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Bastille1Or rather, happy day before Bastille Day, since July 14 is the time to celebrate the day in 1789 when an angry mob stormed the prison and released scads of prisoners–well, 7 anyway. It was officially declared a national holiday on July 6, 1880. It’s a good excuse to spend your weekend drinking champagne, eating wonderfully unhygenic cheese, wearing berets, and listening to “La vie en rose” over and over (it’s MY excuse, anyway, though really every day is a good day for champagne and Piaf!)

To help you get your celebration in order, here are a few links to give you some party pointers and a few quotes to inspire you.

Fun party drinks (they mostly appear to be sticky-sweet concoctions made from things like cherry brandy, but I think the Marie Antoinette sounds sort of yummy…)

Fun party menus (though with drinks like the Montmartre, who needs food???)

Official stuff from the French Embassy

And more on how to celebrate

“France has more need of me than I have need of France” –Napoleon

“It’s true that the French have a certain obsession with sex, but it’s a particularly adult obsession. France is the thriftiest of all nations; to a Frenchman sex provides the most economical way to have fun. The French are a logical race.” –Anita Loos

“In America, only the successful writer is important; in France all writers are important; in England no writer is important; and in Australia you have to explain what a writer is” —
Geoffrey Cottrell

“I have tried to lift France out of the mud. But she will return to her errors and vomitings. I cannot prevent the French from being French.” –Charles de Gaulle

“Boy, those French. They have a different word for everything.” –Steve Martin

“Paris is always a good idea.” –Audrey Hepburn in Sabrina

“To err is human. To loaf is Parisian.” –Victor Hugo

“Frenchmen are like gunpowder, each by itself smutty and contemptible, but mass them together and they are terrible indeed!” –Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Janeway_PicsI’ve been streaming Star Trek: Voyager on Netflix a lot lately. Although the series (like all the Star Trek series) had some uneven writing, I do love the strong female characters, including Captain Kathryn Janeway.

Some Star Trek fans hated her, but I’m with Sara Eileen Hames, who wrote this blog post on the TOR website: “Janeway Doesn’t Deserve this Shit”.

Hames quotes one of the more egregious bits of snark she has read about Janeway:

“What they needed was a take charge, dynamic female Captain, what they gave us was a moralizing, overly-liberal pushover all too willing to throw her crew’s life away for no reason at all if it made her seem superior and at least as interested in prancing around in frilly dresses on the holodeck as she is in leading her crew.”

So there it is—her worst offence is taking a little free time from her stressful job to enjoy a romance holo-novel. The horror!

And not just any romance, but a historical romance featuring a governess. How cool is that?

Here’s something Hames herself wrote that sums up how I feel:

“Janeway is a strong female character to rock all strong female characters: A leader who is female-gendered, in touch with her sense of gender, and yet invested with a non-gendered position of highest responsibility which she executes with capability and compassion.”

In other words, everything that is most frightening to the fan-boys who admire Kirk’s girl-on-every-planet exploits. (Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy Kirk, but he does fall in love rather easily…)

Here’s another reason I love Janeway. She’s older than your average kickass heroine. While I enjoy heroines like The Avengers’ Black Widow, as played by Scarlett Johansson, and though they are interesting characters in their own right, they can also be perceived as serving the purpose of appealing to the fantasies of teenaged boys (and less evolved older men). Captain Janeway is sexy but her purpose is to captain a starship.

Likewise, a good romance heroine has more to her than beauty. She may or may not be physically tough, but she always has strength of character, like Jane Austen’s heroines who refuse to cave in to pressure and marry men not worthy of them.

It’s been far too long since I’ve had much time to read, so my favorite examples of strong historical romance heroines are from older books: Alys from Mary Jo Putney’s The Rake and the Reformer, who works as a land steward and supports the hero in battling his alcoholism, and Melanthe from Laura Kinsale’s For My Lady’s Heart, who is outwardly tough as nails while hiding heartbreaking secrets.

I hope at some point to have time to read more for pleasure, so help me out. Which historical romances have you read recently that feature particularly strong heroines?

Elena

Eating Ice Cream
My dear Cassandra,—I take the first sheet of fine striped paper to thank you for your letter from Weymouth, & express my hopes of your being at Ibthorp before this time. I expect to hear that you reached it yesterday Evening, being able to get as far as Blandford on wednesday.—Your account of Weymouth contains nothing which strikes me so forcibly as there being no Ice in the Town; for every other vexation I was in some measure prepared; & particularly for your disappointment in not seeing the Royal Family go on board on tuesday, having already heard from Mr Crawford that he had seen you in the very act of being too late. But for there being no Ice, what could prepare me?

(from Jane Austen’s letters, 14 September 1804)

 

As it’s so hot here that my brain is slowly melting (the majority of houses in this part of the world don’t have AC), I thought we could talk about desserts. Ice creams in particular. (And I certainly feel for poor Cassandra—no ice cream! Gah!) (Why is there no ice cream in my freezer?!!?!?)

