Money Matters: Taxes and How To Avoid Them

By Anita Davison

In the 16th century, Bristol was famous for wine smuggling from France and the Mediterranean: according to some reports only half the wine landed there paid duty, and the customs officers pocketed a £30 bribe for each ship that landed. It appears that the income from this illegal source was not fairly divided: when a clerk threatened to inform on his superiors, he spent 18 months in prison on a trumped-up charge of debt, and even when he reported the illicit dealings, no action was taken.

During the English Civil War, a new tax on domestic consumption, excise, was levied by Parliament to pay for the war. By 1660, this applied to items like chocolate, coffee, tea, beer, cider and spirits. Then in 1688 it was progressively widened to include essentials such as salt, leather, and soap.

Collecting taxes was a cumbersome and inefficient process with a hostile population where communication and transport links were slow and inefficient, so whole communities tended to become involved in the 'free-trade', as it was euphemistically known. The farm labourer helped carry goods inland; the parson bought cheap tea and wine; the local squire lent his horses for transport; the wealthy merchant obtained cut-price supplies of silks and lace; and at the very pinnacle of society, members of the gentry conducted foreign business through intermediaries involved in smuggling.

Attention in the 17th century focused on the tobacco trade with Bermuda and Virginia, from which the Bristol Customs authorities were quick to profit. William Culliford investigated the port in the 1680s, and found a rat's nest of fraudulent officials. The only tide-waiter considered to be honest was blind!

The standard way to smuggle goods in was for the ship's master to keep two sets of accounts. One showed the true cargo: this was for the benefit of its owners. A second set of books was presented to the customs authorities with a nod and a wink. One example was a ship called the Bristol Merchant, which docked with 9¼ tons of tobacco on board. It cost the crew £80 to get the customs officials to turn a blind eye, but this was less than half what they saved in duty. Pay-offs took place at Mother Grindham's Coffee House on Bristol quayside.

Houses in known smugglers haunts in the West Country set a bottle bottom in the plaster below a gable end of the house to indicate the owners were smugger sympathisers.

Whilst searching for a character to include in my latest wip, I came across a famous smuggler in the West Country during the 17th century named Thomas Coumbe, known as The Smuggler Squire. Born in Devon in 1620, he married a tall, auburn haired beauty named Bridget, who was much younger than himself and reputed to be a descendant of Sir Ralph de Blanchminster, a Cornish Knight who followed Richard Coeur de Lion on the Third Crusade.

Thomas Coumbe became a church warden in 1666, subsequently gaining great wealth from his association with the smugglers at Bude. His chief entry points for smuggling were Bude and Widemouth on the North Devon coast, at a spot from which signal flares from Widemouth Bay or Bude Haven could be seen by the smugglers at sea.

At a time when sand was used to break up the heavy loam of Devon before the employment of artificial manures, the Smuggling Squire made a weekly trip between Tavistock and Exeter on his sand cart, in which he hid tobacco, silk, brandy and wine.

According to old deeds, he owned land from "Sea to Sea", i.e. from Exeter on the South Devon coast to Bude on the north, a distance of 53 miles. He had a number of illegitimate children, to whom no doubt some of the farms were bequeathed. How could I resist adding this colourful character to my story?

A brown, hard, stern looking man with one blue eye, over the other he wore a patch having lost an eye in a duel, and regularly dressed in leather with a bob wig.

Some sections of this article were taken from: Smuggler's Britain by Richard Platt

Anita Davison is an historical fiction author with a love of 17th century England. DUKING DAYS: REBELLION was released in 2007 and the sequel, DUKING DAYS: REVOLUTION in 2008. TRENCARROW SECRET, a Victorian Gothic romance, will be released in June 2011 by MuseItUp Publishing.

Money Matters: The Country Without a Currency

By Blythe Gifford

If there's one thing we've learned during this month's focus on money matters, it's that the farther back you go in history, the more likely you'll find that "money" itself--coins, bills, and the like--has not always been the medium of exchange. Even after a country becomes accustomed to coins, they have not been the everyday necessity we would think. For example, for 13 years in the middle of the 17th century, Scotland minted no coins at all.

After 1603, Scotland and England were ruled by one King, but they remained two different countries with separate legal systems, Parliaments, government administrations, and currency.

When King Charles I assumed the throne in 1625, he authorized minting of a wide variety of Scottish and English coins. (Banknotes were not issued as legal tender until later.) Shown here is a silver, Scottish 20 pence piece, featuring the King on one side and the crowned thistle, symbol of Scotland, on the other. It was minted somewhere between 1337 and 1642.

