Risky Regencies

Income Tax and the Regency

Updated on April 18, 2013 by Diane Gaston

**Cherry Blossoms in Washington, DC

Myretta entertained and educated us about some of the odd taxes that existed in and around “our” period. But today is Income Tax Day here in the US, so I went looking for some connection between income tax and the Regency.

There was an income tax during part of the Regency, it turns out.

An income tax was first introduced in 1799 by Prime Minister William Pitt the Younger, in order to pay for weapons and equipment for the impending Napoleonic War. It was a graduated income tax, levied at 2 pence a pound in incomes over 60 pounds, increased to 2 shillings per pound on incomes over 200 pounds.

The tax was on income from land, from public securities, from trade, professions, vocations and employment, income from interest, foreign income, and casual income (gambling winnings).

Although Pitt hoped that the tax would raise 10 million pounds, its actual amount for 1799 was 6 million. Later tax on dividend income was added.

Pitt’s income tax was abolished in 1802 when Henry Addington took over as Prime Minister (Pitt had resigned over Catholic Emancipation) and the Treaty of Amiens temporarily ended hostilities with France. Addington reintroduced the income tax a year later when the war started again. It was abolished in 1816, one year after the Battle of Waterloo.

There is another connection between Income Tax and the Regency. The first income tax proposed in the United States was during the War of 1812, which, of course, was with with England during “our” period. Ironically, the US income tax proposal was based on the British Tax Act of 1798. It was never levied, however, because the war ended before it came up for vote.

So….Have you complete your taxes yet? Or are you going to be in line at the Post Office minutes before 12 Midnight?

We did our taxes early this year. We sent them off yesterday!

(**I couldn’t find an Income Taxes image, so enjoy a glimpse of DC’s Cherry Blossoms!)

Posted in Regency, Research | Tagged income tax | 4 Replies

Lavinia Kent and Georgianna: The Last Real Duchess

Updated on April 18, 2013 by Diane Gaston

Welcome back my friend Lavinia Kent! Lavinia is known for her hot, smart, sexy and intelligent Regency Historicals for Avon. What the Duke Wants, for example. Or her very creative Real Duchesses of London ebook short story series.

I thoroughly enjoyed Lavinia’s Real Duchesses series! But I’m not alone. Here are a few of the Amazon reviews:

“…she managed to capture intense emotions and give great characters even in a really short novella, so kudos!” — Stella (Ex Libris), Of Kathryn, The Kitten.

“Another fun, fresh addition to what is shaping up to be a fantastic set of novellas that feature tests to the bonds of friendship, cattiness, laughter, and the overpowering result of true love.” — Lisa Wolff, of Linette, The Lioness.

“The marriage of convenience is one of my favorite tropes in romance and Kent’s Elizabeth, The Enchantress is a magnificent marriage of convenience tale.” — Yvonne.

Lavinia has continued the Real Duchesses of London series with a brand new novella — Georgianna: The Last Real Duchess and she’s giving away a Kindle download of the novella (or a copy of a signed copy of an earlier book) to one lucky commenter.

Here’s the Amazon blurb:

Lavinia Kent returns to her iconic Real Duchesses of London series of novellas to tell the story of Georgianna, the last Real Duchess. When Georgianna’s husband. Lord Richard, unexpectedly becomes a duke, the two are brought together and then torn apart as each tries to find a place in their new lives. Georgianna had married for love – only to discover her husband’s mistress. Now the two find themselves sharing residence at the ducal estate. Are circumstance and passion enough to bring the two together? Can Richard reveal the love he has barely admitted to himself? Can Georgianna forgive him for all the hurt and lies?
Will one night of passion become a lifetime of love?

Welcome back, Lavinia! Tell us about The Real Duchesses of London series and about Georgianna, The Last Real Duchess.

I had so much fun writing this series. I loved the idea of writing about a group of strong women who would support each other during hard times. The first four novellas are definitely tied together in an overarching story.

Georgianna is more of a stand-alone story, although the other duchesses do appear.

I had originally hoped to write her story as full-length novel, but time and circumstance got in the way. I had a hard time cutting some of the earlier scenes to create something tighter, but I think in the end I succeeded in creating a novella about emotional trust.

