Category: Research

Posts in which we talk about research

Time for a Christmas panto!

Updated on February 1, 2013 by Janet Mullany

I’m creeping into Cara territory here with a theater-related post–about the world of pantomime, a peculiarly English form of theatrical entertainment that is still popular today. It’s an incongruous mix of medieval mystery play, Commedia dell’arte, vaudeville, and musical comedy. The Principal Boy (male lead) is played by a woman wiht great legs. There’s a stock female character called The Dame who is played by a man (the Monty Python crew were not the only ones to cross-dress at the drop of a knicker). Audience participation is encouraged. In its current manifestation the pantomime features stars from TV soaps and is full of political jokes and double entendres.

Commedia dell’arte, a comedic form with stock characters, tumbling, acrobatics and buffoonery came from Italy to England in the seventeenth century. The most popular characters–Harlequin (a wily servant), Columbine (female lead) and Pantalone (comic old man–sorry, this was never very PC)–infiltrated the theater, and an entertainment was developed in three parts: A serious or classical work, followed by a lighter popular tale (Cinderella or Aladdin, for instance, still popular today as panto subjects), and concluded with the Harlequinade. The Harlequinade featured acrobatics and slapstick and was introduced by an elaborate transformation scene using all the latest hi-tech devices of the theater. Imagine that you’ve gone to the theater to see “King Lear.” After the tragedy, the same actors perform a musical version of “Cinderella.” After a lot of light effects, music, moving scenery, fountains, women in tights flying etc., the actor who played Lear does some funny stuff with a dog and a string of sausages, as a minor player in the spills, chills and thrills chase scenario of Harlequin and Columbine. Ah, a full night of the theater in eighteenth-century London–all human life is there. There’s no wait at the bar because you brought your own, and no wait for the bathrooms because there are none.

Joseph Grimaldi was England’s most famous clown and so popular that the character of the Clown became the lead in the Harlequinade. At one time he played the Clown at both Covent Garden and Sadler’s Wells, dashing from one theater to another. He was a skilled dancer, mime, acrobat, actor and sleight of hand magician. The Harlequinade died out, possibly coinciding with the death of Grimaldi, its greatest clown, but the second part of the original three-part entertainment adopted some of its characteristics (the slapstick and tumbling) to evolve into the pantomime, played at Christmas and Easter. In Victorian times the Drury Lane Theater was the leading presenter of elaborate pantomime performances, and stars of the music hall made guest appearances.

For great pics and musical examples (including Grimaldi’s signature song, “Hot Codlins” with audience participation) go to
www.peopleplayuk.org

www.its-behind-you.com
Here’s the complete text of “A History of Pantomime” by R.J. Broadbent (1901) www.gutenberg.org
www.pantoscripts.com

Meanwhile, so you can savor this sophisticated form of comedy, here’s an excerpt from a modern version of Aladdin. Widow Twanky (the Dame) is doing laundry with her sons Wishee and Washee:

DAME: Here, did I tell you I nearly won the football pools last week.

WASHEE: Did you really mum?

DAME: Yes I did. My homes were all right. My aways were all right. ( Pulls tatty pair of bloomers from the tub). But my draws let me down.

WISHEE: ( Looking in the tub) I see you’ve got the laundry for ******* United again ( pulls out strip – holds it out for everyone to see, with big holes in it). Hey, what are these holes in it?

DAME: Well, everyone says they’ve got holes in their defence. That proves it.

WASHEE: ( Pulling out another huge pair of bloomers) And whose are these?

DAME: I could do with some of these. ( Singing to tune of My Fair Lady) “All I want is some knickers like these, to keep me warm from my neck to me knees, oh wouldn’t it be lovely.” Did you know I once had some knickers made out of a Union Jack.

WISHEE: Weren’t they uncomfortable?

DAME: Not once I’d taken the flagpole out.

happy xmas!
Janet

Posted in Regency, Research | Tagged Grimaldi, pantomimes, Theatre | 2 Replies

Which Christmas Would You Want?