As his reign wore on, Charles had more pressing concerns than Scottish coins, including a civil war which ended with his execution. Some of the British coins minted at this time were authorized in various cities where he found himself campaigning against enemies.

Charles' execution did not stop the protracted, bloody, complicated civil war. Scotland, which fought both against and for the Stuart kings over the course of the war, was occupied by Oliver Cromwell's army between 1651 and 1660.

Cromwell issued "Cromwell Crowns," and other money, in England, but didn't get around to authorizing any new Scottish coins. Some suggest that he planned to consolidate the two currencies.

It was not until after Charles II formally returned to the throne in 1660, that there was once again new Scottish coinage. The first new money was dated 1663.

So how did people live without money? In many ways.

First, of course, existing coins continued to circulate, though after 13 years, there was definitely a shortage. People might shave gold or silver off an existing coin, debasing the currency and, in essence, creating the 17th century version of inflation.

Second, English coins found their way across the border, though the conversion rate was NOT one to one. (The value of Scots currency was fixed at 12/1 with English.)

Third, some businesses may have issued "tokens," sort of a local currency, good for local trade only. Such tokens were wide-spread in England, but exceedingly rare in Scotland.

Fourth, there was counterfeiting, despite severe legal penalties. Unlike today, when counterfeiters produce the biggest bills, it was the smaller pieces, in amounts ordinary people would actually use, that were most counterfeited in the 17th century.

But most important, Scotland at this time was still not a "money economy." While it had moved beyond a strictly feudal model, the average person in the country, where 90% of the people still lived, did not have much need for coins.

The family would work land held by a major landowner. They grew much of their own food, made many of their own clothes, and could trade or barter for most of the other goods and services. The only goods they needed to purchase were things like salt, iron tools, and cooking pots.

Most paid their rents and were paid for services in kind and even millers and blacksmiths did not work full time at their trades. So a shortage of circulating currency was not the hardship it would be for us.

It was, however, a challenge for an author, trying to put a coin in the hand of her 17th century heroine.

For more detail on all of this, see this excellent site. Images courtesy of CNG Coins, used under GNU Free Documentation License.

Blythe Gifford has written five 14th century medieval romances for Harlequin Historicals, featuring characters born on the wrong side of the royal blanket, most recently HIS BORDER BRIDE in May 2010. The Chicago Tribune called her work "the perfect balance between history and romance." Her 2011 release will be set in the 17th century Scottish Borders.

Money Matters: What's Love Got to Do With It?

By Amanda McIntyre

The worth of a woman--what establishes it? Is it gold or diamonds? Is it the success of her career or her kindness to others? These days, the worth of a woman can be a compilation of many things and not only comparable, but in many ways equal to that of her betrothed. But a look back into history shows this was not always the case. In many cultures, there was in place the custom of a dowry.

The "dowry" is different from "bride price" in that it is what the woman brings to the marriage. Bride price, in contrast, is the amount of wealth paid to the family of the bride by the groom's family upon marriage. In terms of marketability, "bride price" means the perceived value of the bride to the groom and his family. A custom still practiced, though often despised, in some countries today.

Throughout history there have been many forms of determining the worth of a woman to a marriage arrangement, the operative word being, and "arrangement." As far back as the Babylonian "Code of Hammurabi," the oldest written law known to man, the dowry is accepted as part of many societal systems. Back in the day, the most recognized forms of dowry might range from sheep and cows, to property and gold. In times of war (a constant occurrence) alliances were made to strengthen political alliances, combine armies and land against opposing forces. This often led to a proverbial chess game of sons and daughters being used by their father's to jockey themselves into greater positions of wealth and power.

Dowries served many different purposes, depending on the culture and in some cases, if a woman's family could not produce a suitable dowry for the groom's family, it was possible that she would be forbidden to marry and forced to become a concubine in the household of a wealthy man. Dowries were also seen as a sign of gratitude for accepting another mouth to feed in a household and in most circumstances, the dowry of the bride would be returned if the marriage ended. Very rarely, did the dowry improve or empower the bride other than to ensure her protection from ill treatment by her husband, who would forfeit his newly found wealth if found committing such a crime.

While doing research for my medieval tales for both "WINTER AWAKENING" (in WINTER'S DESIRE) and "SACRED VOWS" (in THE PLEASURE GARDEN), I discovered that the Gaelic countries were one of the few cultures where the daughter was the heir to her father's property as well as his army. Therefore, a marriage to a Gaelic woman was advantageous in terms of her husband receiving the benefit of her inheritance at her father's death. This made marriages between clans a political move in strengthening territories against warring clans.

