Today I’m going to share another one of my favorite web site.  Historic Food belongs to Ivan Day, a highly regarded food historian.  Mr. Day, however, is much more than a historian.  He is much in demand to present and recreate historic recipes.  He prepares historically accurate banquets for historic locations, such as these  at Harewood House in Leeds and Fairfax House in York. Take a look at his Events section.  He’s done quite a bit of television in the UK (as if you needed another reason to wish you were there) and has written a couple of books.  His work has been exhibited in many museums, including the Paul Getty Research Institute, Philadelphia Museum of Art, the Museum of London, Fairfax House, the Bowes Museum and the Rothschild Collection.

He also gives historic cooking courses at his 17th century farmhouse in Cumbria in his period kitchen.  Another reason I’d like to be England.

Go explore his web site.  But if you don’t have time, I leave you with a recipe for muscadine Ices.

Take one ounce of elder flower, which you put in a sabotiere, pour upon it about half a pint of boiling water, cover your sabotiere with its lid, thus let it draw about half an hour, make then a composition precisely, as it were to make a plain lemon ice, and as directed in that article; to tha tcomposition add your infusion of elder flower, pass the whole through a sieve, and put it in the sabotiere to congeal as we have explained.
From Borella The Court and Country Confectioner (London: 1770)

Being in a bit of a chaotic situation at home (construction), I’m going to let Thomas Wilson, dance master at The King’s Theatre in London.  I believe Thomas  fancied himself as dance master of England.  He opened a dancing academy which he advertised as “Dancing taught in the most elegant style, quite in private.” and published several books on dancing.

In the complete system of English country dancing, containing all the figures ever used in English country dancing, with a variety of new figures and new reels, the chapter  entitled The Etiquette of the Ballroom give details of how dances were chosen.

In his experience, they were chosen , or “called” by the ladies ( sometimes in consultation with their partners) attending a ball.

To render this chapter of more, some directions will be given for regulating the calls and a correct and graceful performance of all species of dancing as now generally introduced…

It is requisite here to observe, that in the following sketch, the minutiae of the duties of the conductor or of the Company comprising a ball have not been entered into, nor are any of the bye- belonging to any private or particular Assembly given, being confined only to the etiquette of such Balls where the persons composing the company take their places in accordance to their number. At Court and some other select balls and Assemblies places are taken according to precedence….

On entering into the ball room each Lady intending to dance must be presented by the with a ticket, on which is inscribed the number of her call (in some companies it is sometimes found convenient to give numbers to Gentlemen instead of the Lady: this seldom occurs in fashionable parties) according to which they afterwards take their places in the Dance. The first lady is entitled to Number 1, the second to number 2 and so on. These numbers should be placed in a conspicuous place and remain there till the Dancing is finished, to prevent any misunderstanding respecting situations in the Dance; for no one can claim a place without displaying their ticket…

After the Ball has opened (should there be an opening dance) it is the duty of the Master of Ceremonies to call up and place the company in couples according to their numbers , beginning with No.1 at the top, No. 2 next and so on in succession till all the numbers that were given out are called up; that is, to the highest number, which will be placed at the bottom of the set.

Any Lady or Gentleman altering their number or not producing it when called for must stand at the bottom of the Dance or Set they belong to.

No couple ought to refuse to stand up directly the Dance is called as it shews great disrespect to the Lady who calls it.

Should any lady lose her number on application to the Master of Ceremonies she should be furnished with another according to which she must take her place in the Dance.

 without partners should apply to the Master of Ceremonies whose place it is if possible to provide them

Any couple wishing to retire early should deliver their number to the Master of Ceremonies that he may know such a couple is absent when the numbers are called up

The couple about to call the Dance should inform the Master of Ceremonies of the Tune and Figure that he may give directions to the different Sets (if more than one) and direct the band accordingly; the tune should be played once over before the Dance commences.

The Master of Ceremonies can object to any call that affords a reasonable ground of complaint, such as length or difficulty of Figure; but the couple whose call is rejected, have the liberty of calling another Dance less objectionable, and more suitable to the ability of the company

Should any couple after calling a Dance find themselves incapable of performing it, they may call another; but if the same difficulty occurs in the second call the Master of the Ceremonies may transfer the call to the next couple and place the couple so failing at the bottom of the Set.

