The Art of a Victorian Mermaid ~ On the Keeping of an Agenda, and the Civilised Ordering of One’s Days

There arrives, in the life of every thoughtful woman, a realisation both humbling and liberating; that the true difficulty has never been a want of hours, but a want of order that feels kind.

The modern world, with all its ingenious contrivances, urges us toward haste, incessant measurement, and the rather exhausting notion that one must constantly prove one’s usefulness. In such an atmosphere, even the most diligent spirit may find herself accomplished, yet quietly discomposed.

The Victorian Mermaid, however, declines to live in such a state.

Her agenda is not a device for conquest, nor a ledger of relentless striving, but a civilising influence—a means of restoring calm authority to her days, and grace to the manner in which she inhabits them.

To keep an agenda, in this sense, is not to command one’s life, but to tend it.

On the Matter of Obtaining One’s Sea-Legs

The phrase to obtain one’s sea-legs was once used to describe the moment a sailor ceased to stagger upon unfamiliar ground and learned, at last, to move with ease and confidence.

So it is with life.

When circumstances alter—when grief, responsibility, ambition, or calling reshape the landscape of our days—we may find ourselves momentarily unbalanced, uncertain how to stand upright again. The remedy is seldom greater exertion. It is, rather, balance learned gently and practised faithfully.

This agenda was devised for precisely such moments.

It offers not urgency, but steadiness; not command, but companionship; guiding a woman as she learns once more to walk gracefully between land and tide.

The Four Dimensions of a Victorian Mermaid’s Life

LIVE — The Physical Life

The first obligation of a well-ordered life is the care of the body and the dwelling that shelters it.

Here, we attend to nourishment taken wisely, rest granted without apology, movement approached with moderation, and the practical arrangements that allow life to proceed without constant strain. The Victorian Mermaid neither tyrannises her body nor neglects it in pursuit of loftier aims. She understands that strength, like beauty, flourishes best under gentle and consistent care.

Within the pages of this agenda, the physical life is tended quietly—without spectacle, and without reproach.

LOVE — The Social and Emotional Life

No life, however admirably arranged, can flourish in isolation.

This dimension concerns our relations with others, and with our own hearts: the cultivation of friendship, the discernment of boundaries, and the art of remaining open without becoming overextended. It reminds us that belonging is achieved not through obligation, but through presence; not through excess, but through sincerity.

The agenda invites consideration of where warmth is required, where discretion is prudent, and where emotional order may be restored with kindness.

LEARN — The Mental Life

The Victorian Mermaid is, by temperament, a student.

She reads, writes, reflects, and studies—not for display, but for the quiet refinement of understanding. The mind, like a well-kept garden, rewards patience and attentive care.

This portion of the agenda is devoted to intellectual pursuits and thoughtful creation, offering a place to record studies, observations, and the slow accumulation of wisdom gathered over time.

LEAVE A LEGACY — The Spiritual Life

Lastly, there is the question of meaning.

To leave a legacy is not merely to be remembered, but to live in harmony with one’s conscience and one’s calling. This dimension attends to the soul’s relationship with the Eternal—however one names it—and to the enduring works formed through integrity, devotion, and care.

Here, the agenda holds space for spiritual reflection, artistic contribution, and the long view of a life shaped deliberately rather than hurriedly.

Why This Agenda Is Kept Differently

This is not an agenda for those in pursuit of speed.

It does not scold, nor does it insist upon constant achievement. It is a companion rather than a taskmaster—a place to return to when the world grows loud, and to record what truly matters once clarity has been restored.

Its language is old-fashioned by intention, for old words remember what modern ones often forget; that dignity belongs in daily life, that beauty steadies the nerves, and that order need not be unkind.

A Closing Reflection

When a woman lives with awareness in all four dimensions—physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual—she ceases to lurch from obligation to obligation. She moves instead with composure, having obtained her sea-legs at last.

This agenda exists not to perfect you, but to keep you company—as you undertake the quiet, essential work of becoming.

The Art of a Victorian Mermaid — A Letter of Re~Introduction

A Letter of Introduction from Lady Raquel Carter

My dearest friends and fellow sojourners,
For as long as I can remember, I have lived by a quiet philosophy — a rhythm I call The Art of a Victorian Mermaid. It is both a way of living and a method of becoming; a gentle but profound guide toward harmony in body, mind, heart, and soul.

This art is founded upon four sacred pillars — or what I lovingly call the quadrants of a balanced mermaid life:

• The Art of a Victorian Mermaid Life – Live (Physical)

• The Art of a Victorian Mermaid Love – Love (Social / Emotional)

• The Art of a Victorian Mermaid Mastery – Learn (Mental)

• The Art of a Victorian Mermaid Soul – Leave a Legacy (Spiritual)

Each pillar represents a quadrant of a balanced existence, harmonising body, heart, mind, and spirit, as any true mermaid or Victorian gentlewoman of whom she might strive.
For decades, I have lived by these rhythms privately; tending the cottage, studying philosophy and beauty, refining my inner world, and anchoring my spirituality within the tides of daily life.

Now, at long last, I feel called to bring these quiet disciplines into life form — to share them with the world as a living curriculum of grace and equilibrium.

I intend to slowly launch this series so that women may grow familiar with each pillar in its own time — to see it, feel it, and live it. This isn’t a rush to the finish, but rather an introduction to a new pattern of being — one that feels restorative, timeless, and profoundly feminine.

Through this structure, I wish to help women remember the art of balance — to dwell in domestic peace while nurturing intellect, to cultivate tenderness without losing purpose, and to create lives that feel both magical and meaningful.