In Rome, a bride and her dowry (usually money and property) even after marriage might remain under the control of her father. If given to the groom, he assumed full control. As was the case in most dowry agreements, if the marriage ended, the dowry would be returned.

In early England, dowries among nobles were often traded between families in grand public displays of a betrothal of their children, who might only be seven at the time. These engagements acted largely as a promissory note between the two kingdoms showing a solidarity to one another, but which often times fell apart along the way. Upon marriage, the male (sometimes as young as 14) would receive full rights over his bride (who might only be 12!) yet still lose everything should the marriage end, or he showed her harm in any way. Marriages could also be called off entirely if the dowry was not suitable to either kingdom. Dowries given by a noble for his son, might be of substantial gain to the bride's family as they would be losing a part of their lineage while the strengthening the prospect of another.

In rural areas during the middle Ages, the brides were given items to set up their household, while a groom might be given the tools to begin a farm. By the Victorian era, a woman after being educated was presented as marriage material to society and usually a large dowry accompanied her as an enticement for the best possible suitor. Though both parties would disclose their wealth to the inspection of both families, once the marriage took place, the woman no longer had any say over her property or possessions. A woman was not even allowed to draw up a will for her children. Her husband, if he so chose, could leave her property at his discretion to any illegitimate children he might have as opposed to his own.

Even into the American movement west, dowries had a place in cultures, but became more of a preparation of the inevitability of marriage with mothers teaching their daughters to quilt and sew, making things to be placed in keeping until the day of their wedding. This custom later turned to the advent of Hope Chests, which for a time was popular, but died out in the late sixties.

Though the practice of bride pricing still takes place in some countries even today, the custom of dowries given as a form of enticement has given way to pre-nuptial agreements protecting the wealth and properties of both the bride and groom involved. As for me? I like to think that romance is the attraction and passion and hard work to build a lifetime together is the glue that holds a relationship together.

Question to ponder: How do you measure a persons' worth? Is it stature, wealth, character? Share your thoughts!

Researching history, listening to all types of music from classical to Kamelot, spending time with family & friends, and appeasing her strange infatuation with the Great Lakes, Amanda McIntyre to challenge her characters and her readers to look beyond the ordinary to the extraordinary, where anything is possible! Til next time, be well.

Money Matters: Tyrian Purple

By Stephanie Dray

Today we say the rich are born with silver spoons in their mouths. In the ancient world, they said the wealthy were born to the purple. This phrase alludes to the royal robes dyed with a precious shade of deep purple originally created by the Phoenicians in Tyre.

Tyrian purple was a hue worn by royals and conquerors including Alexander the Great. Romans had a great affinity for it too, and their bright white senatorial togas were bordered with a great purple band. Tyrian purple was not only a commodity, but also a status symbol. It may have even accounted for the assassination of Julius Caesar who wore the royal purple so often that his colleagues feared he intended to make himself King.

The true color cannot be accurately identified now; the best we can do is reconstruct it based on the surviving description of the ancients, but we do know that redder shades of purple were considered to be inferior. It was the darkest, richest purple that they prized, and this may have been achieved by dipping the fabric twice in two slightly different shades, one redder, one bluer.

Whatever the methodology, the purple dye itself was so expensive that it was worth its weight in silver. The salesman of a silken garment dyed properly in the stuff might be able to buy a small city with the proceeds. The reason it was so costly is because of its enduring quality, one that improved, rather than faded, with age. And also it was wildly expensive because of the process used to make it.

The source of the dye was the murex brandaris, which is a name for a spiny sea snail. While it's possible to capture one of these little gastropods and poke it until it excretes a defensive mucus containing at least one of the ingredients required to make the precious purple, milking the murex snails was entirely too labor intensive. To meet demand, millions of murex were harvested. More than a thousand shells were needed to make even one gram of dye.

The exact process by which the dye was made has not been perfectly reproduced to date, but it was described by Pliny and involved vats of rotting shellfish. The smell was so terrible that dye factories had to be built far away from population centers. Mountains of shells attest to their presence.

The heroine of my debut novel, LILY OF THE NILE, is Cleopatra Selene, daughter of the more famous Cleopatra VII of Egypt. Together with her husband King Juba II, Selene built several purple dye factories on islands off the coast of Mauretania. Perhaps unable to replicate the exact shade of purple invented by the Tyrians, they called their own Gaetulian purple after one of the native Berber tribes. Gaetulian purple was prized almost as much as the Tyrian variety and was probably responsible for funding many of Juba and Selene's building projects and cultural programs.