Updated on February 1, 2013 by Laurie Bishop

It seems to me that I would have done very well with a Regency Christmas. As far as I can determine, there was little in the way of celebration, especially as we now know it, in the Regency period prior to 1815. Customs such as Yule-log burning and decorating with greenery were apparently considered rustic by those of a more elevated position, who left the more primitive celebration to those who were more common. One did dine with one’s friends, and practice charity to the poor at Christmas time, but it was “undignified” to celebrate in any more frivolous way.

Well…I do have a struggle between wanting to do the season justice and dreading its demands. I so love the end results–the sparkling house, the cooking smells, the evergreen, the red ribbon and lights, the candles, the wrapped gifts resting mysteriously under the Christmas tree in the pale light of dawn. BUT…the big BUT…fate seems to conspire to keep me from getting there.

Being a single woman keeping her own house, one would think I could have it under control. Not so. Between a full time job, writing, housekeeping and the deepening snow I soon discover that it is DECEMBER 18TH AND I HAVEN’T SENT OUT ANY CARDS YET. And that is just the beginning.

I know that my stress is shared from my friends. At work, I hear one fretting about the cost of a child’s preference of gift, another bemoaning having to visit the mall yet again, and another worried that her grown child will not be able to visit. There are some who seem to be able to do it all and more, of course, but I can only think of them with awe.

Back to Christmas in the Regency…something about the very simplicity of their celebration appeals to me, although I am inclined to be a bit contrified in my views, because I favor the evergreen and holly and mistletoe and the roaring fire. I like the empasis on charity, too–and food. Who can’t like food?!

Okay, now I have arrived at something. I decide to look up some Regency Recipes in a handy reference, THE NEW FEMALE INSTRUCTOR, published in 1834.

TO ROAST GOOSE
“After it is picked, the plugs of the feathers pulled out, and the hairs carefully singed, let it be well washed and dried, and a seasoning put in of onion, sage, and pepper and salt. Fasten it tight at the neck and the rump, and then roast.” [My note–I am assuming the insides were cleaned out; I imagine this was thought to be understood!]. “Put it first at a distance from the fire, and at degrees draw it nearer. A slip of paper should be skewered on the breast-bone. Baste it very well. When the breast is rising, take off the paper; And be careful to serve it before the breast falls, or it will be spoiled by coming flattened to the table. Let a good gravy be sent in the dish.”

Good heavens. The goose is looking like a bit of work. I had no idea my goose could go flat. I decide to pass on to dessert.

PLUM PUDDING
“Cut a pound of suet into small pieces, but not too fine, a pound of currants washed clean, a pound of raisins stoned, eight yolks of eggs, and four whites, half a nutmeg grated, a tea-spoonful of beaten ginger, a pound of flour, and a pint of milk. Beat the eggs first, then put to them half the milk, and beat them together; and by degrees stir in the flour, then the suet, spice, and fruit, and as much milk as will mix it well together, very thick. It will take four hours boiling. When done, turn it into our dish, and strew over it grated sugar.”

Not so bad. Not very different than certain of today’s recipes, especially if you have one that has been handed down in the family. A lot of work, still do-able. But I’m not too keen on the suit. I wonder what it will do to my cholesterol levels.

Better consider what to drink.

ENGLISH SHERRY
“Boil thirty pounds of sugar in ten gallons of water, and scum it clear. When cold, put a quart of new ale-wort to every gallon of liquor, and let it work in the tub a day or two. Then put it into the cask with a pound of sugar candy, six pounds of fine raisins, a pint of brandy, and two ounces of isinglass. When the fermentation is over, stop it close; let it stand eight months, rack it off, and add a little more brandy. Put it in the cask again, and let it stand four months before it is bottled.”

Ahem. Nothing to drink until next year. Oh, hey, just give me the brandy.

Perhaps I will stop bemoaning today’s Christmases. Either that, or I will go back in time as a wealthy woman with a cook and a full housekeeping staff. Until then…

Link–more recipes: http://homepages.ihug.co.nz/~awoodley/recipes/xmasrecipe.html

Link–Jo Beverley’s page on the Regency Christmas, done much better than I could have done: http://members.shaw.ca/jobev/xmasarticle.html

Cheers!

