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Monthly Archives: October 2013

So I am finally settled in the new place (sort of–all the books are out, so that counts as settled in to me!), and the Internet finally got up and running yesterday, so I am getting back in the online routine.  And I have winners!

The winner of Love Letters is… Jo’s Daughter!

The winner of The Secret Wife of George IV is…Cyn209!

The winner of The Art of Romance is…Amanda Ward!

The winner of the fabulous Lady and the Highwayman is…Anna Bowlins!

And a copy of Running From Scandal to Stefanie D!

Congrats to all!  Email me your snail mail address at amccabe7551 AT yahoo, and I will get them sent out.

I found a few other duplicate books while I was unpacking, so I will probably have another giveaway soon.  And I’ll be back next week to talk about not one but TWO Christmas novellas I have out this year….

Drinking is in reality an occupation which employs a considerable portion of the time of many people; and to conduct it in the most rational and agreeable manner is one of the great arts of living. — James Boswell Journals 1775

God-Save-The-King-In-A-Bumper-gilrayAs I just returned from the New Jersey Romance Writers annual conference (at which I had the delightful company of Megan, Elena, Gail, and Diane), I thought I’d write about drinking during the Regency.  Now, don’t get me wrong, the conference was not a drunken route, but I did have the pleasure of being introduced to (but unfortunately unable to partake of) a variety of mixed drinks that were new to me and sounded totally delightful.  As the weekend drew to a close, I started to think about what our counterparts would be imbibing during – say – a weekend in the country.

Peter H. Brown curated the “Come Drink the Bowl Dry” exhibit at Fairfax House in York in 1996 and wrote a brief but excellent companion book of the same name.  This post will rely heavily on his research.

Although mead (fermented from honey) and ale (from barley) had been available long before our period and spirits were certainly available, the English country house from the late 18th century onward seemed to run on wine.  The wine inventory at Fairfax House in the latter part of the 18th century included port, claret, malmsey madeira, burgundy, and sherry, to name a few.  During a normal day, the household seemed to consume one  bottle of port and three of sherry, apparently not an irregular amount.

punchbowlFairfax House cellar also included beers and ales.  Compared to wine and beers, fermented fruit (cider and perry) were considered exotic and were less likely to be found in the cellar of a grand house.  Distilled spirits (gin, brandy, arrack, rum) became popular in the 17th century and thence the popularity of the punch bowl.  Here are three recipes for you:

  • One teaspoon of Coxwell’s acid salt of lemons; a quarter of a pound of sugar ,a quarto of boiling water ,half a pint of rum and a quarter of a pint of brandy; add a little lemon peel, if agreeable or a drop or to of essence of lemon. (Note: the boiling water was to enable the butler to dissolve the sugar: it all had to be dissolved before it could be served. — The Footman’s Directory and Butler’s Rememberancer – Thomas Cosnett(1823)
  • Three bottles of champagne ;two of Madeira, one of hock ,one of Curacao, one quart of brandy one pint of rum and two bottles of selzter-water, flavoured with four pounds of bloom raisins, Seville oranges, white sugar candy ,and diluted with iced green tea. —“Consuming Passions” by J Green,1984
  • In twenty parts of French brandy put in the peels of 30 lemons and 30 oranges pared so thin that the least of the white is left. Infuse twelve hours. Have ready 30 quarts of cold water that has boiled; put to it fifteen pounds of double refined sugar; and when well mixed, pour upon it the brandy and peels adding the juice of the oranges and of 24 lemons; mix well ,then strain through a very fine hair sieve into a clean barrel that has held spirits and put two quarts of new milk. Stir and then bung it to close; let it stand for 6 weeks in a warm cellar; bottle the liquor for use .this liquor will keep many years and improves with age. — Mrs. Rundell, 1816

Mrs. Rundell was apparently expecting a thirsty crowd.  Perhaps she was organizing a weekend for romance writers.

I think some of the most beautiful portraits of our period and a bit earlier are found in miniatures. One of the best miniaturists was Richard Cosway.

510px-Cosway,_Self-portraitCosway (1742-1821) was the son of a schoolmaster. At age 12, he went to London to study painting, winning prizes from the Society of Artists in 1754 and 1760. By the age of 20 he was in demand. In 1785 he was appointed Painter to the Prince of Wales and painted the Prince’s first wife Maria Fitzherbert.