Last November Myretta wrote a post about ice houses and how ice cream was made in the Regency period, while in a post in April Rose showed us an ice-pail, in which ice cream was brought to the table. (Wait, you don’t eat it straight out of the bowl? Because homemade ice cream is, like, the best thing in the world!)

When I looked up various ice cream recipes from the Regency period, I was quite surprised to see that a lot of recipes call for putting the cream with the sugar and/or jam/fruit puree directly into the freezing pot. In my experience, it’s easier to use a thick custard as the base for ice cream: it’s creamier from the get-go & thus freezes more easily (though admittedly, there’s always the danger that you end up eating the custard before you get around to making the ice cream…).

In The Complete Confectioner, Frederick Nutt describes the historical method of making ice cream: the freezing pot with the ice cream base is put into a pail packed with ice and salt and rotated until the base has frozen. Nutt also elaborates on the difficulties and pitfalls of making ice cream: “[D]o not be sparing of salt, for if you do not use enough it will not freeze” (from the 1807 edition, which you can find on Google Books). And there’s nothing more frustrating than when your ice cream won’t freeze!

I’ve long loved Nutt’s book, and the section on ice creams is particularly awesome. For not only does he suggest adding a little cochineal to give your ice cream a pretty color, but he also lists 32 (THIRTY-TWO!!!!) different recipes, with flavours ranging from raspberry ice cream to biscuit ice cream to Parmasan ice cream. That’s a man after my own heart!

In contrast to poor Cassandra in Weymouth in 1804, many of Jane Austen’s characters get to enjoy ice cream. In Northanger Abbey Maria Thorpe tells Catherine, the heroine, about an outing the day before:

“—that they had driven directly to the York Hotel, ate some soup, and bespoke an early dinner, walked down to the pump–room, tasted the water, and laid out some shillings in purses and spars; thence adjoined to eat ice at a pastry–cook’s, and hurrying back to the hotel, swallowed their dinner in haste, to prevent being in the dark; and then had a delightful drive back, only the moon was not up, and it rained a little, and Mr. Morland’s horse was so tired he could hardly get it along.”

A rather more exciting visit to a pastry cook’s can be found in The Beautiful Cassandra, one of Austen’s very early works:

“She then proceeded to a Pastry-cooks where she devoured six ices, refused to pay for them, knocked down the Pastry Cook and walked away.”

Tee-hee!

And now please excuse me while I go & rummage in the freezer in the hope of finding some hidden carton of ice cream.

Posted in Food | 1 Reply

Our guest blogger today is Deb Barnhart, a long time friend and fellow romance reader. I asked her to tell us why she reads Regencies and her answer follows. But I also encourage you to check out her Pinterest site to see some of the lovely Regency images she has collected. Thanks Deb for the kind words and your thoughtful response

Regency historicals touch my romantic soul at its deepest level. Whenever I enter that time period through the imagination of favorite writers, like Mary Blayney, Loretta Chase, Cathy Maxwell and Lorraine Heath, there is a level of intimacy present that I don’t find in contemporaries or other historicals.
For me, that early 19th century time frame offers so much more freedom in character and story where it runs the gamut of dark to light, sweet to sexy, drama to comedy. I love that kind of variety when I’m looking for a good read and Regency authors always provide it.7724e76dd128d1585b1595bd6676919a

Of course, Jane Austen is still a favorite of mine and Georgette Heyer is always good company, but I have read every one of Mary Blayney’s Pennistan series and the Braedons with the same level of joy and pleasure. Loretta Chase’s LORD OF SCROUNDRELS could not be sexier or more fun to read, unless I’m reading Janet Mullaney. I recently reread THE RAKE by Mary Jo Putney and found it as fresh as when I first read it.

I am such a Regency fan girl. The authors I mentioned, and the many I have not, have seen me through good times and bad. Regencies have allowed me to experience the Peninsular War, weekends in English country houses and evenings in infamous gaming hells. But from my very first Regency, what I love most about them is the romance. I adore stories about Dukes who find love for the first time and ladies who want nothing to do with it.

I love happy endings and Regencies do that best of all. They sweep me away from whatever crisis I am experiencing and into a past where pelisses are all the rage, women are feisty, love is always new and happy is ever after.th1T6QY5LS

Since you read this blog you read Regencies. So tell me was it Jane Austen, Georgette Heyer or Regency history generally that inspired you to write or read that genre?

Is there a Regency that you have read that has a special memory for you personally as a reader or a author?

I have one week left on my revisions deadline for Listen to the Moon at the moment and a lot of work still to do, so I’m updating and reprinting an old post from my blog—a very topical one, because as I’m sure you’ve heard, this week is the bicentennial of Waterloo. Now, of course the battle was a few days ago, on June 18th, but the news didn’t reach England right away…

This post was inspired by one of those perennial discussions about accuracy in historical romances over at History Hoydens. As you can see from my looong comment, this is something I’ve given a lot of thought to yet totally failed to come up with a coherent policy. I evaluate anachronisms on a case-by-case basis! My anachronism ethics are situational!

