage in 1857. The middle class housekeeping management bible, The Book of Household Management was published in the magazine in installments (much of Victorian literature including Dickens' novels was released that way) two years later. Six years later at twenty-nine, Isabella is dead.

This is a terrific biography that showcases more than just an intriguing person as readers obtain a taste of the lifestyle of the growing middle class in England. The chapters include the expected look at her life and the posthumous fame that her book provided her; but there also terrific interludes where Ms. Hughes offers an analysis of the era to include the role of women, the impact of the nouveau moneyed middle class, and much more in a biography worth reading.

Harriet Klausner

Many years ago, in pursuit of a graduate degree in history, I took a colloquium in "Nineteenth Century Domestic History" (for the simple reason that it fit into my schedule) and have been fascinated ever since by the Victorian household, the upstairs-downstairs dichotomy, the manner in which the "service" way of life affected the architecture of the private home, and all the other aspects of middle-class domestic existence in Britain a century and a half ago that would seem irredeemably alien to most people now. In the course of that term, I read the _Book of Household Management_ -- a volume that could be found on almost every housewife's kitchen dresser -- and was caught up in its blend of optimistic encouragement for the newly (relatively) affluent with its determinedly practical advice to the mistress of the home as "The Commander of an Army." And yet Isabella Beeton was not herself the manager of a large home with a score of servants but a busy suburban mother helping her struggling printer/publisher husband (specializing in women's magazines, Christmas annuals, illustrated Bibles, and the "Beeton's Book of . . ." series) try to make a go of it, and assisted by, at most, a single maid-of-all-work. "Belle," as she was known in the family, was a smart woman -- a more astute businessman than her husband, as he readily admitted -- who undertook the book that would make her famous as a calculated way to earn some money for the family business. And yet she died as a result of childbirth at the age of twenty-eight, before ever knowing the legacy she would leave behind. In many ways, she was atypical of her times, a very modern woman able to turn her hand to almost anything. Even though that was an economic necessity, the author makes it clear that, had Sam Beeton been more successful, his wife would have chafed badly at being stuck at home. Hughes notes, for example, that Isabella "was never an instinctual or experienced housekeeper-cook," but "a journalist who alighted on domestic science as a good subject ripe for repackaging." But she was also the product -- the victim, in some ways -- of the middle-class Victorian world, having been infected with syphilis on her honeymoon by her wayward young husband. Perhaps most important, at a time when active housework was coming to be seen by young middle-class women as drudgery, a dreary chore to be escaped from via financial success by one's husband, Isabella Beeton's book elevated domestic duties to a level where the successful housewife could take pride in her own competence, her mastery of the many skills and specialized field of knowledge necessary in a well-managed home, and in doing it all on a budget. And the daughters of that generation took the lessons of organization and self-management which their mothers had taught them (having learned them from Mrs. Beeton) out into the modern workplace and the professional world. It has to be said that, in the years since her book's publication, especially when "Victorian" became a judgmental label to be avoided, Mrs. Beeton was accused of plagiarism, though she didn't steal other people's ideas to any greater extent than most other writers of synthetic works -- and Hughes examines all the influences on her work, exactly which of her second-hand pronouncements came from where and which were very much her own revelations. The entire last third of this volume concerns the life Isabella's work took on after her own death, the influence her writings had well into the 20th century, and the rediscovery in recent years of "Mrs. Beeton" as a cultural artifact. The author's style throughout is a winning combination of scholarly (there are hundreds of footnotes and a lengthy bibliography) and lively readability, the narrative being punctuated both with period illustrations and vivid word-portraits. This is the sort of book I like to keep ready to hand, to dip into at intervals. And that bibliography will keep me busy for some time, too.

I am very impressed with the detail that was interjected into this book about Isabella Beeton. Unlike another reviewer, I did not find the author to be biased against Samuel Beeton. The truth is the truth. I saw the BBC movie after I read the book and although entertaining and highlighting on many of the facts it is still a movie with the limitations of times etc... The simple facts remain, that Mrs. Beeton did not live long enough to "try-out" each of the 2000 recipes, much less create them. So for the author to imply otherwise is just nonsense. The facts are the facts. History is not always pretty, especially in the case of syphilis. However this was the fate of many women and still is with other STD's. I did not think the book was too long, nor drawn out on petty facts. Those "facts" are there to establish the rapid changes in society. The Victorian era is essentially the "Second Renaissance" and not necessarily an easy story to tell to this generation without it being just romanticized fluff. Isabella Beeton was a remarkable woman, and it is unfortunate that more women in the US are unfamiliar with her story. I will be giving this book to many young women as a lesson on "life". I'm 47 and have seen enough similar "tragedy" in our "Modern Times". Thus this is a timeless story. I give it 5 (five) stars!

I had seen "The Secret Life of Mrs. Beeton" and PBS and was interested to learn more. According to that show, Mrs. Beeton was the forerunner in creating recipes that gave a list of ingredients, followed by directions, instead of having it all jumbled together.

