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Monthly Archives: September 2012

If you follow my Diane Gaston Blog, you will know that my father-in-law was hospitalized last week necessitating my quick trip to Williamsburg where the dh’s parents live. It turned out he had pneumonia and a flu virus, but they had feared he had one of those antibiotic resistent “superbugs.” Not the case, thank goodness.

After two days of hospital treatment, my father-in-law came home on antibiotics and was really in pretty good shape, up and around, alert, only a little slowed down physically. His illness made me wonder, though, what it might have been like if he’d lived in Regency times.

In 1918, Dr. William Osler, the father of modern medicine, called pneumonia the “captain of the men of death.” Indeed, it is now thought that a great portion of the 600,000 deaths in influenza pandemic of 1918 were due to bacterial pneumonia which took over after the flu virus compromised the immune system.

In Regency times, pneumonia was called “peripneumony”or inflammation of the lungs. It was treated with bleeding, at least until the patient was able to expectorate. After bleeding blisters were applied. Blistering was the practice of applying plasters to the skin with caustic substances that caused blisters. The blisters would pull the diseased humors from the body and then would be drained. Other treatments included enemas, sweating, and, probably most effective, concoctions that would promote coughing or “expectoration.”

I’m always appalled at how the treatments of illness in these early times seemed to put more strain on the body than would provide relief. (Although we now know bloodletting is an effective treatment for a few very specific conditions) Luckily today we have antibiotics and immunization to combat pneumonia so that it is no longer the “captain of the men of death.”

Have you come across any alarming treatments used during Regency times?

Stop by my website and see my newest bookcover – for Born to Scandal coming out December, 2012. Read a sneak peek.

Today, of course, is September11.  It seems impossible that 11 years have gone by since that day, which no one here will ever forget.  As the building goes on for monuments in NYC and elsewhere, I thought I would take a quick look at another memorial built to commemorate a terrible event–the Great Fire monument in London.

The Great Fire started in a Pudding Lane bakeshop on September 2, 1666, and nearly wiped out the entire city (old, brittle, and built mostly of wood) before it was contained several days later.  The Rebuilding Act of 1669 specified that some sort of memorial be built “the better to preserve the memory of this dreadful visitation.”  It wasn’t until 1671 that the City Council approved a design, and 6 years before it was complete (plus another 2 before the inscription was finished!).  The final cost was 13,450 pounds.

It’s a fluted Doric column of Portland stone topped with a crown of gilded flames at Monument Street and Fish Street Hill, 200 feet tall and 202 feet from the spot where the fire started (it’s said if the column topples that way it would land on the exact spot).  It’s on the site of St. Margaret’s, Fish Street, the first church destroyed in the fire.  The top is reached by a narrow winding staircase of 311 steps (a cage was added in the 1840s to prevent suicides).  I am very claustrophobic, and have never tried this myself, but I hear the view is amazing!

The base is inscribed on 3 sides–the south describes the actions King Charles II took following the fire, the east how the monument was built and the mayors who oversaw it, the north how the fire started and was finally contained (a line about “Popish frenzy” was erased in 1830), and the west is a bas relief sculpture of Charles II and his brother the Duke of York, surrounded by Liberty, Architecture, and Science, directing the restoration of the city.

(For more info on the fire itself, look here…)

Have you ever seen this monument?  What is the most moving/interesting/beautiful memorial you’ve seen??

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Today’s the day in 1814 upon which poet Francis Scott Keyes composed The Star Spangled Banner which was adopted as our national anthem in 1931. He was inspired by witnessing the end of the bombardment of Fort McHenry during the War of 1812, where the British retreated after shelling the fort for over 24 hours, and, so the legend goes, as the smoke cleared, Keyes viewed the flag still in place.

Huzzah!

Keyes was visiting the British flagship the Tonnant, to negotiate for the release of one Dr. William Beanes who had been captured when the British invaded Washington. Letters from wounded British officers praising Beanes persuaded the British to release him, but they kept Keyes and his companions aboard ship, fearing they knew too much about the proposed invasion of Baltimore. Keyes, inspired, scribbled his poem on a scrap of paper and thus a legend was born.

Except … you must have noticed the words don’t quite fit. It’s difficult to sing, requiring you to squeak up tosome fairly high notes (most people have a range of about an octave and this requires a range of about an octave and a half). Keyes didn’t write the tune; instead he suggested that it should be sung to the tune of a 1776 drinking song called To Anacreon in Heaven, the theme song of the Anacreontic Society, a London drinking club. Anacreon, a 6th century BC poet, wrote extensively about women and wine. You can see more about the club and the text of the song at ColonialMusic.

I looked around for a version of the original on youtube and came up with this, which sounds historically correct tho there is no picture, the subtitles are odd and it sounds as though someone is splintering small pieces of wood during the recording (but don’t let that put you off). The song had a history of being recycled on this side of the Atlantic, with two earlier versions, Adams and Liberty–the Boston Patriotic Song and Jefferson and Liberty. It was a favorite of Keyes himself, who’d written another version in 1805, When the Warrior Returns, a tribute to Stephen Decatur.

If you’re in Baltimore or plan to visit, check out the Flag House (where the original star spangled banner that survived the battle was made) and Fort McHenry.

Also in a couple of weeks there’s a bombardment of books and authors at the Baltimore Book Festival takes place and I’m on various panels and reading on Friday afternoon/evening. More about that later.

What’s your favorite legend or reality of American history?

 

I know branding is important and yet I struggle with it.