In learning the four quadrants, women will come to embody balance itself — living harmoniously within all aspects of their being, much like the steady yet flowing tide of the sea.

This is the heart of my mission, and the true essence of The Art of a Victorian Mermaid.

I am now preparing to slowly launch this as a living teaching and lifestyle — a system that will gently guide women to reclaim their balance, beauty, and sense of belonging through rhythm rather than rush.

Alongside these pillars, and in conjunction, I will also be unveiling The Victorian Mermaid’s Agenda — the personal study and planner system I have cultivated since I was seventeen years old. It has been the compass of my own refinement, developed over decades of living as a gentlewoman, artist, wife, and mother.

This agenda is not a modern productivity planner, nor a business tool — it is a living rhythm, inspired by the timeless principles of Stephen Covey yet reimagined through a feminine, old-world lens. It marries purpose with poetry, practicality with peace. I have perfected it quietly across the seasons of my life, and now wish to teach women how to use it as a companion in their own journey toward equilibrium and elegance.

Through The Art of a Victorian Mermaid (Obtaining Your Sealegs) and The Victorian Mermaid’s Agenda, I wish to help women rediscover their natural harmony — to become steady yet soft, focused yet free, devoted yet alive with wonder.

It is the thriving foundation of how I have lived for decades, and now it shall take its place in the world—not as a fleeting trend, but as a timeless heritage luxury way of being.

Most affably yours until my next enchanting swim,
Lady Raquel Carter

On the Matter of Writing, and the Proper Encouragement Thereof

Addressed Affectionately to My Mermaid Darlings By a Lady Who Prefers Ink, Tea, and a Certain Degree of Order

My dearest Mermaid darlings,
It has long been my private conviction—though I confess I have not always been bold enough to speak it aloud—that writing is far less an act of exertion than one of arrangement.

The words themselves, I assure you, are generally quite willing to present themselves. It is merely the manner of their invitation that determines whether they arrive with elegance or decline the engagement entirely.

Thus, before I permit myself to write, I must first attend—most dutifully—to the table.
Of Tea, Refreshment, and Small Deceptions
There is, without exception, a pot of tea.

To attempt writing without it would be an act of reckless imprudence and would almost certainly produce thoughts of a most inferior disposition. Tea steadies the nerves, clears the mind, and gently assures the spirit that it is not required to labour without companionship.

Alongside it, there may appear a glass of sparkling refreshment—a thoroughly modern indulgence—which, if it insists upon attendance, is treated with the utmost discretion. I decant it, disguise it, or place it just beyond polite notice, lest it disturb the gravity of the scene.

One must never allow convenience to outshine intention, my darlings—no matter how effervescent.

Of Sweet Things, Which Are Entirely Necessary
A modest plate of confections is not an extravagance, but a kindness—one I heartily recommend.

A scone, a biscuit, or something gently sugared does far more than appease the appetite; it improves the temper. I have observed, through long and careful study, that prose proceeds with remarkable civility when the writer has granted herself a small pleasure in advance.
One cannot help but marvel at how much patience a little jam procures.

Of Dress Suitable to Thought
I write neither in finery nor in discomfort.
Soft garments are required—those that make no demands upon the body and thus leave the mind at liberty to wander, explore, and occasionally drift like the tide. Only a sleeve or cuff ever enters view, for it would be quite improper to distract one’s thoughts with too much evidence of ease.

The object, my Mermaid darlings, is comfort, never exhibition.

Of Paper, Which Must Always Come First
I do not begin upon a machine.
Every sentence is first committed to paper, written by hand in one of the many notebooks that have gathered around me over the years—some orderly, others enthusiastic to the point of chaos.

Ink, I find, possesses a civilising influence upon thought.

It slows the mind just enough to discourage nonsense.

Only after this first acquaintance do I allow the words to make their way to the computer, where I gently refine them—never scold them—with the assistance of modern conveniences that need not be acknowledged aloud.

Of Sound, and the Proper Degree Thereof
I do not write in silence, though I come very near it.

There is often a low, obliging hush—the suggestion of rain, wind, or distant movement—which asks nothing of the listener and interferes with nothing at all. It resembles the quiet of a house content with itself, or the sea when it has resolved to be agreeable.

The mind, like a guest, prefers neither neglect nor excessive entertainment.

Of the Commonplace Book and Other Companions
Upon the table rests my commonplace book, in which I have long collected observations, sayings, and fragments of wisdom that appeared far too sensible to be entrusted to memory alone.
Nearby are the cabinet cards.

For each character I write, I select a face—printed, framed, and placed where it may observe me in return. It is remarkable how much better one behaves upon the page when one feels faintly accountable to the subject.

A character, like a lady, ought not be imagined at a distance. She must be known.

Of Dictionaries, Definitions, and the Consultation of Elders
There are books upon my table whose sole purpose is to explain words to themselves.

Dictionaries, phrase books, volumes of expressions long in use and not yet worn thin by time—I do not search these books so much as confer with them.

Words, much like people, reveal their finest qualities when approached with courtesy and respect.

Of the Pen, Which Is No Trifle
And lastly—the pen.
It must be a fountain pen, and it must contain sepia ink. On this matter, my Mermaid darlings, I am entirely resolute.

There are refills at the ready, for nothing interrupts a thought more thoroughly than an instrument that chooses, without warning, to lose its resolve.

Sepia belongs to memory.
It forgives haste and flatters reflection.

A Concluding Observation
When I arrange the table, pour the tea, fill the pen, and settle the room into something resembling peace, the writing requires no further persuasion.

The words arrive as they always have.
One must simply make it clear—to oneself, and to them—that they are most welcome.

I remain most affably yours, until my next enchanting swim,
Lady Raquel