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Apologies to anyone who tried to get onto the Riskies recently and couldn’t. Some of us could, some of us couldn’t, but eventually we sent Carolyn out with a blunt instrument and she clubbed something at FB until it lay as a mangled, wretched mess.

So I thought the least I could do to show my appreciation is to continue the saga of the mysterious letter to our hero, which, as you may remember, had a faint violet scent (oh good one, I typed violent first).

My lord, the letter read.

Your proposal interests me greatly.I shall call at three, if that would be at all agreeable.

C

The Earl of Haque dangled the letter between his fingers as he regarded the visitor his butler had announced as Mr. Crewe. “A perfume factory in this house?”

Crewe grinned through gapped teeth. “You said you was agreeable, my lord. Your idea, in fact. Lots of extra rooms, you have here. Close to the canal.” He fingered a priceless Chinese vase on the mantelpiece. “Oops. Sorry.”

Haque tugged the bellpull to summon a footman to deal with the fragments.

“Besides, it’s the least you can do for your brother, innit?”

“Brother?”

“Twin brother.” Crewe beamed. “Identical.”

“Identical?” Haque glanced at the mirror above the mantelpiece, which reflected his blond, well-tailored, six feet of pure lithe muscle [insert suitably heroic description here] and Crewe’s five foot nothing of dark hirsuteness. Something was wrong, very wrong.

“Yep. And I’m the eldest by five minutes.” Crewe produced a handkerchief soaked in his product and blew his nose. He sank onto the sofa, apparently overcome with emotion, and something screamed and fled for the door.

“That was the cat,” Haque said, looking around for a suitable weapon. Yes indeed, the canal was very near, and …

“My lord, a lady has come to call,” said the butler, insinuating himself into the drawing room.

So now what happens?

Now, in reality, the world have paid too great a compliment to critics,
and have imagined them to be men of much greater profundity then they really
are. –Henry Fielding

Thank you, Mr. Fielding. I hope to remember to be humble. I have finally seen the new Pride and Prejudice movie (I am not addressing this part to Mr. Fielding, as he is dead of course, and the book was written about 60 years or so after his time) and I am weighing in.

Firstly, I welcomed it with delight. As I sat in the theater during the opening scene–a marvelous, expansive scene of a country sunrise–I thought of how much I enjoy seeing a new adaptation of this old novel. And I asked myself not to expect it to be what I…er…expected. I know the novel, having read it several times, and I don’t mind seeing something that adds to it. In fact, I love being shown something more about the characters I love in a credible way. But I tend to be rather protective of the story, and hate to see it unnecessarily tweaked, and heavens–altered.

I attended the movie with four friends–all of whom are familiar with the story from previous film versions. One is currently reading the novel–she hadn’t finished it yet, but she does have a good grasp of the period.

This movie tries hard to put the long book into movie length. It did so by changing scenes in the novel, eliminating some and causing the necessary conversation to occur elsewhere. It eliminated Mrs. Phillips, a sister of Mrs. Bennett, and the Hursts, the married sister of Mr. Bingley and her husband. The latter did not do any real harm to the story, but being anal about P&P, I had to mention it.

I had made some critical remarks before about some movie photographs re: costuming, but now I am going to take them back–because I feel the movie did an excellent job with that. It illustrated very well the difference in dress between an ordinary young woman and a member of the nobility, and I also admired how Mrs. Bennett was dressed in the style of her own youth–something I feel is realistic for a woman of her time who did not have the time or money to spend in London keeping up with the latest style, and like many older women of today, chose to stay with what she was used to wearing. Even her shoes were of a Georgian style–shabby and soiled, but right. For that, I am (as Jane would say) all admiration.

I have mixed feelings about the relative poverty the Bennetts were shown to have. (If you haven’t seen the movie yet–although I believe I am one of the last to have seen it–the Bennett manor house seemed to be in the center of a barnyard). Possible–certainly. Intended by Jane–I tend to doubt. The Bennetts in this movie appeared to be more like a relatively well-to-do farm family than gentry. They were restricted financially, but I believe that they would not have lived so inimately with their livestock. Mrs. Bennett was conscious of appearances, and if they could afford expensive ball gowns for their daughters, I should think they could afford to have fences. Ahem….

Other story elements…I have to wonder if someone not familiar with the story could have followed it in the film very well. I can’t have that perspective, and neither could any of my friends. Has anyone heard anything in that respect? The scenes cut rapidly from one to the other, leaping across time without giving any indication of it. There was almost a feeling that the story took place in a few weeks’ time instead of several months. And I did miss the nuance that the eliminated scenes could have provided…as a better showing of Lydia’s character before her downfall, and more of an understanding of Elizabeth’s character.

Additionally, I think it did not give Lydia’s elopement the emphasis it deserves in the story. I may be mistaken, but her act, a shattering event in the book, did not seem to come across as the crisis it would have been. Perhaps in needed more real time in the movie? I am not sure.

Nitpicks: Some scenes bothered me, as the one in which Mr. Bingley looked in on Jane in her sickroom–I am sure this would not have happened. Darcy with his shirt unbuttoned! This was a great departure from propriety for a gentleman, and if it could not have been helped, he would have begged Elizabeth’s pardon for his state–even if he was in love.

I could have done without the very last scene. ::Sigh::. Something about it seemed… well…modern to me. I was glad to learn they were already married in that scene, but their being out of doors in what constituted their underwear (with servants about somewhere) seemed a bit wrong.