Where’s that brandy???

Laurie

Posted in Regency, Research | Tagged Christmas, christmas pudding, cooking, food | 5 Replies

Perils of Ballooning and Winner!

Updated on February 1, 2013 by Elena Greene

A few weeks ago I posted some fun stuff about ballooning but today I’ll talk about the risks taken by the early aeronauts.

Pilatre de Rozier, along with the Marquis d’Arlandes, was one of the first aeronauts to go up in a hot air balloon (Montgolfiere). He was also the first to die in a balloon accident. After a number of hot air balloon flights, De Rozier planned a Channel crossing. Since a Montgolfiere could not carry enough fuel for such a flight, he devised a hybrid hot air/hydrogen balloon. De Rozier himself may have been concerned about this combination of airborne furnace and a highly flammable gas, but nevertheless he and his companion, Pierre Roumain, set off in June of 1785. Accounts I’ve read vary as to whether the balloon actually caught fire or not. What is certain is that the balloon crashed, killing both aeronauts.

The earliest English balloonist, James Sadler, had many misadventures. During one flight, the balloon dragged him for several miles, illustrating the difficulty of landing in windy conditions. Another time he ended up in the Bristol Channel, where he was rescued by a boat. Sadler’s son Windham was the first to cross the Irish Channel in 1816. But sadly, he died in 1824 when his balloon struck a chimney stack during an attempted landing.

Another famous tragedy was that of Sophie Blanchard, the wife of balloonist Jean-Pierre Blanchard. After his death she continued ballooning, making over 60 ascents. However in 1819 her luck ran out. During an exhibition over the Tivoli Gardens in Paris, the fireworks she was letting off ignited the hydrogen. Her balloon crashed onto the roof of a house and she fell to her death.

Another English balloonist, Thomas Harris, died in 1824. He was trying out a new safety mechanism: a gas discharge valve intended to quickly deflate the balloon and thus prevent the balloon from dragging the car (basket) and its passengers on landing. Theories differ on how it happened, but the valve must have discharged prematurely, setting the balloon plunging. Thomas Harris was killed but his companion, Sophia Stocks, survived. According to one account (possibly romanticized), Harris jumped out early to lighten the balloon and thus save Sophia’s life.

So now I leave it to you to guess which of these perils might threaten my balloonist hero.

And now congratulations to librarypat! You have won an ebook of your choice from my titles. Please email me at elena @ elenagreene.com (no spaces) and let me know which book and format you’d like.

Elena

www.elenagreene.com

www.facebook.com/ElenaGreene

Posted in Giveaways, Regency, Research | Tagged ballooning, James Sadler, Madame Blanchard, Pilatre de Rozier, Thomas Harris | 3 Replies

Secret Betrothals

Updated on February 1, 2013 by Diane Gaston

I received the author copies of A Not So Reputable Gentleman? last Friday, and there is nothing like seeing the book in its tangible form. Even ebook-Kindle-loving me savors holding the book in my hands and flipping through its pages.

I’ll do an “official” introduction to the book near its release date of July 24, but revisiting the book after several months reminded me of some of the essential elements of the story.

My hero and heroine were secretly betrothed before the book begins. Secret betrothals, while favored in fiction (e.g. Edward Ferrars and Lucy Steele in Sense and Sensibility; Frank Churchill and Jane Fairfax in Emma), were frowned upon in the real Regency world. In fact, it was considered a serious moral lapse.

Unmarried men and women in society were not permitted to be alone together and were expected to meet only in carefully chaperoned circumstances, like balls and other society parties.

Before a betrothal, young men and women were forbidden to use each other’s Christian names. They could not correspond by letters. They could not exchange gifts. They could not touch in any kind of intimate way and certainly could not kiss.