You created quite a challenge for yourself. Both writing short novellas AND planning a series. How did you manage it?

The first four were relatively easy – except for the time pressure involved in writing a novella a month. They left me feeling a little burned out. I discovered that I get so attached to my characters when writing, that I needed more time to make the transition to the next hero and heroine.

I found writing Georgianna to be more difficult because I wasn’t following my original plan, but I still wanted to write a compelling love story.

What is risky about Georgiana, The Last Real Duchess?

Georgianna has to learn to trust a man who has completely betrayed her. Everything she believed when she fell in love and married turned out to be a big lie. She must make the decision to take a great risk, rather than live without love.

Did you come across any interesting research while writing the novella (or the series)?

I had a lot of fun researching political cartoons when I was working on the earlier four books of the series. I enjoyed thinking about the different ways information has been distributed over time. We take so much for granted today about how quickly information spreads. It was interesting to consider how differently a scandal would spread during the Regency.

For Georgianna, I researched funerals, but none of my work made it onto the page when I shortened the story. I’m saving it for later.

What’s the connection between the caricature of the Real Duchesses on your website and Risky Regencies?

The fabulous Janet Mullany’s daughter drew the original sketch for the caricature. I loved it, and it helped make the characters really come alive in my mind.

You’ve recently embarked on an indy published series. Tell us about it. How can readers find the books?

The series is called The Desire Series and consists of three books: Hint of Desire, Price of Desire, and Taste of Desire. This series is a prequel to my books for Avon. The hero of my first book, A Talent for Sin is the younger brother of the hero in Taste of Desire.

The series is currently on available on Amazon for Kindle, but I am working on increasing formats.

What’s next for you?

Ahh, the most difficult question of all. Currently, I’m working on (and about to finish) a prequel novella for a brand new regency series. This series is completely unrelated to any of the books I’ve already written.

If all goes as planned, this series will be darker and more erotic than my current books.

I’m also working on a steampunk romance that requires more world building than I’ve ever done before. It features a wonderful hero, and I’m working hard at getting him out of my head and onto page.

Thank you for having me at Risky Regencies. I love having the chance to visit.

And now my question for readers – one of whom will win either a Kindle copy of Georgianna: The Last Real Duchess or a signed copy of one of my earlier books.

At the end of the prequel I’m currently writing, the hero sends the heroine a gift. I’m debating whether he should give her a beautiful enameled hand mirror or kitten. There are reasons why each would be appropriate.

The hero has never actually seen the heroine’s face, and in the next book he will recognize the heroine because of the gift.

So, mirror or kitten? Help!

Posted in Giveaways, Interviews | Tagged Lavinia Kent, Real Duchesses of London | 16 Replies

Able was I ere I saw Elba

Updated on April 18, 2013 by Janet Mullany

On this day in 1814, the Treaty of Fontainebleu deposed Napoleon and sent him into exile to the island of Elba. He escaped just under a year later, set sail for France, and in one of those unexpected twists of history, returned to power. No one’s quite sure how he managed to escape, but Napoleon was a man of great energy and industry, and although contemporary cartoons depict him as a disconsolate exile on a rocky island, that was artistic license.

Now one of the many differences between the rest of us and the Corsican Monster is that if we were living in a castle in this sort of scenery, we’d grit our teeth and stay put. But not Napoleon. Apart from plotting his escape, he was quite busy as Emperor of Elba, carrying out social and economic reforms. He had a personal escort of 1,000 men, a household staff, and 110,000 subjects.

But it was a time of great misery for Napoleon, the man who’d once had almost all of Europe at his feet. The Treaty of Fontainbleu also sent his wife and son to Vienna. Napoleon was so distraught he attempted to commit suicide with a vial of poison he carried, but the poison was old and only made him sick. Shortly after his arrival, he learned of the death of the former Empress Josephine.

It’s possible his English guardians on the island aided, or at least turned a blind eye to, Napoleon’s escape plans. The restored French monarchy was proving unsatisfactory, which meant that once again the balance of power in Europe was threatened. This is discussed in this fascinating article, A Sympathetic Ear: Napoleon, Elba, and the British, which also explores the phenomenon of Napoleon as tourist trap.

