Back to Top

Mungo Park (not a place–he was named after a Scottish saint), was born this day in 1771, near Selkirk, Scotland, and was an early explorer of Africa, generally credited with being the first European to find the Niger River. He’s a fascinating character who deserves more than one post, but I was particularly pleased to find it was his birthday today as I’m currently reading a wonderful book by Richard Holmes, The Age of Wonder: How the Romantic Generation Discovered the Beauty and Terror of Science. It’s currently on sale at half price at bookdepository.com and you can read a far more coherent account than mine of the book at salon.com.

It seems like every couple of years I come across a nonfiction book that moves and inspires me and this is one of them. The last history book I raved about was Bury the Chains by Adam Hochschild (if you’ve ever had a conversation with me invariably I tell you to read it). Like Hochschild, Holmes has a vivid grasp of the age and his writing is beautiful.

Now my problem is that I haven’t got to the Mungo Park chapter yet (I’ve been reading about William Herschel, the balloonists of the age, and another explorer, botanist Joseph Banks who visited Tahiti, but I skipped ahead and browsed around).

Parks was a Calvinist, born in humble circumstances, eventually becoming a doctor with a severe case of wanderlust. His first expedition was as Assistant Surgeon on a naval expedition to Sumatra.

He was recruited by Joseph Banks on behalf of the Africa Assocation which sponsored expeditions, and as relations became hostile between France and England, moved from scientific and commercial interests to political ones. Similarly, it was proposed, and feared, that the French might invade England with balloons (something I’m strongly tempted to include in the WIP, but resisting). So the Africa Association wanted to find the legendary city of Timbuctoo (where buildings were reputedly roofed with gold) and discover a trade route via the Niger before the Frogs got there.

Here’s an excerpt about one of Parks’ experiences in 1796 shortly after he’d caught his first sight of the Niger. He’d been approached by an African woman and was a bit nervous of what he might encounter, following an embarrassing episode where a group of Moorish women had examined him to see if Christians were circumcized. “I thought it best to treat the business jocularly.”

But the woman took him home to her family where they sat around him spinning cotton and singing him to sleep.

Park suddenly realized the song was extempore, and the subject was himself. He was amazed when he began to understand the words: ‘It was sung by one of the young women, the rest joining in a sort of chorus. The air wa sweet and plaintive, and the words literally translated, were these:–“The winds roared, and the rain fell. The poor white man, faint and weary, came and sat under our trees. He has no mother to bring him milk,; no wife to grind his corn. Chorus: Let us pity the poor white man, no mother has he…”‘

The women reversed all Park’s assumptions about his travel in Africa. He realised that it was he–the heroic white man–who was in reality the lonely, ignorant, pitiable, motherless and unloved outcast. It was he who came and sat under their tree, and drank at their river. He found it hard to sleep that night, and in the morning he gave the woman four brass buttons from his coat before he left, a genuinely precious gift.

When his Travels were published in Britain, this incident had a strong impact on its readers who included Georgiana Duchess of Devonshire. She rewrote the song and had it set to music by Italian composer Giorgio Ferrari. But you’ll see she also restored the current thinking, of the European “discovering” Africa.

Apologies for the lateness of this post and I hope you enjoyed the snippet about Mungo Park and the excerpt.

What have you read lately that’s inspired you?

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 5 Replies

Here’s a few interesting things from The New Family Receipt Book

393. To prevent excessive Thirst in Case of Emergency at Sea, in the Summer Time

When thirst is excessive, as is often the case in summer time during long voyages, avoid if possible, even in times of the greatest necessity, the drinking of salt water to ally the thirst, but rather keep thinly clad, and frequently dip in the sea, which will appease both hunger and thirst for a long time, and prevent the disagreeable sensation of swallowing salt water.

So my reaction to this was, WTF? Don’t drink salt water? Doh! But there’s some scary stuff here, such as “. . . as is often the case. . .” What? I thought the mini package of pretzels on the plane was a cruel travel hardship. But is it really the case that ship passengers might routinely become so thirsty during summer voyages that they would drink salt water, which, you must admit, is implied as something commonly occurring. And then there’s the part about frequently dipping in the sea. How, if you’re on a ship?

Captain: (Signals to bosun to blow whistle)

Bosun: Ahhhh-weeee-ahh

First Mate: Good morning, passengers. (Consults watch) The exits are located here and here (pointing with both arms). The Marines, whom you will recognize by their red coats, have thrown ropes over the side at the locations denoted by the yellow signal flags. At the next whistle, jump overboard using the feet first position.

(A sailor demonstrates. Distant splash heard.)

When in the water, immediately locate the nearest rope and hold on tightly. (Demonstrating with a short length of knotted rope) Once you hear the whistle blow again, hold onto the rope and climb back aboard so that the next group of passengers may have their refreshing, complimentary dip in the sea. Do please avoid swallowing any sea water. Thank you for sailing HMS Bounteous.