Stephanie Dray's debut historical fiction novel, LILY OF THE NILE, will release January 2011 from Berkley Books. The sequel is expected to release at the end of 2011. Both novels are set in the Augustan Age and feature Cleopatra's daughter.

Money Matters: The Rise of Rothschild Bank

By Michelle Styles

Frankfurt in the 18th century was not a good place to be Jewish in many ways. Confined to a filthy overcrowded ghetto which they were forbidden to leave without a special pass, life was short and cheap but it was from this place that one of the world's great banking dynasties, the Rothschild Bank, would emerge.

On 23 February 1744, Mayer Amschel Rothschild was born. Mayer Rothschild is ranked 7th most influential businessman of all time by Forbes Magazine. He basically changed the concept of international finance. By the time he was twelve, he was an orphan as both his parents died in one of the frequent epidemics but Mayer was lucky. He was sent to Hanover and learnt the trade of being a court agent. From there, he became the court agent to Prince William of Hesse-Kassel and married the daughter of another court agent. But the main base of their operation was the overcrowded ghetto in Frankfurt.

Their five sons--Amschel Mayer, Saloman, Nathan Mayer, Kalman and Jakob--became the most famous bankers in Europe, but it was Mayer Amschel who oversaw it all. He rapidly realised that there were fortunes to be made by wheeling and dealing in foreign, if one could get reliable information. One by one the brothers were sent out into the world to found businesses for their father. Nathan Rothschild first went to Manchester for the cotton but later went into banking in London. He specialised in transferring large sums of money legally or illegally to those in need of hard cash and no one needed it more than the British His brother Jakob went to France, Saloman to Vienna and Kalman to Naples.

Amschel stayed in Frankfurt. The brothers communicated with their father in Judendeutsch, evolving their own codes which gave them the edge in the business world. It is largely through the efforts of Nathan and Jakob that the English had enough money to defeat Napoleon. Developing a taste for cloak and dagger work, Nathan and Jakob indulged in the smuggling of gold bullion through France and into Spain to finance Wellington's operation. London was codename Jerusalem and Rabbi Moses was the transfer of funds. They liberally oiled the wheels of finance with backhanders etc but really there were very few rivals. The Rothschilds also had a very good system of carrier pigeons and were consistently able to get the news before anyone else.

There is an unfortunate legend that Nathan Rothschild fooled the City by selling shares when he alone knew of Wellington's victory, using his inside knowledge to make an absolute killing. The truth is that his first action when he learnt of the victory was to inform the British government. The ending of the Napoleonic War spelt an end to many of Rothschild activities and huge profits. However by then they were fabulously wealthy and the European banking system had changed forever.

Michelle Styles is passionate about history and passionate romance. An author over 16 books for Harlequin Historical, she writes in a variety of time periods from Roman and Viking through to early Victorian. A QUESTION OF IMPROPRIETY will be a December 2010 Harlequin Historical release.

Money Matters: The Tally Stick System

By Lisa Marie Wilkinson

Throughout the centuries people have paid their debts and bought and sold goods using forms of exchange ranging from feathers to salt to pigs and including almost everything in between. The American Indians using Wampum and the denizens of Fiji using whales' teeth as currency would both probably agree upon one thing: it's important to have a medium of exchange when you need what someone is selling but the seller doesn't have any need for what you have to offer in trade. Anything can be perceived to be money if people agree it has value.

It is generally believed that the tally record originated as a recording or counting device for tasks such as tracking menstrual cycles via a lunar phase calendar. One of the oldest examples of a tally record dating back to 30,000 BC was found in a cave in the Lebombo mountains of South Africa. The artifact consists of 29 distinct notches on the leg bone of a baboon.

As commerce developed through medieval Europe, another use for the tally record was found. With coins in short supply and the population largely illiterate, a bookkeeping method was needed to record mutual exchanges and outstanding debt. King Henry the First, son of William the Conqueror, is credited with inventing the tally stick system when he ascended the throne of England in 1100 AD.

In England, tallies took on the characteristics of today's credit card system as lenders carved out the details of the loan using a system of notches to signify denominations on the surface of a small squared willow, pine, r hazel-wood stick. At the top of the tally, a cut the thickness of the palm of a man's hand was made, representing one thousand pounds, then subsequent cuts were made to designate other values. The breadth of a thumb meant one hundred pounds, the width of a little finger represented twenty pounds, the width of a barleycorn translated to one pound, and so on. The stick was then split in half lengthwise through the center of the carving, creating a "split tally," which prevented either user from adding notches to his half of the tally stick.