British seamen proved to be keen visitors. Indeed, Napoleon had embarked for Elba on April 28th, aboard the frigate HMS Undaunted, whose captain, Thomas Ussher, wrote home on May 1st: ‘It has fallen to my extraordinary lot to be the gaolor of the instrument of the misery Europe has so long endured’. By the end of the month, the man whom Ussher could not even bring himself to name had become his ‘bon ami’, and had given him 2,000 bottles of wine, and a diamond encrusted snuffbox. In return Ussher presented Napoleon with a barge, which he flatteringly reserved for his own exclusive use.

Napoleon landed in Cannes on March 1, 1815 and declared:

I am the sovereign of the Island of Elba, and have come with six hundred men to attack the King of France and his six hundred thousand soldiers. I shall conquer this kingdom.

As he progressed through France, soldiers sent to attack him instead joined him, so that he made a triumphant return into Paris on March 20. There’s a great first-hand account of his arrival here.

So, if you’d gone to visit Napoleon on Elba with the expectation that he’d probably give you lots of wine and a diamond-encrusted snuffbox, what would you take him as a gift?

Now onto shameless self-promotion. If you’re in Maryland, I’m going to be signing tomorrow at the Catonsville Historical Society, 7 – 9 pm in the company of some excellent authors. Looks like there will be some wine too!

Posted in Research | Tagged Napoleon Bonaparte | 2 Replies

At The Movies

Updated on April 18, 2013 by Amanda McCabe/Laurel McKee

“Kindness” covers all of my political beliefs. … I believe that if, at the end, according to our abilities, we have done something to make others a little happier, and something to make ourselves a little happier, that is about the best we can do. To make others less happy is a crime. To make ourselves unhappy is where all crime starts. We must try to contribute joy to the world. That is true no matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances. We must try. I didn’t always know this and am happy I lived long enough to find it out. Roger Ebert, 1942—2013

“The more Roger became a prisoner of his body, the more he seemed to escape into his rich and sophisticated mind. By the agreement of almost everyone I know, his writing in these last years was among the best he’d ever done, more personal and expansive, marked by a still-astonishing rate of productivity. He wrote a wonderful memoir, close in its deceptively profound, plainspoken way to two of the writers Roger most admired: Charles Dickens and Samuel Johnson. And indeed, Roger was nothing if not an Anglophile: Among the least known books he authored is a slender volume called ‘The Perfect London Walk,’ an instructional travel book that, having taken the journey it maps, I can assure you is a rare case of truth in titling.” (Scott Foundas, Variety)

Last week, a great person passed away when Roger Ebert died at age 70. Since he seemed above all to appreciate great storytelling (and to be a great storyteller himself!) I wanted to talk a little about him here.

I love movies for the same reason I love books and writing—I love stories and characters, I love how they can show us deep truths about ourselves and the world around us in a way nothing else can. In Roger Ebert’s reviews and blog essays, I found this same passion, and was always inspired by what he had to say. Every week I ran to his blog to see what new movies were coming out, because he always told us not only what to see but how to think about what we had seen. How to find the truth of every story, good and bad, in our own hearts. (In fact, the number one best piece of writing advice I ever read came from him–”It’s not what a movie is about, it’s how it is about it.” This is true for books as well as something like, say, Tree of Life or La Dolce Vita)

“He saw, and felt, and described the movies more effectively, more cinematically, and more warmly than just about anyone writing about anything. Even his pans had a warmth to them. Even when you disagreed with Roger you found yourself imagining the movie he saw, and loved (or hated) more than you did.” (Michael Phillips, Chicago Tribune)

His reviews were always witty and intelligent, clearly written and evocative. Never snobby (he loved a great popcorn movie as much as French indie) or faux-populist. Just clear, beautiful writing evoking what makes a story great, or even what makes it, well, suck. He always just seemed like a super-smart guy who wanted to talk to us all about movies, who wanted to hear what we thought as much as he wanted to tell us his own opinions. (his very active Twitter account can testify to how much he seemed to love that connection!). And his writing on politics and social causes was just as evocative and amazing as his movie reviews. He loved movies, people, and life, and it always came through in his writing.