(pause)

First Mate: All female passengers should please line up at the starboard side by the Captain’s quarters. We on the HMS Bounteous care about your privacy.

Bosun: Ahhhh-weeee-ahh

656. To make Lip Salve
Take an ounce of white wax and ox marrow, three ounces of white pomatum, and melt all in a bath heat; add a drachm of alkanet, and stir it in till it acquire a reddish color.

Don’t know how to make pomatum? Recipes for pomatum. A drachm is one eighth of a fluid ounce. Alkanet is a plant that, among other things, produces a red dye.

I’m not clear on why this recipe calls for white wax and ox marrow when the white pomatum already contains these items. I would be tempted to use 4 ounces of white pomatum and add the alkanet.

However, I have been known to crash and burn in the kitchen for just such substitutions, so follow this advice at your own risk.

Now, the really interesting thing about this is the commonly held belief among a certain set that the use of agents to color one’s lips made a woman, not to put to fine a point on it, very fast indeed.

Father: You march right upstairs young lady and wipe that odious concoction off your lips.

Young Lady: But, Dad! I have chapped lips. (Eyes going wide and filling with tears) I can’t go to the ball with chapped lips. (tears threatening) Everyone will laugh at me and Lord Bigdeal will take one look at me and decide he likes Miss Carstairs better than me because her mother lets her use salve.

Father: (Points upstairs)

Mother: Harold, dear. Really. Do you want to spend next season in London, too?

461. The Phosphoric Pencil
Is a small bit of phosphorus, put into a quill, and kept in a phial, in water; when you write, dip your pencil often in the water, to prevent its taking fire.

Is it me or does this sound dangerous?

Kid 1: Now write Mr. Longboats eats cow patties (giggling)

Kid 2: (writes)

Kid 2: Add Billy loves Molly

Billy: Do not!

Kid 2: (writes but there is a struggle for control of the pencil…)

poof!

(Pandemonium until Kid 2 throws the paper and pencil into a nearby urn. Another rearranges the ledger books over the burn mark on the desk.)

Right, like you never accidentally set your paper on fire when you were trying to make the lemon juice turn the writing yellow.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged | 11 Replies

Happy Tuesday, everyone! I hope you’ve all survived the holiday weekend and are looking forward to autumn weather as much as I am (considering it’s above 90 degrees here today, it’s not ready to arrive yet). In the meantime, my Great House Clean-Out goes on (though is almost done), the WIP moves forward (almost half finished!), and next week I will do my Birthday Prize post. Today I’ll take a look at one of history’s great mysteries, the death of Amy Robsart Dudley, which happened on this day in 1560.

Amy Robsart was born in Norfolk on June 7, 1532, the daughter of a prosperous landowner named Sir John Robsart and his wife Elizabeth. When she was about 18, she married Robert Dudley (later Earl of Leicester), a younger son of John Dudley, first Duke of Northumberland. (Robert’s brother Guilford later married Lady Jane Grey, the “Nine Days Queen,” and was executed with her after the failure of their families’ coup. The marriage to Amy perhaps saved Robert from that fate, since he was not available to marry Jane). The betrothal appears to have been a love match, since they had first met about 10 months before and there was little financial or connection gained, and William Cecil (Dudley’s great enemy, or one of them) later called it “this carnal marriage.” The wedding, attended by King Edward VI, took place on June 4, 1550.

They didn’t have much time for marital bliss, though. Robert’s father joined with his in-laws to try and overthrow Queen Mary Tudor on the death of King Edward. Northumberland and Guildford were executed, and Robert spent 18 months in the Tower in 1553-54 (when Amy asked the permission of the Privy Council to visit him). They appear to have never had children, no matter how “carnal” they might have been.

Amy’s husband was also a very ambitious man, especially after the downfall of his family. Following the accession of Elizabeth I, an old friend of Robert’s, he spent most of his time at Court and it became clear the two of them were in love. Many people speculated Elizabeth would marry him, “in case his wife should die.” It was also said “she (Amy) had a malady in one of her breasts” in 1559.

Amy managed to come to London and Windsor for Robert’s investiture as a Knight of the Garter in May/June, 1559, with 12 horses and a sumptuous wardrobe provided by her husband, but by 1560 she lived always in the country, at Cumnor Place in Berkshire, looked after by friends of her husband. She continued ordering fine clothes and household fittings, as revealed by the household accounts and her letters of the period.