Each party to the transaction was given one half of the marked tally as proof. Because the type of wood used to create the tally was selected for its clear grain, the grain of the wood was similar to the watermark on today's paper money. The two halves would be perfectly matched, fraud was difficult to perpetrate, and refinements were added over time to make the documentation of the transaction virtually tamper-proof. The two halves of the stick were made different lengths, with the lender given the longer part of the stick, referred to as the stock, which formed the basis for the modern term "stockholder" while the shorter portion, called the foil, was given to the party who had received the goods or funds. Literally, the debtor received "the short end of the stick."

When the borrower returned to the lender with the goods or money owed, the two halves of the record would be "tallied," and any attempts at fraud would become immediately apparent when the two halves of the split tally were combined.

King Henry expanded the use of tally sticks to include the collection of taxes by local sheriffs, creating a demand for them, and the sticks began to circulate as a form of money as a result. Revenues owed to the Crown were collected in this manner, and the tally stick system formed the basis of the British Empire until the formation of the Bank of England at the end of the 17th century. Tally sticks found their way into medieval courts as evidence, and into the works of William Shakespeare, who referred to them in Sonnet 122.2 from Henry VI: "nor need I tallies thy dear love to score."

When King Charles II adopted the idea of selling royal debt at a discount, he nearly plunged the country into bankruptcy by selling tallies at a discount for the purpose of financing war.

A century later, the sticks were still in use, but the tally stick system was eventually abolished in 1826, when the sticks were removed from circulation and stored in the Houses of Parliament. In 1834, Parliament ordered all sticks destroyed, and two cartloads of the tallies were scheduled to be burned. Rather than give the sticks away to be used as firewood, or burning them in an outdoor fire, a decision was made to burn them in two furnaces in the House of Lords. The resulting conflagration set fire to the wood paneling and both Houses of Parliament were destroyed.

Lisa Marie Wilkinson is an IPPY Gold Medal winning author of historical adventure-romance. Her latest novel, STOLEN PROMISE, featuring vibrant Gypsy characters and breath-taking romance, is available now.

Money Matters: Anglo-Saxon Wergild

By Lisa Yarde

In the sixth century, King Ethelbert of Kent established the wergild, or "man-payment", which fixed the amount of compensation a victim's family could demand for a murder. The Anglo-Saxons hoped to prevent the more common solution for punishing perpetrators of violent crimes: blood feuds between families, a vicious cycle of retribution that lasted generations. By the eighth century, wergild extended to all kinds of crimes, such as theft of property, excommunication, breach of the king's peace, rape or marrying a widow within a year of her husband's death.

The wergild helped define varying classes of society. A higher social status meant the victim's family could demand a larger payment. Everyone, except slaves, had an assigned worth that determined the value of clergymen and kings to the lowliest freemen. The varying Anglo-Saxon kingdoms established amounts of wergild. In eighth century Kent, a nobleman was worth 300 shillings, while the wergild of a freeman was 100 shillings. Kentish law defined a shilling as the worth of a cow.

In other parts of England, where the cost of one sheep set the value of a shilling, the value of a nobleman was 1200 shillings, with 200 shillings for the value a freeman. Under King Alfred the Great, acts of mutilation required specific compensation: 30 shillings for cutting off an ear, 60 for a nose, 9 for a finger and 20 for a toe. Women held the same wergild as male members of their class, and pregnant women had their own value, plus half of that for an unborn child.

If the perpetrator of a crime had been determined, a precise set of rules determined how he or she should pay the wergild. His or her family often disassociated themselves; those who provided shelter to a murderer might forfeit their lands to the king. Hostages in varying number from both sides of the perpetrator's family stayed with the victim's family as a surety.

During this time, the king's peace proscribed blood feuds. After twenty-one days, the victim's family received an initial payment (healsfang) of the wergild. Another twenty-one days later, the overlord of the victim, be it the king, a member of the clergy, or a nobleman, received some compensation (manbot), for being deprived of the victim's service through death or of rents owed, through theft. The king also received a payment (fihtwite) for the initial "breaking of his peace" during which the crime was perpetrated. The victim's family received the rest of their compensation in installments. Often, the payments went only to male members of a family.