“The irony is that it all feels so personally sad. It feels so personally, profoundly awful and unfair, and I feel it with the grief nerves, not just the admiration nerves, because people whose books you destroy from overuse as a 16-year-old, you will grieve when they die as if you knew them, whether they are novelists or critics. But still, after all that, I was doing all right until I remembered that he’s not going to write about any more movies. And I’m still not ready for that.” (Linda Holmes, NPR)

He was an inspiration in real life as well. His great love for his wife and family, his kindness and humanity, the way he forged ahead with life in the face of immense health problems that would have made most of us give up, the way he always found wonder and connection no matter what, is an example for everyone in the best way to live our lives and make the most of our precious time and talents.

“‘Start writing. Short sentences. Describe it. Just describe it.”

“Roger said, when I asked him about writer’s block. Then he quoted the first three paragraphs of his ‘Persona’ review and told me that it had completely baffled him in 1967 but this strategy worked brilliantly. Tonight, as I sit here numbly staring at the screen with the hardest writer’s block I’ve ever known, I place my fingers on the keyboard to follow the advice of the greatest man I know, and just describe it.” (Grace Wang)

(You can read his last review, and many tributes, at his website…)

It’s hard when we lose our heroes. It’s hard to know I will never see what he thinks about a new movie again. But I can enjoy re-reading his words, and can be inspired by them all over again. Who are some of your heroes this week?? What inspiration have you found at the movies?

Posted in TV and Film, Writing | Tagged Roger Ebert | 5 Replies

Venus de Milo

Updated on April 18, 2013 by Diane Gaston

Today marks the 193rd anniversary of the discovery of the Venus de Milo on the Aegean island of Melos. In 1820 Melos was under the rule of the Ottoman Turks.

The famous statue, broken into several pieces, was discovered by a farmer who’d been removing stones from and ancient wall. He showed his discovery to two French ensigns whose ships were in port. One of the ensigns, Jules Dumont d’Urville, later told the Comte de Marcellus, secretary to the Marquis de Rivière, the French ambassador in Constantinople, who convinced the ambassador that he should purchase the statue and present it as a gift to restored King Louis XVIII.

Marcellus traveled to Melos only to discover that the statue had been sold to a provincial pasha but the local officials were convinced that France had the earlier claim. Marcellus paid the officials 250 francs and the farmer, 750. The Turks also fined the officials for not holding the statue for the French, but Rivière reimbursed them in return for a quittance so that the claim on the statue could not be disputed. (Although it later was disputed by the Germans who claimed they owned the land upon which it was discovered. That dispute continued into the twentieth century)

The Venus de Milo arrived in Paris and was presented to the king in March, 1821, although he was too obese to see it and did not see it for another year. Its restoration was under the supervision of the Comte de Forbin who had been named director of the Louvre in 1816. The Venus de Milo became a source of pride for France, a worthy rival to the British Museum’s acquisition of the Elgin Marbles and some compensation for the loss of the Apollo Belvedere and the Venus de’ Medici, both returned to Italy after Napoleon’s defeat.

More controversy ensued as to the age of the statue. Was it a masterpiece of the Classical Age or an example from the later, less prestigious Hellenistic period? The latter won out eventually and the Louvre dates the statue from around 120 BC.

Another dilemma was whether the arms should be restored. All that was discovered of the arms was a fragment of a hand holding an apple. Ultimately Forbin decided not to restore the arms.

The Comte de Forbin led a rather exciting life. An artist, in the early 1800s he was the lover of Napoleon’s sister, Pauline. When she tired of him, he was sent to war, distinguishing himself in battle
and winning a Legion of Honor. He also had an affair with Madame Récamier. Both women are immortalized in the Louvre. Pauline in a statue of by Canova; Récamier in a portrait by David.

Jules Dumont d’Urville, one of the ensigns who was originally shown the Venus, rose to become a rear admiral and a renowned French explorer, botanist and cartographer. He explored the Pacific, Australia, New Zealand and Antarctica. He is mentioned by Jules Verne in 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. Dumont d’Urville and his whole family died in the flames of the Versailles train crash, France’s first railway disaster.

Have you seen the Venus de Milo? What is your favorite statue, ancient or not?

Posted in Research | Tagged Venus di Milo | 6 Replies