Her life is much less well-known than her death, which happened at Cumnor Place on Sunday, September 8, 1560, the day of the great fair at the village of Abingdon nearby. Amy gave her permission for all the servants to go, and got angry and insisted when some refused. Her companion, Mrs. Odingsells, refused to go and stayed at the house, along with a Mrs. Owens, the elderly mother of the previous owner, and perhaps a few servants in the kitchen. No one saw what happened, though, and when the others returned from the fair they found Amy lying dead at the foot of the stairs, her neck broken. Her husband was then at Windsor with the Queen, and immediately sent friends to Cumnor to see what was going on. An inquest took place; the verdict was death by accident. Amy was buried in the chancel at St. Mary’s, Oxford, in a lavish funeral. (Her husband did not attend, as was the custom at the time)

Many at Court believed Dudley ordered the murder of his wife in order to marry the Queen. This seems unlikely, as he was not a stupid man and he would have known this would mean a terrible scandal. It was also speculated that perhaps Cecil, who felt his position as secretary and chief advisor to the Queen threatened by Dudley’s ascent, might have orchestrated her death, or at least exploited the rumors that were spreading. In any event, the scandalous death was enough to keep Elizabeth from marrying her “sweet Robin,” though they remained close until his death in 1588.

Another aspect of her death is that “malady in the breast,” probably breast cancer. Recent research has shown that osteoporosis is often a side effect of the illness, which could have caused her neck to break on a fall. It’s also said that she might have committed suicide, because of the pain of her illness or her sadness at the rumors of her husband and the Queen. This would explain her insistence on sending the servants away that day.

As early as 1584 speculative works appeared about the mysterious death, in a libelous pamphlet called Leycesters Commonwealth; a 1608 play called A Yorkshire Tragedy centered around a fall from a staircase and a political scandal. In the 19th century people again became fascinated by Amy’s story thanks to Sir Walter Scott’s novel Kenilworth, which turned her into a tragic heroine (as you might guess from the fact that all the illustrations I could find were sentimental Victorian scenes!). Recently several books have also featured the incident, including Fiona Buckley’s To Shield the Queen, Philippa Gregory’s The Virgin’s Lover, and Judith Saxton’s The Bright Day Is Done: The Story of Amy Robsart. While there are many non-fiction accounts, I like Sarah Gristwood’s 2008 biography Elizabeth and Leicester. I also found a book coming out in 2010 on Amazon.uk called Death and the Virgin: Elizabeth, Dudley, and the Mysterious Fate of Amy Robsart.

So, what do you think happened? I tend to think it was a tragic accident, though it does have several puzzling aspects which have made it fruitful topic for historical speculation. If she had died peacefully in her bed, would Elizabeth have married Leicester? (I think probably not–she wasn’t really the “marrying kind,” and he went on to marry the Queen’s cousin, the very vivid Lettice Knollys and got into trouble for it. But that’s another story…)

My birthday present to you! My bookcover for Gallant Officer, Forbidden Lady coming Dec 2009 from Harlequin Historical. I LOVE this cover

My real Risky Regencies birthday is April 17, because I joined this lovely group on April 17, 2006, but, the Queen doesn’t celebrate her birthday on the anniversary of her birth, so why should I? I choose to celebrate with my other Riskies.

I was so creative. I called my first blog “My First Time by Diane Gaston Perkins” (I was still writing for Warner Forever as Diane Perkins at the time). I talked about why I think the Regency is so popular as a Romance genre. And I sounded reasonably intelligent! Who knew?

Risky Regencies came about when there were still Signet and Zebra Traditional Regencies, but we all knew they would not last. Janet, Amanda, Elena, and Cara were innovating, trying to give the subgenre new life. It was a risk, but that was the reason to name the blog Risky Regencies.

I decided to see what these Riskies chose to write about for their first times.

Janet’s first blog was, as you might expect, extremely witty with creative surprises, telling what was risky about her first book, Dedication.

Megan talks
about her risky Regency, A Singular Lady, in the sassy slightly self-depreciating style we’ve come to love, admitting she made mistakes with titles.

Cara’s first blog was about cards! She talks about the idea that became My Lady Gamester. (I still miss Cara, so I’m including her here!)

Amanda’s first real blog (after a brief one about covers, citing both a movie and fashion, natch) was a cute Jane Austen quiz. We’ve had lots of quizzes since.

Elena does another thing we’ve repeated often–talking about other books and authors we admire. Elena will be blogging on Sept 26. Yay!!!

And finally our newest Risky, Carolyn, who started her time here with a quirky introduction in Regency-speak and her first real blog about The Regency Ottoman Empire. What could be more Risky than that???

Like the Regency genre, we’re still evolving. I love the community we’ve become, and that includes our commenters!

Do you have any Risky Regency blogs you remember? What ones have stuck in your memory?

My prize, awarded at the end of the month, like Janet’s, is a DVD: 1815 The Battle Of Waterloo. It is a documentary released by Kultur.com that I used in writing my Three Soldiers Series (and ordered twice because I forgot I already owned it). If you don’t win you can order your own from Amazon.

My website is updated! And there is a new contest there.
And I’m now on Twitter as well as Facebook.

Follow
Get every new post delivered to your inbox
Join millions of other followers
Powered By WPFruits.com