But I couldn't find that anywhere in this book. However, I may have skipped it as the book is super, super long, and the vast amount of it was extremely boring. Isabella Beeton was one of 21 children - 3 full siblings, 13 half, and 4 step. When it came time to get married, she chose the brother of one of her schoolmates, Sam Beeton. According to the author, he could not stand her family and would not visit, even though Isabella wrote him pleading (and annoying) letters during their engagement. She never figured out (although it was quite clear to the author) that the reason that he constantly bailed on her invitations was he did not want to be near her family. It couldn't have been because he had something better to do, never. Supposedly all of her letters were found in her husband's pocket after his death - must have been some big pocket as she wrote a lot of letters.

They finally get married (he was a publisher) and Isabella decides to "write" a book, which means she plagiarized from already existing housekeeping and cookery books to make her own. She was very concerned with how many servants one could afford, and the book concentrates overly much on this - as if all persons in London were fretting about such.

Well, supposedly Sam had syphllis, because before they were married, he frequented prostitutes. This was due, according to Ms. Hughes, to the habit of men not marrying until they could afford a wife. After which they were never known to visit a prostitute as there was no need. It was all society's fault, you see. Not the fault of young men who didn't care to control themselves. And the young women they married, who had to be virgins, were then rewarded by being infected with syphillis, thereby killing most of their babies (mostly just blobs with peeling skin) and causing them to die young themselves.

However, she really presents no proof of this, except for symptoms she claims they had, which could be attributed to any number of illnesses. Women were just supposed to "know" (difficult to believe they didn't know according to the author) that they and their husbands had syphillis by the symptoms, and by the miscarriages. However, at that time, most "nice" women really were kept in the dark about such things. The doctors knew, but didn't tell the wives, because there was nothing they could do about it and it would upset them. But supposedly, the husbands were told. According to the author, thousands of women at this time were infected by their husbands (due to the practice of waiting to marry). Even Isabella's brother died of it (she says) as well as his wife who was "tellingly" childless (when they didn't have children, that meant they had syphillis).

Anyway, Isabella dies (in 1865) a few days after the birth of her second (living)child, supposedly of puerperal fever, which apparently is an infection given to the mother by the doctor who did not wash his hands. The author seems to accept this as fact, but in the previous paragraph she states, "in fact there is no definite proof that Isabella was attended by a doctor...." Her family believed that Sam killed her by working her too hard at his publishing business.

In steps Matilda (nicknamed Myra) Browne, a journalist, and wife of Charles Browne. "After five years of marriage Matilda had yet to have a child" (however the author does not point out that this means she has syphillis as she does with other childless women). Sam and the kids move in, and the kids call Matilda "mama." Ms. Hughes tries to infer that this means that Sam and Matilda are lovers, despite the husband.

Page 349-350: When at age 40, Matilda becomes pregnant ("curious fact"), and "one month after Sam's death she gave birth to a boy."

Page 351:"Sam Beeton died at Sudbrook Park on 6 June at the age of forty-six."

Page 354: Only six weeks after Sam's death, Myra [Matilda]gave birth to baby Meredith."

Page 350: "Assuming that the pregnancy went to full term, then the baby would have been conceived in the first week of November. And it was just at that point, as the letter Sam wrote to Mayson on 13 November 1876 reveals, that Mr. Beeton and Mrs.B rowne happened to be away together, most probably in Paris." The line in the letter is "I wrote you both in one letter just before we left [presumably for Paris]." However, there is no letter given to us prior to Nov 13 (just the one dated April 28). So when did "they" leave? He never even says he's with Mrs. Browne, doesn't say where he is presently, or where they left for. And if they are currently in Paris together, on Nov 13, I believe that is called "the second week of November."

Okay, say the baby is born six weeks after June 6, which would put it around July 18. For a forty week pregnancy (full term) Matilda would have to have conceived around October 26th. Doctors use the first day of the last menstrual period as the date to count forward from, but of course ovulation (and conception) occurs two weeks after that. And if it was only a month after his death (her first claim), the baby would have been conceived around October 12th. So either the middle of October or the beginning of the last week of October. It's kind of pushing it to claim that she got pregnant the first week of November. And what if Sam had the date wrong in his letter anyway? Are we supposed to go by the word of a insane syphilitic person? Hmm.

Also, there is a photo of Isabella before the title page, which purports that she is "aged nineteen." But in the body of the book the author says she is twenty when the picture was taken. But the author is quick to snipe at early biographer (and relative) Nancy Spain for first writing that Isabella was "only five feet one inch tall," but in a writing two years later, "Bella had stretched an extra inch to five feet two inches."

The author seems to have some personal stake in: 1. That Sam had syphillis and gave it to Isabella, and 2. That Sam had an affair with Matilda Browne.

The problem is all this happened over a hundred years ago. When writing a biography covering this time period, it's very difficult to get the truth. But you don't just make it up, or push your beliefs on readers. Biographers should remain objective. Otherwise it's extremely irritating.

In spite of the hard work that has evidently gone into the writing of this book, the results are variable. Too much irrelevant material gets a look in, and too much tedious commentary about Mrs Bee's after-life. I feel somehow that Ms Hughes wanted to write something more meaningful, but was stumped by lack of firsthand evidence.