When a dance is finished the Master of the Ceremonies should give the signal to the leader of the band to leave off, to prevent any unnecessary noise or clapping of hands.

No person should leave the room or even sit down before the Dance is finished unless on some very particular occasion; and not then without first informing the Master of Ceremonies

No person should leave the room immediately after they have had their call, without the Dancing is conclude for the evening as it evinces great disrespect to the Company.

No Dance ought to be performed twice the same evening.

Such persons as may dislike any dance that is called instead of interrupting the performance or endeavouring by any means to have the same altered should retire to their seats.

No person is entitled to two calls the same evening (unless in their turn with the others) without the permission of the Master of Ceremonies.

After a dance is called no person is allowed to change or alter the Figure in any manner whatever.

Should any Lady after calling a dance, which is not objectionable to the Master of Ceremonies, find it too difficult for the company, she may be permitted to change it for one less difficult; but not to lead off again form the top without permission of the master of Ceremonies.

When the Ball commences the company should not leave their places or rest till after the second Dance. Should the Sets be short they may Dance three dances before they rest. During the remainder of the evening it is the business of the Master of Ceremonies t direct the company as to the proper time for retiring

So, now you know how to conduct yourself when next your find yourself at an assembly.  Have fun!

Marianne & Elinor

Well, who are you?  I’m of the belief that we’re all one of Jane Austen’s characters and, heaven knows, there are enough online quizzes to bear this out.  Only Sense & Sensibility, however, gives us two heroines from which to choose, and they couldn’t be more different.  I think that we all have a little bit of either Elinor or Marianne in us (or possibly both).  Literary criticism, in general, has signed the traits of sense and sensibility to Elinor and Marianne, respectively.

The cult of sensibility was a late 18th century social construct that was characterized by the exaggerated expression of emotion.  So Marianne. The Marianne whom we first meet in Sense & Sensibility is all sensibility.  After Willoughby leaves Allenham, Marianne indulges in every symptom of sentimentality associated with sensibility.

When breakfast was over, she walked out by herself, and wandered about the village of Allenham, indulging the recollection of past enjoyment and crying over the present reverse for the chief of the morning.

The evening passed off in the equal indulgence of feeling. She played over every favourite song that she had been used to play to Willoughby, every air in which their voices had been oftenest joined, and sat at the instrument gazing on every line of music that he had written out for her, till her heart was so heavy that no farther sadness could be gained; and this nourishment of grief was every day applied. She spent whole hours at the pianoforte alternately singing and crying; her voice often totally suspended by her tears. In books, too, as well as in music, she courted the misery which a contrast betwen the past and present was certain of giving. She read nothing but what they had been used to read together.

Such violence of affliction indeed could not be supported for ever; it sunk within a few days into a calmer melancholy; but these employments, to which she daily recurred, her solitary walks and silent meditations, still produced occasional effusions of sorrow as lively as ever.

Elinor, on the other hand, is all sense, the embodiment of early 18th century rationalism.  It is Elinor who takes charge when the Dashwoods must leave Norland and gets them moved and settled at Barton Cottage while Marianne mourns the loss of “dear, dear Norland.”  It is Elinor who worries about Marianne’s emotional attachment to Willoughby and who tries to talk sense into both Marianne and her mother.  It is Elinor who confronts Willoughby when he calls during Marianne’s illness.  And, although Elinor is also nursing a broken heart, she never wallows in melancholy, but gets on with what must be done.

The conversation that, perhaps, best exemplifies these two personalities occurs in Chapter 16:

“Dear, dear Norland,” said Elinor, “probably looks much as it always does at this time of year. The woods and walks thickly covered with dead leaves.”

“Oh!” cried Marianne, “with what transporting sensations have I formerly seen them fall! How have I delighted, as I walked, to see them driven in showers about me by the wind! What feelings have they, the season, the air altogether inspired! Now there is no one to regard them. They are seen only as a nuisance, swept hastily off, and driven as much as possible from the sight.”

“It is not every one,” said Elinor, “who has your passion for dead leaves.”