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Author Archives: Elena Greene

About Elena Greene

Elena Greene grew up reading anything she could lay her hands on, including her mother's Georgette Heyer novels. She also enjoyed writing but decided to pursue a more practical career in software engineering. Fate intervened when she was sent on a three year international assignment to England, where she was inspired to start writing romances set in the Regency. Her books have won the National Readers' Choice Award, the Desert Rose Golden Quill and the Colorado Romance Writers' Award of Excellence. Her Super Regency, LADY DEARING'S MASQUERADE, won RT Book Club's award for Best Regency Romance of 2005 and made the Kindle Top 100 list in 2011. When not writing, Elena enjoys swimming, cooking, meditation, playing the piano, volunteer work and craft projects. She lives in upstate New York with her two daughters and more yarn, wire and beads than she would like to admit.

My recent posts about Beau Brummell and Harriette Wilson (Part I and Part II) have made me think about the similarities between the two. Both were leaders within their particular social circles. (Yes, I know courtesans were not accepted in the haut ton but they lived the high life and had their own milieu, which included some of the wealthiest and most influential men of their times.)

From what I’ve read, I don’t get the impression that either was intentionally cruel by nature, yet they could be snarky, as in Brummell’s famous “Who’s your fat friend?” in reference to Prinny. Harriette says she didn’t think about hurting Lord Ponsonby’s young wife when she took up with him, and she enjoyed taking pokes at Wellington:

“My old beau, Wellington, is going on famously, thanks to the fineness of his nerves, and his want of feeling, and his excellent luck. I do not mean to say he has not a good notion of commanding an army; for, though I do not understand things, I am willing to take it for granted that this is the case.”

For a time, any gentleman aspiring to appear fashionable had to gain Brummell’s approval and enjoy Harriette’s favors. Both were the “cool kids” of their period. In the end, their fame didn’t save them from the consequences of their lifestyle. I think I’m not guilty of schadenfreude (a cool word I discovered recently that basically means enjoying the suffering of others) because ultimately, reading these books made me feel sad for them. But it did make me think about how being an “It” person was no guarantee of a happy ending.

Romance novels frequently acknowledge that. Heroes and heroines are often loners or wallflowers. Sometimes they have a more established spot in their local social circles, but even then, they’re generally not the mean sort who establish who’s in and who’s out. That is usually left to a minor class of villains.

One story I read stands in contrast: AIN’T SHE SWEET? by Susan Elizabeth Phillips. The heroine, Sugar Beth, was a bona fide mean girl before life roughed her up and changed her. Phillips did an amazing job getting under Sugar Beth’s skin. So much that I caught myself rooting for her, even though I’m exactly the sort of person she would have picked on in school.

What do you think about cliques and snarky characters in stories? Any that you’ve read that were done particularly well?

Elena

Last week I blogged about Harriette Wilson’s Memoirs. This week I’ll talk about some more aspects of the Regency courtesan’s life.

Courtesans were expected to be witty and accomplished, capable of conversing with their aristocratic protectors and their friends. Harriette was well aware that education could help in this regard.

My sisters used to subscribe to little circulating libraries, in the neighborhood, for the common novels of the day; but I always hated these. Fred Lamb’s choice was happy—Milton, Shakespeare, Byron, the Rambler, Virgil, etc. I must know all aobut these Greeks and Romans, said I to myself. Some day I will go into the country quite alone, and study like mad. I am too young now.

In the meantime, I was absolutely charmed by Shakespeare. Music, I always had a natural talent for. I played well on the pianoforte; that is, with taste and execution, though almost without study.

Later, when Lord Ponsonby went out of town upon the death of his father, Harriette went into the country to study, in order to become “more worthy” of him.

The word study sounded very well, I thought, as I pronounced it; and, after arranging my books in due order, in the pretty rural room allotted to me by my civil landlady, I sat down to consider which of them I should begin with, in order to become clever and learned at the shortest notice…

As we talked about last week, money was an important issue. Being a courtesan carried serious business expenses. One had to dress well. Harriette was careful to be fashionable and wearing white was her signature style. Perhaps white was used in a way to emphasize her elegance and distinguish her from more vulgar professionals? A courtesan had to rent a box at the opera (kind of a shop window) and to entertain lavishly. Harriette makes fun of her sister Amy for eating black-puddings, but perhaps this was Amy’s way of being frugal.

Harriette was not frugal and wrote of always being out of funds. One thing she complains of frequently is of protectors being cheap. At one point Harriette asks her sister Fanny if things are going well between Julia Johnstone and Napier.

Oh, he is horridly stingy,” answered Fanny, “and Julia is obliged to affect coldness and refuse him the slightest favour till he brings her money; otherwise she would get nothing out of him. Yet he seems to be passionately fond of her, and writes sonnets to her beauty, styling her, at forty, although the mother of nine children, ‘his beautiful maid.’

Harriette was supposed to receive an annuity from the Duke of Beaufort for breaking off her relationship with his heir, Lord Worcester, but she reports being stiffed.

In the end, writing her memoirs was a last-ditch attempt to raise funds. Some paid to be omitted from them, although Wellington famously said “Publish and be damned!”