My hero and heroine had broken nearly all these taboos, although they, of course, considered themselves betrothed. In public, however, any show of particular attention or lapse of correct behavior would have given them away. Society was quick to assume a serious attachment on any sign of particular attention between a couple.

A secret engagement typically meant that there were reasons parents would not approve of the match. During the Regency a parent’s approval was expected if the child was under 21 years of age. Parents naturally wished for socially and financially secure marriages for their children. At the time of my book’s beginning, my hero was neither financially secure or socially acceptable.

By the 1800s a betrothal became more of a gentleman’s word than a contract between families. Even though suing for breach of contract was no longer the norm, a gentleman was expected to keep his word if he asked a woman to marry. A gentleman was disgraced if he broke an engagement and his fiancee was considered damaged goods. The lady was the only one who could “cry off” but then she was considered a jilt.

This, of course, makes great fodder for Regency Romance Novels. In reality, it is what led Wellington to marry Kitty Pakenham. When Kitty had been young and vivacious Wellington had courted her, but his suit was not accepted by her family. When he returned from India, Kitty had become pale and sickly, but Wellington realized that she had considered them betrothed all that time. He felt duty-bound to marry her as a result.

A secret betrothal held no such protections for the couple. By its secrecy, words–and hearts–could be broken without any social cost, although the emotional cost could be enormous.

In matters of marriage, the Regency was, like in so many areas, a time of change. In the 17th and 18th century society marriages were arranged by the parents and were secured for financial gain or rise in social status. By the Regency, couples wished to marry for love. Some blamed this foolish notion on the reading of novels.

Do you like secret betrothals in Regency romances? What about arranged marriages?

If you would like a chance to win a copy of A Not So Reputable Gentleman?, enter my part of the Harlequin Historical Authors Summer Beach Bag Giveaway. For more chances at other prizes and the grand prize of a Kindle Fire, enter daily. See details here.

Posted in Regency, Research, Risky Book Talk | Tagged A Not So Respectable Gentleman, arranged marriages, courtship, secret betrothals | 10 Replies

Regency Birthdays (or Birthdays of Regency-type people)

Updated on February 1, 2013 by Amanda McCabe/Laurel McKee

December 16th has more than one birthday of interest to us Regency-ers. Along with Austen, it’s also the birthday of Beethoven, born in 1770. Five years before Jane. (It’s also the birthday of my mother, but that’s probably only of interest to me, who still has to find her a present. Jane and Ludwig aren’t quite as picky).

I had hoped to make this post about Jane’s own interest in the music of Beethoven. After all, we know she enjoyed music, and that he was one of the leading composers of the era. Alas, according to the Jane Austen Memorial Trust, which has cataloged over 300 pieces of music-related material belonging to Jane, she owned very little by Beethoven (or Mozart, or Handel, or any of the other composers we listen to most today). She owned a lot of pieces by such non-household names as Pleyel, Dibdin, Sterkel, and Kotzwara. So there goes my theme. But here are a few other little factoids I found on my search!

In 1811, Jane Austen published “Sense and Sensibility”; Beethoven first performs his Piano Trio in B-flat
In 1813, “Pride and Prejudice”; Wellington’s Victory
1818, Mary Shelley publishes “Frankenstein”; Beethoven the Piano Sonata #29 (Hammerklavier) (not Austen, I know, but interesting!)

The 1995 version of Pride and Prejudice featured some Beethoven. At the Phillips’ party, Mary plays “Nel cuor non mi santo”. At Pemberley, Georgiana plays “Andante Favore.” And according to the 2005 Pride and Prejudice website, the score was inspired in great part by Beethoven’s piano sonatas, and performed by pianist Jean-Yves Thibaudet with the English Chamber Orchestra in that sort of style. I couldn’t find any info on “real” Ludwigian pieces they might have used, but they did use Purcell at the Netherfield ball.

I also saw that at the Jane Austen Evening our own Cara will be attending in January, there is a visit from “Herr Beethoven” scheduled as well.

Happy birthday, Jane and Ludwig! Hopefully some of you will have other nuggets of factoids to share.