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Category: Research

Posts in which we talk about research



What a sad reflection on everyday life, or at least everyday life with the Riskies…fairy princesses yesterday, pigs today. In my tradition of eloquently bringing down the tone, I thought we should take a look at farm animals of the regency or earlier, and I’m unapologetically concentrating on pigs. Like my hero Adam in Dedication, I’m quite fond of pigs. They do spend a lot of time squelching in mud and making disgusting noises, but they are very intelligent and can be quite friendly. Did you know that if you scratch a pig’s back, its hind legs will give way and it will collapse in a pleasured heap? They can also be extremely aggressive (in an earlier version of Dedication, the villain was attacked and eaten, all except for his watch, by Adam’s pigs). It’s remarkable that creatures bred for centuries to be eaten can have so much personality and smarts.

In 1807, Mr. Richard and Mr. Edward Toomer trained a pig as a retriever in the New Forest (honestly, this is true). She was named Slut for her fondness for wallowing in mud, and excelled at her vocation: When called to go out shooting she would come home off the forest at full stretch, and be as elevated as a dog upone being shown the gun. (By the way, I do not recommend doing a Google seach for “pig hunt slut.” The results are not for the faint of heart.)

There’s a lot of interest in England in saving old breeds and here are some pics of some of these porcine beauties: from left to right, the Old Black, the Gloucester Old Spotted, and the British Saddleback. Most original British breeds are actually not that ancient–they derive from the great interest in agriculture of the eighteenth century, when pigs from the near east were imported to improve native species. Despite their limited gene pool, these “heirloom” pigs are resistant to modern pig diseases and also have better maternal instincts (which probably translates as being less likely to eat, or squash, their offspring) than their factory-farmed cousins.

In my pig research, I also discovered that the wild boar, sus scrofa, extinct for three centuries, is making a comeback in England. I don’t know how specifically British the species is, since they are imported boars who escaped and are now surprising picnickers and annoying farmers. Both James I and Charles I were among those who attempted to re-introduce boars, for hunting purposes, with mixed success: not only will boars root where they please, but they taste good. Here’s a close up of the tusks of a two-year-old male.


Despite the aggressive mouth furniture of the adults, though, you have to admit the babies are adorable. Aaaaw!

Any other good Regency pig tales? The only example I can think of is Mr. Knightley giving Miss Bates a joint of pork in good neighborly fashion.

Posted in Regency, Research | Tagged | 9 Replies

How I’d love to see that sentence in a regency. Since music was such a major part of Jane Austen’s life–and that of her heroines–I thought I’d blog about that today, as we recover from the rigors and excitement of our contest (congratulations, winners!). Some soothing piano music might help, too.

Jane Austen’s music books–copied by hand–are at her house in Chawton, Hants, as is her piano (left), made in 1810 by the composer Clementi, who owned one of the major piano manufacturers in London. One of Clementi’s rivals was the firm of John Broadwood & Sons, still in business, and serving as providers of pianos to royalty ever since George II’s time. The gorgeous instrument above was made by Zumpt & Buntebant of London and taken by Johann Christian Bach (son of the great J.S.) when he and the young Mozart visited France in 1778.

Jane’s favorites included Clementi, Haydn and lesser-known composers Pleyel, Eichner and Piccini. Here’s a recollection from her niece Caroline:

Aunt Jane began her day with music – for which I conclude she had a natural taste; as she thus kept it up – ‘tho she had no one to teach; was never induced (as I have heard) to play in company; and none of her family cared much for it. I suppose that she might not trouble them, she chose her practising time before breakfast – when she could have the room to herself – She practised regularly every morning – She played very pretty tunes, I thought – and I liked to stand by her and listen to them; but the music (for I knew the books well in after years) would now be thought disgracefully easy – Much that she played from was manuscript, copied out by herself – and so neatly and correctly, that it was as easy to read as print.