But you know what I do hate unequivocally? Apocryphal historical anecdotes repeated as fact. Like how Columbus wanted to prove the world was round (I was taught this in elementary school! It makes me FURIOUS!), or how Queen Victoria didn’t believe in lesbians (this myth is not even that old, it originated in 1977). Now this is frequently a mistake made in good faith but I think that is what annoys me the most—how these lies become so ubiquitous they completely obscure the truth. The truth matters! Which leads me to…

The news of Waterloo. My spy romance A Lily Among Thorns is set in London in the two weeks before the battle.

But…they’re not actually the two weeks before the battle. They’re the two weeks before the news of the battle reached London, late on the night of Wednesday, June 21st. The news quickly spread, turning into an impromptu parade through the streets of London. It must have been so thrilling!

Of course, Nathan Rothschild knew about the outcome of the battle first.

a Regency portrait of a balding Jewish guy, probably in early middle age, in a dark coat and white cravat.

Nathan Mayer Rothschild, by Moritz Daniel Oppenheim.
Image via Wikimedia Commons.

The popular story is that he went to the ‘Change and purposely led traders to believe he knew the battle had been lost. There was a panic and he was able to buy up “consols” (OED: “An abbreviation of Consolidated Annuities, i.e. the government securities of Great Britain”) at a very low price, seizing control of the Bank of England and making his fortune.

I totally believed this! You read about it everywhere! It’s in Georgette Heyer’s A Civil Contract! (Just another reason to dislike that book.) I included it in the first draft of A Lily Among Thorns. But oops, it is FALSE. The story originated in an anti-Semitic pamphlet in 1846, a clear relative of theories that Jews secretly run the government and/or the economy.

(The post I just linked to, by the way, also makes it clear that Rothschild was not the only person in London to have early news of the battle and that both word-of-mouth and printed rumors were circulating freely by Wednesday morning.)

Here’s what The House of Rothschild: Money’s Prophets 1798-1848 by Niall Ferguson has to say:

No doubt it was gratifying to receive the news of Napoleon’s defeat first, thanks to the speed with which Rothschild couriers were able to relay a newspaper version of the fifth and conclusive extraordinary bulletin—issued in Brussels at midnight on June 18—via Dunkirk and Deal to reach New Court [the location of the Rothschilds’ bank’s London branch] on the night of the 19th. This was just twenty-four hours after Wellington’s victorious meeting with Blücher on the battlefield and nearly forty-eight hours before Major Henry Percy delivered Wellington’s official dispatch to the Cabinet as its members dined at Lord Harrowby’s house (at 11 p.m. on the 21st.) Indeed, so premature did Nathan’s information appear that it was not believed when he relayed it to the government on the 20th; nor was a second Rothschild courier from Ghent.

He then explains that Waterloo was actually financially disastrous for the Rothschilds, who were financing the British army and had all their money tied up in things that were suddenly no longer necessary—and no longer likely to be paid for by the government.

In London, a frantic Nathan sought to make good the damage; and it is in this context that the firm’s purchases of British stocks have to be seen. On [June] 20, the evening edition of the London Courier reported that Nathan had made “great purchases of stock.” A week later Roworth heard that Nathan had “done well by the early information which you had of the Victory gained at Waterloo” and asked to participate in any further purchased of government stock “if in your opinion you think any good can be done.” This would seem to confirm the view that Nathan did indeed buy consols on the strength of his prior knowledge of the battle’s outcome. However, the gains made in this way cannot have been very great. As Victor Rothschild conclusively demonstrated, the recovery of consols from their nadir of 53 in fact predated Waterloo by over a week, and even if Nathan had made the maximum possible purchase of £20,000 on June 20, when consols stood at 56.5 and sold a week later when they stood at 60.6, his profits would barely have exceeded £7,000.

(As a matter of fact, even the supposed quote from the Courier simply does not exist—and mention of it first appeared two years after the publication of the abovementioned anti-Semitic pamphlet, as a new footnote in the second edition of a very popular history of Europe.)

Ferguson goes on to demonstrate that the Rothschild brothers were in dire financial straits all through 1815 and beyond—they did come out on top in the end, of course, but not with a controlling interest in the Bank of England. (He also talks at length about their disorganized accounting practices. The whole chapter is incredibly detailed and fascinating—I haven’t read the whole book yet but I want to.)

Diane did a great Riskies post on this topic around the same time I made my original post, which includes a lovely account of the news of the battle reaching England. I really recommend watching the video even though it’s kind of long—and if you don’t want to watch the whole thing, at LEAST watch the first couple minutes so you can see the clip from a Nazi propaganda film depicting an exaggerated version of the apocryphal Consols story.

What’s your favorite/least favorite apocryphal historical anecdote?

(And by the way, A Lily Among Thorns fans, I am taking reader prompts and requests for mini-stories about the characters of Lily in honor of the Bicentennial, so stop by and tell me who/what you’d like to know more about!)

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