Another problem courtesans dealt with were lovers who were unattractive, unpleasant, who wanted “services” they were not comfortable providing, or even ones who were violent.

Her sister Fanny told her:

Ward wanted me to submit to something I conceived improper. When I refused, he said, with much fierceness of manner, such as my present weak state of nerves made me ill able to bear, ‘D—d affectation.’

Another risk was that of falling in love with one’s protector and getting hurt.

Harriette claims not to have thought about the pain she might be inflicting on the wife of Lord Ponsonby, the one man she appears to have loved deeply.

I am now astonished at that infatuation, which could render a girl, like me, possessed, certainly of a very feeling, affectionate heart, thus thoughtless, and careless of the fate of another: and that other a young, innocent and lovely wife! Had anybody reminded me that I was now about to inflict, perhaps, the deepest wound in the breast of an innocent wife, I hope and believe I should have stopped there; and then what pain and bitter anguish I had been spared: but I declare to my reader, that Lady Fanny Ponsonby never once entered my head.

Her sister Fanny was deeply hurt by the eventual desertion of her long time protector, Colonel Parker. Fanny died young, as did Julia Johnstone soon after. Harriette wrote that Julia’s “complaint, like her poor late friend’s, was a disease of the heart, and there was no remedy.”

However, it was not impossible for courtesans to marry into the aristocracy, as has sometimes been claimed by irate readers of some courtesan romances. Harriette reports that Lord Worcester frequently begged her to elope to Gretna Green with him (he was under age).

…I, who might, as everybody told me, and were incessantly reminding me, have, at this period, smuggled myself into the Beaufort family, by merely declaring to Lord Worcester, with my finger pointed to the North—that way leads to Harriette Wilson’s bedchamber; yet so perverse was my conscience, so hardened by what Fred Bentinck calls, my perseverance in loose morality, that I scorned the idea of taking such an advantage of the passion I had inspired, in what I believed to be a generous breast, as might, hereafter, cause unhappiness to himself, while it would embitter the peace of his parents.

Harriette’s younger sister Sophia did marry her protector, Lord Berwick, although she nevers seems to have liked him and cut her sisters afterwards.

I hope you enjoyed these tidbits on Regency courtesans. Now I am curious to read more about Harriette, to get a more objective account of her life. Googling around, I found there’s a new book about her, THE COURTESAN’S REVENGE by Frances Wilson (no relation), which looks interesting.

Have you read either Harriette’s memoirs or THE COURTESAN’S REVENGE? What did you think? Any other thoughts on Regency courtesans?

Elena

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I just finished HARRIETTE WILSON’S MEMOIRS. Though I don’t trust her on details of dates, persons or places, I find her memoirs highly satisfying Regency research, for at least two reasons. One is her use of language, which feels so conversational. The second is what they reveal about the lives of Regency courtesans: Harriette herself, her three sisters and her friend/rival Julia Johnstone.

Courtesan heroines used to be somewhat taboo in romance, but now I think they are becoming a trope rather like dukes (i.e. shorthand for glamorous and sexy). Actually, one of my favorite courtesan stories is GAMES OF PLEASURE by Julia Ross, in which the hero is the heir to a dukedom. But I digress!

I don’t have a courtesan story on the backburner, but I never say never. If I ever write a courtesan story, just as with dukes, I would write with an awareness of the reality as well as the fantasy. There’s some of both in Harriette’s memoirs.

One aspect I find interesting is the motivation for taking up such a life. Recent biographers of courtesans suggest a desire for independence, and this is borne out by Harriette’s account.

“I am afraid my conscience has been a very easy one; but, certainly, I have followed its dictates. There was a want of heart and delicacy, I always thought, in leaving any man, without full and sufficient reasons for it. At the same time, my dear mother’s marriage had proved to me so forcibly, the miseries of two people of contrary opinions and character, torturing each other to the end of their natural lives, that, before I was ten years old, I decided, in my own mind, to live as free as air from any restraint but that of my conscience.”

However, I don’t doubt the motivations to become a courtesan were complicated and as varied as individuals. None that I’ve read about had the connections or fortune to be likely to make a good marriage (although a few did eventually). Some were “ruined” when very young. So becoming a courtesan may have been an attractive alternative to the otherwise limited opportunities women had for interesting and gainful employment. Perhaps for some it was a way to gain some power.

I get the impression from the memoirs that neither Harriette nor her fellow courtesans thought of themselves as high-end prostitutes and showed much the same disgust for them that one would expect of a respectable woman. She tells a story of going to the play with a friend and then mistakenly leaving through the wrong room: “Oh, dear me! Good gracious, Mrs. Prude, we are in the lobby, with all the very worst women!” When she goes to Melton (having been previously told it was not the thing to join the men there during hunting season) she is shocked at the “wretched, squalid prostitutes”.

I think there’s more here than the contempt of the elite for the less glamorous practitioner. In the career of a courtesan, for instance, companionship and lively conversation were important as well as sex. There are many places in the memoirs where the courtesans and their pretenders live a sort of mock-marriage. Love, or at least the semblance of love, seemed often to be important to one or both parties.