Jane’s piano is a square fortepiano–the term used for early pianos. The great technological breakthrough of the piano (or whatever you want to call it!) is that unlike its predecessor the harpsichord it offered dynamic control–hence it’s name, Italian for loud-soft, and used a hammer action, not a plucking action, on the strings. Fortepianos were first produced in the mid-eighteenth century and were built entirely of wood (modern pianos are held together with a large steel band to hold in the formidable tension of the strings), and have a more delicate, subtle sound than modern pianos. To hear the instrument go to this recording of Mozart and Schubert on amazon, where you can listen to excerpts. The artist is Melvyn Tan, who performed the fortepiano music heard on the movie Persuasion.


Here are a couple more recordings available from the Jane Austen Museum in Bath. A Very Innocent Diversion features selections from Jane Austen’s music collection while the other features music from Jane Austen’s time performed in Bath.

Would music–daily piano practice– feature in your Regency fantasy or nightmare? Or, like Mrs. Elton, would you gratefully become a talker (although not totally devoid of taste, of course) and not a practitioner once you succumbed to the rigors of married life? And as (Cara, I think?) said, it might be interesting to see how truly accomplished those young ladies were…hopefully none of us would be like Mary Bennett, plucked from the keyboard by her embarrassed papa. And do you think that if you were magically transported back to Regency times, you might miss being able to summon music at the push of a button, or do you think the comparative rarity of a live performance (a good one, that is) might heighten your appreciation?

Janet

One of the reasons so many of us love the Regency is the elegance of the clothing: the simplicity, the reliance on truly beautiful lines and well-chosen details rather than fussiness and tight corseting. But among the many beautiful creations of the time there were also some fashion horrors, especially near the end of the period with the advent of Victorian excess.

So here’s my take on the Best and Worst of Regency fashion.

Best #1: from a painting by Constance Mayer (left), 1801, possibly a self-portrait. This is everything I love about Regency style: simple, elegant with just a touch of decoration around the sleeves and a ribbon threaded through the hair. Forever chic.

Best #2: a dress for dancing, circa 1809 (right). With the same elegant lines plus simple gold embellishments, it’s the perfect thing to wear to Almack’s and attract the attention of an eligible lord. (No wonder the Republic of Pemberley chose to incorporate this image into its coat of arms.)

Best #3: Portrait of a lady by Henri François Mulard, ca. 1810 (left). She just looks so pretty, with her simple white dress, nice touches of blue in the sash and fichu, contrasting color in the coral jewelry and the shawl. And her hair is so pretty, too!

Best #4: Walking dress, La Belle Assemblée, 1813 (right). Pretty and white, again with nicely coordinated touches of blue and the gold of the straw bonnet. What a cute little sash at the back, and such dainty footwear. One never knows whom one might meet when out for a stroll, after all!

Best #5: Ingres, Mlle de Senonnes, 1815 (left). Those French women just know how to do it. Velvet in a passionate red, that naughty look-but-don’t touch gauzy neckline, and the froth of lace. The perfect ensemble in which to seduce your rakish romance hero. Tres sexy!

And now for the worst…

Worst #1: A walking dress from around 1810 (right). Look at all those silly tassels, the overly vertical lines, the silly lacing over the breasts. No wonder the dog is barking at her. Hope he snaps off some of those extra tassels.

Worst #2: Bathing Place Evening Dress, 1810 (left). I don’t even know where to begin on this one. What a hideous shape, and that short skirt length, and all those silly ruffles! Makes me think of those frilly things they used to put on lamb chops. Ugh! And this is supposed to be evening wear?

Worst #3: Evening dress, from Ackermann’s Repository, 1816 (right). Now we see a new fussiness in the rosettes, the patterns, the flounces. If you are at all short or plump, you will look like a wedding-cake in this!

Worst #4: Evening dress, 1818 (left). They put everything but the kitchen sink onto this dress: strands of pearls, the sleeves with spiral-wound ruffles of lace, all that padded satin down the front. And that turban! All proof there are always some people who are into conspicuous consumption.