Not nitpicks: In many ways I loved this movie. The characterizations were wonderful and so was the acting. I loved Darcy’s shyness, once one of my friends pointed out that his discomfort was likely due to not knowing how to act when socializing with his inferiors–and I mentally kicked myself for not thinking of that. In short, I want to see the movie again. And I feel it will generate more interest in Jane Austen, and this is always good! And I did love that kiss in the proposal scene, in spite of Darcy’s shirt. Some things are just timeless.

Thank you for tolerating my reflections on this movie, since it is not a new topic here. I am going to go back and read previous opinions given in Risky Regencies now that I have a perspective.

Laurie

 

Since it’s the end of the week (and a loooong week it was, at least for me as we head into this irritating, er, festive season), and a week away from Jane Austen’s birthday, I thought it might be fun to try another quiz. 🙂 This one comes again from the Jane Austen Centre newsletter, and is an Austen-at-Christmas theme. I’ll post answers tomorrow. Good luck, and let us know how you do!

1) With what feelings did Fanny Price creep slowly up the staircase at Mansfield after the Christmas ball?
a) Hopes and fears
b) Restless and agitated
c) Both of the above

2) What was served at the ball?
a) Soup and negus
b) Turkey
c) Bullet pudding

3) Who usually visited the Bennetts at Christmas?
a) Mr. Collins
b) Mr. Bingley
c) The Gardiners

4) Where did they spend Christmas after Elizabeth and Darcy married?
a) Netherfield
b) London
c) Pemberley

5) Who spent Christmas at Uppercross with the Musgroves, to improve the noise at Lyme?
a) Louisa
b) The little Harvilles
c) The Crofts

6) What amusement did Mrs. Musgrove find for them?
a) Making decorations with silk and gold paper
b) Snapdragon
c) A parlor game

7) Mr. and Mrs. Weston held a party on Christmas Eve. Who was absent?
a) Emma
b) Mr. John Knightley
c) Harriet

8) What nearly prevented the party from going ahead?
a) A fever
b) A sore throat
c) Snow

9) Jane Austen was born just before Christmas in what year?
a) 1770
b) 1775
c) 1776

10) What was the main ingredient of a Regency mince pie?
a) Brandy
b) Raisins
c) Meat

It’s tough to follow on after the heart-wrenching demise of Frisky the Goldfish (and now his successor, gone to both a watery and icy grave). So I thought I’d write today about servants, who I find far more fascinating than the folks upstairs in the drawing room in the labor-intensive regency household. Of course the best thing about servants, for a writer, is that they knew the household secrets and family dynamics better than anyone. I find it interesting, though, that so many regency-era writers get them all wrong, relying on vague ideas of what servants are like (and copying others’ mistakes).

For instance, a female servant would never answer the front door, unless the household was quite poor and she was theonly servant. Neither would she wear a black dress and white cap–that was a uniform that came in much later in the century. Footmen, dressed in livery, were the servants in an aristocrat household who dealed with visitors and guests–status symbols for the family, since there was a tax on male servants. It was the fashion to hire men who were similar in appearance and height, rather like a team of horses (leading to some very interesting possibilities if you have a mind like mine). Female servants hauled coals, emptied chamberpots, and did other dirty work, while their male (and better paid) colleagues minced around in daft uniforms and wigs opening doors and presenting billets-doux on salvers.

For an interesting breakdown on servants and their duties, visit this page (and if you poke around on the site you can also find out how to become a gentleman’s gentleman), http://www.butlerschool.com/interesting_facts.htm.

For a feel of servants’ living and working quarters, take a virtual tour of the “downstairs” at The Regency Town House–it’s described as a time capsule, as it’s the basement of a house in Hove (near Brighton) that has been virtually untouched for almost two centuries. Restoration of the main house, at 13 Brunswick Square is also underway and the servants’ quarters are a couple of doors down at number 10.

Another interesting servant-oriented stop on your next visit to England is Erddig, an historic house in North Wales, where the former owners (before it was taken over by the National Trust), bless them, didn’t throw away a thing for three centuries, including correspondence with their servants when the masters were away. This unusual family also had portraits painted of their servants and wrote poems in appreciation of them.

A book written for the National Trust about Erddig by Merlin Waterson, The Servants’ Hall, is out of print but you can find secondhand copies online. The Erddig family tradition of staff portraits continued well into the 20th century; in this 1912 photo, each staff member whimsically holdsa tool of their trade (the cook, front row left, is holding a dead pigeon. No wonder they look embarrassed).

The artist William Hogarth painted his servants’ portraits, too. Notice the age range, from a young boy to a middle aged man.

So what was it really like, to be in service? The servants themselves existed in a social heirarchy at least as complicated as that of the people Upstairs.You worked very long, hard hours for not much money, but it was a way, if you scrimped and saved, to make the upward trek into the middle-class. You might end up running an inn or a shop with your sweetheart of many years, if you’d saved up most of your wages and tips (a valuable addition to the low wages most servants earned). A manservant in the 1820s eloquently described his life: The life of a gentleman’s servant is something that of a bird shut up in a cage. The bird is well housed and well fed but is deprived of liberty, and liberty is the dearest and sweetest object of all Englishmen. Therefore I would rather be like a sparrow or a lark, have less housing and feeding and rather more liberty. A servant is shut up like a bird in a cage, deprived of the benefit of the air to the very great injury of the constitution.

Any good servant scenes in anything you’ve read recently? Have you ever wanted to write about servants?

Janet

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