What happened when a victim's family did not receive the wergild? In the late tenth century, the nobleman Wulfbald fought with his stepmother over property from her late husband. The widow demanded the wergild, but Wulfbald refused even when King Ethelred ordered it. His property was forfeit to the king, but he held it until his death. Wulfbald's wife and son inherited his claim. They arranged the death of a cousin, Eadmer, who supported Wulfbald's stepmother along with fifteen of Eadmer's men. Only the intervention of the archbishop of Canterbury and the threat of excommunication ended the rebellion of Wulfbald's son.

Failing wergild payments, it did not always devolve into blood feuds. In 1049, Earl Sweyn Godwinson of Hereford, the son of the powerful Earl of Wessex, had a disagreement with his cousin Earl Bjorn Estrithson of Huntingdon over some land. He arranged a meeting with Bjorn and killed him. King Edward the Confessor exiled Sweyn for the murder of his cousin. When the king declared him nithing, "a man without honor," Sweyn fled the country. His father Godwin interceded and the king allowed Sweyn's return, provided he agreed to undertake a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. He completed it, but died on the journey home. He never paid the wergild to Bjorn's family.

Lisa J. Yarde is a historical fiction author. Her ON FALCON'S WINGS, an epic medieval novel chronicling the starstruck romance between Norman and Saxon lovers, is available now.

Money Matters: If You Don't Want Our Money, New York...

By Anna Randol

In the 1870s in New York, the Knickerbockers and Old Money families that made up the city's elite were in trouble. Rich newcomers were swarming New York, demanding acceptance and recognition. They were families that had made their money through industry--railroads, armaments, and machinery. And these upstarts knew nothing of the Knickerbocker ideals of thrift, modesty, and conservatism. For instance, rather than leaving a dress from Paris in a trunk for a year to avoid being too showy and ostentatious as a proper women should, these gauche women would wear a new gown the very season they bought it.

The ruling women of New York society fought back against the interlopers by closing ranks and inventing increasingly intricate rules for how things should be done properly. Seeing the futility of trying to break into New York society, the mothers of some the upstart families whisked their young, beautiful, wealthy daughters to Europe.

One of these women was Clara Jerome. Knowing her husband's scandals had made it impossible for her three daughters to be accepted into New York society, she packed them up and moved to Paris. When a Prussian army invaded Paris a short time later to end the Franco-Prussian war, however, the family moved to London. To her delight, English society proved far more accepting than what she'd left behind in New York. Leading this acceptance was Albert, Prince of Wales. The prince was especially fond of these new, charming American women and English society followed his lead. After all, by this time, many of England's aristocratic families were deeply in debt. They took one look at the gloriously wealthy American girls and saw a way to mend roofs on manor houses and modernize drafty old castles.

All three of Clara's daughters married into well-respected English families. But perhaps the most famous was Clara's middle daughter, Jennie. She was considered one of the most beautiful women of her time. In 1874, she met and fell in love with Lord Randolph Churchill, the second son of the Duke of Marlborough. In exchange for marriage to the duke's son, the Jeromes provided a dowry of ₤50,000, an exorbitant amount for the time. Eventually the couple had two sons Winston (yes, that Winston Churchill) and John.

Following Clara's lead, wave after wave of American mothers found that money bought their daughters not only the acceptance they craved but spouses among the aristocracy of England and Europe.

Anna Randol writes sultry, adventurous Regency romances. Her debut novel, set in the heart of the Ottoman Empire, will be released by Avon in the beginning of 2012.

Money Matters: Inflation in Pre-Hitler Germany

By Delia DeLeest

Hyperinflation is exactly what it sounds like: money becoming worth less and less in a very short period of time. Pre-World War II experienced this and the result affected the entire world and the course of history.

Though the Armistice in November of 1918 ended the actual fighting of World War I, it took over six months of negotiations to form an actual peace treaty. The Treaty of Versailles was signed June 28, 1919, five years to the day of the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand (and the Mrs. Archduke, who is always forgotten), which is the event that started the whole war ball rolling in the first place.

One of the provisions of the treaty was that Germany accept full responsibility for the war and that they pay reparations of $31.4 billion (equivalent to $400 billion in 2010 U.S. dollars). It was felt by many, both Germans and others, that this was excessive and the signing of the treaty caused distrust of the government and extreme unrest among the German people. Along with the monetary reparations, Germany was also stripped of its provinces and territories. There was no way Germany was going to be able to pay this bill and they didn't even bother trying. This, of course, did not go over well with their creditors.

The original war debt created within Germany itself also had to be figured into this equation. During the war, the mark was also taken off the gold standard, thus making it easier to simply print more money as it was needed, thus feeding the inflationary need for more money for purchasing. These are only a few of the factors that caused the horrendous decline of the mark; thousands of other things combined from before, during and after the war to decimate the country's monetary system.