Worst #5: Court dress, modeled by Queen Caroline. How hideous is this???!!! Whoever thought that an empire waist should be combined with a hoop skirt is guilty of the most heinous Fashion Crime of the Millennium.

Whew!

So what does everyone else think?

Which ensemble would you like to wear? Which one deserves the honor of Best Regency Style?

Which do you think is the least becoming? The overall Worst Fashion Faux Pas of the Regency?

Elena
LADY DEARING’S MASQUERADE, RT Reviewers’ Choice Award nominee
www.elenagreene.com

I’m recycling a blog post from a year or so ago about my ideal Regency job. I spent last weekend with the lovely ladies of Virginia Romance Writers at their conference, where I spoke on servants, so this is timely. And Amanda, have you opened the vampire bar yet?
The housekeeper came; a respectable-looking elderly woman, much less fine, and more civil, than she had any notion of finding her.
After Amanda’s exotic and glamorous plans to open a vampire bar, I thought I’d like to describe my ideal Regency job as a housekeeper.

Just imagine it. All that power! Solely in charge of the nutmeg and other spices and maybe even the tea, gliding silently around the corridors of the great house and coming upon servant hanky-panky, unless the slight jangling from your chatelaine betrayed your presence. This lovely example is from early eighteenth century Holland (I think. An ebay find which I couldn’t afford) with a St. Christopher motif.

Just the position if you were a gentlewoman widowed and down on her luck, like Mrs. Fairfax in Jane Eyre (and then I’d be Judi Dench too!).

Or even the unmarried and troublesome member of the family who needs to be shuffled off somewhere to learn the folly of her ways and spend some time brewing stuff in the stillroom.

Housekeepers got nice, fat salaries, too, augmented with tips from tourists if they worked in a great house. When Darcy’s housekeeper (the one described in my opening quote) finished showing Elizabeth and her aunt and uncle around, you may be absolutely sure she had her hand held out. It was quite a cottage industry.

What’s your ideal Regency job?

Happy Tuesday everyone!  I can’t believe May is already halfway gone.  I am buried in revisions and new projects here, but like Megan I seem to have only one major thing on my mind lately: sleep.  I can never seem to get enough of it!  So I started to wonder (as I lay awake last night thinking about all sorts of things), what would characters in historical novels take to help them sleep?

People have had trouble sleeping since time began.  I have no idea what cavemen took, but in the ancient world (Egypt, Greece, Rome) there were various herbs and things that don’t sound effective at all, such as lettuce juice, mandrake bark, something called “herbane,” and the one thing that was very effective indeed, opium derived from poppies.  (Hypnos, god of sleep, was often portrayed holding a poppy).

Nothing any better came along for a long time.  In 1805 a chemist named Frederick Setumer synthesized opium, which didn’t really change the effectiveness of the drug but led to the synthesis of various other sedatives.  By the 1850s chloryl hydrate was developed in Germany and became popular, but like opium it had a myriad of side effects and it was easy to overdose (especially when mixed with alcohol).  There also came about a variety of bromides (originally meant to cure epilepsy, but they didn’t really work for that).

By the beginning of the 20th century barbiturates such as Veronal became available, but they also had myriad unpleasant side effects.  It wasn’t really until the ’70s that benzodiazepines like Xanax and Valium were in widespread use.  Now the trend has swung back around to herbal solutions such as St. John’s Wort (which my liver doctor warns me not to try…)

What historical sleep solution sounds wackiest?  Lettuce juice?  What do you use to help you sleep?  Now I feel in need of a nap…

And now something that has absolutely nothing to do with this post but which i feel I must share:  I love this dress the Duchess of Cambridge wore last week!  I want to knock her down and steal it, if I didn’t know how ridiculous it would look on me since I am at least 2 feet shorter than her:

Posted in Research | Tagged , | 5 Replies
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