When I first put out my sexy Regency novella, Lady Em’s Indiscretion, as an e-book, I had several choices regarding cover. I could use a similar cover treatment to Lady Dearing’s Masquerade, the only e-book I had out at that time, or do something different. Being naïve, I thought that because the sex scenes in the novella weren’t really any hotter than those in the other book, a similar cover treatment would be fine. The problem is that while Lady Dearing’s Masquerade is a long book with many plot elements besides the sex, Lady Em’s Indiscretion is a short story where sex is the plot. Kind of like dessert without the meal, which is what was intended.

The other thing I didn’t realize is how many readers buy based on author name and a thumbnail. So although I described the story in the blurb, some readers were surprised that what they bought wasn’t like Lady Dearing’s Masquerade or my “Three Disgraces” trilogy. My bad. I need to fix that.

So here’s the range of my covers. I have my split style for most of my books, which are in that medium-sexy range. I intentionally asked for a different style for the reissue of my novella, The Wedding Wager, to indicate that this was a sweeter style book.

Much as I like the current cover for Lady Em’s Indiscretion, I think it needs to change to help it reach readers who enjoy the other end of the sweet/hot spectrum.

I recently read this interesting post at Dear Author about the cover evolution for Midnight Scandals, the new anthology from Courtney Milan, Sherry Thomas and Risky Carolyn Jewel. Now I’m especially aware that the cover needs to look striking (and different from my others) even as a thumbnail.

I’d be interested to know what people think. If I end up changing the cover, look forward to a celebration giveaway.

Also a bit of news. Authors Gail Eastwood and Susanna Fraser have kindly agreed to do some occasional guest posts for me. So you can look forward to a bit of variety on Fridays, while I am looking forward to a little extra writing time to help finish my balloonist story. 🙂

Elena
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September 14 was the 160th anniversary of the death of the Duke of Wellington, who died of a stroke that date in 1852. Naturally at such a time I’ve been thinking of “Dear Artie,” as Kristine Hughes (my rival) and I fondly call him.

Not long ago I came across a book in the public domain called The Letters Of The Duke Of Wellington To Miss J. Remarkably, for 17 years the duke engaged in a correspondence with a young woman who was bent upon saving his soul.

Miss J was the daughter of member of the gentry who was left in fairly comfortable means after the early deaths of her parents. She received the finest schooling along with other young ladies of the aristocracy and lived with an elderly companion afterward.

At an early age she became a religious zealot, devoting her life to God and turning away from worldly matters. She rejected a suitor because he did not meet her exacting spiritual standards. Shortly after she and a friend managed to convert a condemned criminal, Miss J felt embolden to take on a new charge. She took the bold step to write to the Duke of Wellington, presumably to offer her services to convert him to a life of righteousness. At that time the duke, after having been Prime Minister, was Peel’s Foreign Secretary and was to continue to be very active in political life for several more years. Nevertheless, he answered this young woman’s letter. After she delivered the gift of a bible to him, he called upon her.

It is hard to imagine why this busy, important man might trouble himself with any involvement with a much younger woman bent on saving his soul. He was three years a widower and 64 years of age at that time and perhaps was looking back on parts of his life with some contrition. Or perhaps he was flattered that a young, beautiful woman was enamored of him.

He did appear to become infatuated with Miss J for a time, professing loving her, which seemed to have scared her enough to forbid him any more in-person visits. Her diary, though, seemed to convey her belief that God was calling her to eventually marry the Duke of Wellington. The duke, however, remained worldly enough that he would not risk being held up to ridicule for marrying a woman young enough “to be his granddaughter,” as he put it to her.

Their correspondence continued, but not without trouble. A year later, Miss J becomes affronted because a letter from the duke arrived with a plain seal, which she took as a deliberate slight to her consequence. She threatens never to write him again. When he doesn’t write her back fast enough, she fires off another letter.

Here is the duke’s reply

“My dear Miss J., — I always understood that the important parts of a Letter were its Contents. I never much considered the Signature; provided I knew the handwriting; or the Seal provided it effectually closed the letter…”

He goes on to explain that he often doesn’t personally seal his letters, that the task is often performed by s secretary, and because he writes many letters the seal becomes too hot to use and another seal is employed. He does promise not to repeat the slight should she wish him to continue writing her.

Shortly after, Miss J perceives herself called by God to continue writing to the duke and he accepts her letters and writes in return. The letters persist for years, weathering other times when Miss J again feels slighted.

In 1850, Miss J suffers from poor health and financial reverses. At the urging of her sister who had come from America to tend to her, she asks the duke for financial assistance. He immediately writes back that she is but to tell him the amount she needs and the bank to which it should be sent and he will happily assist her.

But Miss J does not deal in such worldly matters. She leaves it to the duke to figure out how much to send and how to get it to her. There are letters back and forth regarding this matter, until he finally devises a plan to send her the money. All she has to do is sign for the receipt of the package.

Miss J finds this too worldly for her and refuses to sign anything. At this point it appears the duke has had it with her. He writes several formal, terse letters to that effect and states that she should not trouble herself to write him again.

She persists in writing him, letters he only answers from time to time to send a terse message that she should not write him again.

She had a letter ready to post to him when her physician visited and told her of the Duke’s death. She feared he did not make it into the Kingdom of God.

Miss J’s finances forced to go to America to live with her sister, but her sister apparently could not abide what then had become Miss J’s even more religious extremes. Miss J lived alone in New York until her death in 1862.

I found this a fascinating part of “Dear Artie’s” life and I loved reading his letters when he employed a sarcastic tone. Poor Miss J! Her religious feelings seem to have begun in a great desire to live a good life, but ended in her being estranged from two people who were prepared to love her–her sister and The Duke of Wellington.

Come to my Diane Gaston Blog this Thursday Sept 20 when my guest will be my friend, Darlene Gardner, talking about her latest Superromance, The Truth About Tara. Darlene will be giving away a free copy of Twice the Chance, her Holt Medallion award of merit winner.

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