Here’s an exchange in which Harriette urges Julia Johnstone to take up with Napier:

“Napier is your man. Since you could be unchaste to gratify your own passions, I am sure it cannot be wrong to secure the comfort and protection of six beautiful children.”

“But Napier’s vanity makes me sick,” retorted Julia, impatiently. “The possession of my person would not satisfy him. He wants me to declare and prove that I love him; and the thing is physically impossible.”

Here’s a bit about her sister Sophia and a prospective lover:

Sophia continued to hint, with proper delicacy and due modest blushes, that her living with him or not, must depend on what his intentions were: in other words, she gently intimated that, as yet, she was ignorant what settlement he meant to make on her. The gay handsome Colonel Berkeley’s vanity being now deeply wounded, he in his sudden rage, entirely lost sight of what was due to the soft sex, at least to that part of it which had been so hard upon him. “Do you fancy me so humble and so void of taste, as to buy with money the reluctant embraces of any woman breathing?”

Harriette writes of Lord Ponsonby and “…how he, one day, one night I mean, called me his angelic Harriette! and further declared that, had he known me sooner, he would never have married any other woman?” In other places, he calls her his “angel-wife.”

I’ll talk more about Harriette in a later post, but for now, do you enjoy courtesan stories? What do you find most interesting about the life of a courtesan?

Elena

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Reading Megan’s post on Breaking Rules last week and some of the comments it generated made me think about common tropes regarding romance heroines and their looks.

I’m not sure there’s a rule that heroines need to be beautiful, although it’s definitely a common trope. In my mind, it goes along with the billionaire or duke (depending on subgenre) hero—a fantasy that’s OK in moderate doses and not taken too seriously.

I do get put off by books that continually emphasize the heroine’s beauty, especially when in her own point of view. It grates on me when the heroine repeatedly tosses her red-gold hair and flashes her sapphire eyes. It’s clumsy writing and yet such books can be popular, maybe because some readers love that fantasy so much.

I want the knockout heroine to have some substance. It’s fun when she recognizes her assets and uses them (as in BEAUTY by Judith Ivory) or if she has to downplay them in order to be taken seriously (MISS WONDERFUL, by Loretta Chase). It is going too far if the heroine is completely unaware of her beauty (false modesty) or is too full of self pity because people don’t value her for anything else.

Then there’s the trope of the too-tall, too-thin, too-whatever heroine, or the one with a limp or a crooked nose or mismatched eyes, or just plain in some way. I think that appeals to many of us who lived through an awkward phase, or are insecure in some way about our looks. We may long for, and with luck find, someone who appreciates us as we are. (Hopefully, in time we learn to do that for ourselves.) There’s also the fantasy of being made over, which can be really fun.

This trope can fail if the heroine only thinks she is plain, i.e. she thinks she’s too thin or hates her red hair, but we know everyone else can see she’s gorgeous. Again, it’s false modesty, really a kind of narcissism. Other ways the trope fails is when it’s a gimmick to inspire sympathy, or the heroine dwells too much in self-pity.

Done right, the plain/odd heroine can be very cool, especially if the heroine and others learn to see her physical traits as part of a total package they appreciate. The classic example is JANE EYRE. Among modern historical romances, my favorite (perhaps one that spawned some bad imitations) is the tall heroine with mismatched eyes in Mary Jo Putney’s THE RAKE AND THE REFORMER.

I’ve also enjoyed the descriptions of several of Julia Ross’s heroines: one with a longish nose (NIGHT OF SIN) and another who is freckled (CLANDESTINE). Maybe these stories go where Janet and Amanda were suggesting: the heroine of ordinary looks who doesn’t have any hangups about it, and whose hero enjoys her physical quirks along with everything else.

What do you think about these common tropes regarding heroines and their looks? Any particular sorts of heroines you enjoy reading about, or would like to see more of?

Elena

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As I mentioned before, I’ve recently read Beau Brummell by Ian Kelly. I’m not going to attempt a review; it’s the first Brummell bio I’ve read and I haven’t the credentials to critique it from an academic standpoint. I found it a good read, both fascinating and depressing in places and would recommend it to anyone interested in this part of social history. Someone here said it went on rather long. I think the fact that nearly equal space was devoted to Brummell’s decline and death of syphilis as to the height of his popularity, what we usually see depicted in Regencies, made it hard work to read to the end. But that was his life, and a sobering story it is.

Anyway, to the tidbits.

One thing that always puzzled me was whether to spell his name with one or two l’s. Two l’s always looked more English to me but I’d seen it both ways. The Author’s Note explains that Brummell’s first French biographer in the 1840s used a single l, but that his birth record has two l’s and that is the way he signed it. So I feel vindicated.

Brummell never sat for a full length portrait and I’ve never known how he really looked. The plate of miniatures and etchings in this book is not much help, which Kelly himself admits. Look at these guys! They don’t even look related, although I think the one on the middle right is hot. I like the sideways glance and the humorous quirk to his mouth. Right or wrong, this is how I’ll picture Brummell at his best.

So what do you think? Which of these pictures best reflects your idea of the Beau? And do you prefer two l’s or one?

Elena
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