In December of 1919, the exchange rate was 47 marks to one US dollar, by December of 1922 it was 7,000 to 1 and by December of 1923, (are you ready for this?) one US dollar was the equivalent of 4,200,000,000,000 marks. I double and triple checked and, yes, that is the right number of zeros. Children were given stacks of marks to play with like building blocks, because it was cheaper than buying actual blocks to play with.

The result of this inflation was awful. Those who thought they were well-off became paupers overnight. Exchanging your money for foreign currency was illegal, as was hoarding food and other necessities. If you wanted to survive, you were forced to break the law. Farmers who had food available in the country refused to ship it into the city. If the food made it to its destination without being stolen along the way, the money people wanted to use to pay for the produce was relatively worthless. There are heartbreaking stories of farmers dumping their milk while people starved in the cities. Policemen were pulled from their horses and the unfortunate animals were butchered right there in the street in a frantic quest for sustenance.

In response, the government tried various things, but printing more money only fed the inflationary fire and raising taxes only increased the cost of living, which again, fed inflation. Is it any wonder that during those times one such as Adolf Hitler, a charismatic nationalist who promised a bright future, came into power? The inflation didn't create Hitler, but it made Hitler possible. The people were looking for a savior, someone who was willing to do something different than their government in the past and he certainly fit the bill.

Delia DeLeest is fascinated by all things 1920s. She suspects she was once a flapper or, more probably, a bootlegger in a previous life. Her third 1920s era book, NOT LOOKING FOR TROUBLE, is being released from The Wild Rose Press at the end of October.

Money Matters: No Use for Money in Ancient Egypt

By Jean Adams

For the most part, the ancient Egyptians had no conception of the use of money, which can make things challenging for writers of that period.

During most of ancient Egypt's pharaonic history, there was no money as such, at least in the form of coins. Not until the middle of the first millennium BC were any coins used in Egypt. At first, they were of foreign extraction.

The ancient Egyptian economy was based on redistribution and reciprocity, set prices in units of value that referred directly to commodities. For the purposes of trade and exchange, at first the Egyptians calculated the value of goods and services in units that were related to the necessities of life. Later, the calculation was made in terms of the weights of metals, such as copper or silver, their weight being used as a reference for value.

During the New Kingdom, information comes from Dier el Medina and from documents relating to shipping. All these sources are evidence that payments were made in the form of bread, beer, grain, meat and cloth, the necessities of life. These rations were expressed in units of bread and beer, the most basic Egyptian diet. It is likely that the lowest wages, close to subsistence levels, were paid in bread and beer.

We know that the standard basic wage consisted of ten loaves and one-third to two full jugs of beer per day. The Egyptian beer was much less alcoholic than modern beer, and higher in calorie content. This was usually the rations of the lowest paid staff members, and consisted of little more then enough to keep one alive. Others were paid in multiples of the standard wage, varying from twice to fifty times that of the standard wage. The highest paid official would receive thirty-eight and one-third loaves while the lowest paid worker received one and one-third loaves.

During the New Kingdom, the craftsmen at Dier el Medina received all the necessities of life from their employer. They were not only provided with food, but also cooking fuel, clothing, the houses where they lived, and the tools of their trade. Yet, the robust trade that amongst themselves indicates that those workers required additional goods and services that the state did not provide.

The deben is a measure of weight that was used for gold, silver, and copper. One deben of copper weighs between 90 and 91 grams. It was divided into ten kite.

We are able to give some approximate values of various commodities, particularly during the New Kingdom.

sack of wheat (c.58 kg): 1 to 2 deben
1 litre of oil: 1 deben
1 loaf of bread: 0.1 deben
1 litre of beer: ½ deben
1 cake: 0.2 deben
1 litre of wine: 1 deben
1 bundle of vegetables: ½ deben
50 fish: 2 deben
1 bronze cup: 5 deben
1 leather bucket: 3 deben
1 basket: 4 deben
1 shirt: 2½ deben
1 pair of sandals: 2 deben
1 razor: 1 deben
1 mirror: 6 deben
1 fly-swat: 1 deben
1 bed: 12-20 deben
1 chair: 20 deben
1 table: 15 deben
1 sleeping mat: 2 deben
1 goat: 2½ deben
1 donkey: 25 deben
1 cow: up to 140 deben
1 bull: 120 deben
1 ox: 60 deben
1 slave girl: 4 deben of silver
1 ordinary male slave: 3 deben of silver

Prices were set by the strength of each trader's desire to conclude an exchange and each individual's skill at arriving at a good price. For example, if there were a shortage of baskets, and one really needed a basket, the price could go up. And of course, if there was a shortage of grain, it could become more valuable. Hence, use was probably more important than abstract value and the value of goods grew according to the need for them. Furthermore, ancient customs and not monetary advantage dictated many prices.