In 1781, Cosway married Maria Hatfield, 20 years younger than he. Maria was a multitalented artist, composer, and educator, who had brief romance and life-long friendship with Thomas Jefferson. Cosway supported his wife’s artistic pursuits, but theirs was not a happy marriage.

Miniatures were keepsakes that could easily be kept in a pocket or reticule, much like we keep treasured photos in a wallet. This Cosway miniature of a lady shows how some were set.

Richard_Cosway_-_A_Lady_-_WGA05444
Here are some other examples:

Wellington
Arthur_Wellesley1808,_by_Richard_Cosway

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

George IV
432px-GeorgeIV1792

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And this beautiful one of Mrs. Floyd
535px-Mrs._Floyd_by_Richard_Cosway,_RA

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve always wanted to own a Regency or Georgian era miniature. Do you own one? Do you have a favorite?

Posted in History, Regency | 8 Replies

I’m always impressed by the inventive Google doodles and I’m venturing into Elena territory today by talking about an event that took place in 1797 on October 22–the first descent by parachute by the daring Andre-Jacques Garnerin in Paris. This was how Google celebrated the event:

Google_Doodle_parachute_610x276220px-First_parachute2The parachute, more like an umbrella than a modern parachute,  was attached to a balloon that, once it had achieved sufficient altitude, M. Garnerin let rip and plummeted to earth from 3,200′. No graceful floating with this prototype parachute. Allegedly he threw up on the enthralled crowd below. Later he adapted his parachute with a vent to make a less exciting descent for both himself and onlookers. You can read a description of the Parc Monceau, the scene of this daring adventure, at Bonjour Paris.

220px-1798-balloon-henriBut it was in the following year that he achieved tremendous notoriety by taking a woman on a balloon ascent. Mon dieu! He had to appear before the Central Bureau of Police to assure them that Citoyenne Henri would suffer no ill effects to her delicate female constitution and that no hanky-panky would take place in the basket. It was eventually decided that a balloon ascent held the same moral danger as sharing a carriage, i.e., not much. Once again a crowd gathered in the Parc to see the first woman in a balloon–ever the showman, Garnerin had wisely chosen a young and pretty woman.

His wife Jeanne Genevieve was the first woman to make a parachute descent in 1799 from an altitude of 900 meters. In 1802, during the Peace of Amiens, he and Jeanne Genevieve visited England and made balloon ascents together, and M. Garnerin gave a parachute demonstration in a field near St. Pancras. On another balloon trip he carried a letter of introduction from the Prince Regent in case of a crash landing.

If you’ve ever been in a hot air balloon or parachuted, please tell us about it, and if you wish, report on the effect on your morals and delicate female constitution. And, this has nothing to do with it unless you consider NaNoWriMo the equivalent of diving into thin air: if you’re in or near Maryland, there’s still time to register for Saturday’s workshop Writing From the Ground Up.

Since Amanda is busy moving (hope it’s all going well, Amanda!) I promised to switch days with her. And promptly forgot, in the havoc of getting back from the New Jersey Romance Writers conference and trying to get the family and household back on track!

BroadwoodpianoAnyway, I’m here now. Back in the summer, I had the chance to visit the vast and wonderful Museum of Fine Arts in Boston. There were many highlights to the visit, but an unexpected one was their varied collection of musical instruments. I’ve been meaning to blog about it ever since, but it went onto the back burner as I was finishing Fly with a Rogue and taking my oldest on college visits.

One of the most striking pieces in the collection is this superb grand piano. It was made in 1796 by John Broadwood & Sons for Manual de Godoy, ambassador to King Carlos IV of Spain. The decoration was designed by Thomas Sheraton and the jasperware cameos are by Josiah Wedgewood. I took some pictures of the details. Apologies for the fuzziness, but you can get an idea anyway.

Broadwood2

Broadwood3

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is certainly the sort of instrument one could imagine in the house of one of our fictional dukes.

squarepianoAt the other end of the room, there was this square piano, made around 1770 in England by Johann Christoph Zume and Gabriel Buntebart. At about 5 octaves, this was the first type of piano to be commercially successful and became very popular. A vicar’s daughter type heroine could have afforded to play a piano like this one.

Here is Vladimir Pleshakov playing Bonifacio Asioli’s 1795 Sonata on a 1795 Broadwood grand. According to the comments, the pianoforte pictured is actually of a later date, unfortunately.

Next week I’ll post about some of the more esoteric instruments in the collection.

Can any of you picture yourselves playing these instruments? I can–in my Regency fantasies!

Elena
www.elenagreene.com

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