There is evidence for inflation and price fluctuation. During the reign of Ramses II, one deben of silver was valued as one-hundred deben of copper. By the reign of Ramses IX, one deben of silver was valued at sixty deben of copper. It is unlikely that the government would have intervened in setting prices. The Egyptian state regulated the standard measures of length and volume so the basic ratio of one sack of grain to one deben of copper seems not to have varied.

The Egyptians were able to create a relatively complex economy and conduct business in a way that met their needs without ever fully coming up with the concept of money. And we must remember that it worked for almost three thousand years.

Jean Adams' latest contemporary romance, YESTERDAY'S DREAMS, is due out soon from The Wild Rose Press. It is the first in a two-book series set in the New Zealand seaside town of Patiki Bay. Her trilogy set in ancient Egypt is a work in progress, but her time travel Egyptian romance, ETERNAL HEARTS, is available now in print from Highland Press.

Money Matters: Diamonds in Kimberley

By Carrie Lofty

In writing my upcoming release FLAWLESS, a Victorian-era romance set in colonial South Africa, I became fascinated by the speed of change in the Kimberley diamond mines. This massive change made a select few individuals unbelievably wealthy, while forever changing the politics, culture and future of South Africa. All for a few little rocks...

In 1866, while playing on his father's farm on the banks of the Orange River, young colonist Erasmus Jacobs found a 21.25 carat diamond that eventually went on to be called the Eureka Diamond. Three years later, another colonist found a 47.69 carat beauty, now called the Star of South Africa (right), which promptly sold and resold in Europe for upwards of £25,000 (roughly $2.8 million in today's money).

Thus began the great South African diamond rush. A mere twenty-two years later, Cecil Rhodes (pictured) bought out Barney Bernato and formed the De Beers diamond monopoly. During those years Great Britain went to war in the Cape, annexed territory, and did all they could to secure the land around Kimberley, where miners hoped to strike it rich. In 1882 Kimberley became the first city in the Southern Hemisphere to have electrical street lighting, and it was said that the small, otherwise innocuous frontier town boasted the highest population of billionaires in the world.

However, as with most rushes, the wealth was neither consistent nor equitably distributed amongst those who participated.

Kimberley's Big Hole, a kimberlite pipe stuffed full of diamonds, was still mostly dirt and worthless rock. For every ton of rock excavated, only .22 to .5 carats were discovered. This massive undertaking required roughly 9,000 miners in the Hole on any given day, with a worker replacement rate of 30% annually.

Paying their miners became owners' single most draining expense, and unions were a hotbed of controversy up until the moment of Rhodes' monopolistic triumph. Miners earned roughly £26/year (£13,900 in earnings today), but food and supply costs out on the isolated Karoo, where trains didn't arrive until the mid-1880s, were extortionary. Tradesmen experienced in geology and diamond assessment could earn upwards of a pound a day, which drew adventurous men by the thousands.

The difficulty with this rush also had to do with boom and bust cycles. Brilliants, or gemstone quality diamonds, suffered from massive pricing swings. The Kimberley mines in 1880 produced a total of 3,090,000 carats of diamonds that sold at an average of £1 7s each, for a total of £4,171,500 in gross revenue. In 1881, production increased but the average price per carat dropped to only a pound, for a year's decline of £796,000.

These busts drove out smaller miners. Men and eventually corporations consolidated bankrupt plots into larger and larger mines. By 1879 the number of registered claimants was down from several hundred to just 130. Ten years later only De Beers remained, which halted the boom and bust cycle. The De Beers monopoly meant suppliers could no longer charge such overinflated prices for their goods. Those remaining retailers had to bow to the wishes of the company, as did every employee. Prices stabilized dramatically, but the era of an ordinary miner striking it rich was over.

Carrie Lofty's latest historical romances, SCOUNDREL'S KISS and SONG OF SEDUCTION, are available now. In 2011 watch for Carrie's new Victorian series from Pocket, as well as her "Dark Age Dawning" romance trilogy from Berkley, co-written with Ann Aguirre under the name Ellen Connor. "Historical romance needs more risk-takers like Lofty." ~ Wendy the Super Librarian