I Admit It. I’m a Period Drama Junkie!

Posted on May 14, 2014 by Regina Jeffers

Confessions of a Period Drama Addict

My name is Regina, and I am a
Period Drama junkie!

Errol Flynn with Bette Davis in The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex (1939)

Errol Flynn with Bette Davis in The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex (1939)

I admit it: I prefer Period Dramas to all other film genres. Give me men who take pride in their appearances and women who do not, literally, allow it to “all hang out.”

I find as I peruse the many pieces offered each hour and each day on my “fine HD” television, that I can find nothing worth watching. I screen through the many channels (something which used to drive me crazy with my ex-husband, but that is an entirely different post), and I ultimately end up watching a period drama. I go through my cable listing, and then I take a turn with BBC America, Starz, The Movie Channel, Showtime, Sundance, Chiller, Flix, Encore, etc. Today, I watched Great Expectations, Emma, 1918, and Daisy Miller – all of which I have seen multiple times. In addition, I own some 50+ DVDs that could be considered Period Dramas.

220px-Tyrone_Power_in_Marie_Antoinette_trailerI know from where this obsession came. Blame it on my narrow childhood in the 1950s, a time when TV was the latest media phenomena. Not only did we listen to the same music as our parents, but we also actually watched television together. We swooned over the same heroes as our mothers (Tyrone Powers, Jimmy Stewart, Marlon Brando, etc.) and admired the same “manly men” (Clint Eastwood, John Wayne, James Dean, Humphrey Bogart, etc.) as our fathers. I grew up on dramas such as Shogun; The Thornbirds; and Rich Man, Poor Man – on movies such as Von Ryan’s Express, The Adventures of Robin Hood, The Charge of the Light Brigade, Blood and Sand, and Little Women. Be it of a British or Old World or the latest Western, such was the milk of my existence.

Therefore, take a stroll with me down memory lane. I have combined the covers of some of my favorite period dramas in the slideshow below. (There are no Jane Austen covers in this montage.) Tell me which ones were your favorites and maybe add the names of some others to the list by leaving a comment. I will check in regularly to see what you think.

from Little Dorrit

from Little Dorrit

http://pf.kizoa.com/sflite.swf?did=1533944&k=P143187481&hk=1

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William Henry Fox Talbot, British Inventor and Photography Pioneer

Posted on May 13, 2014 by Regina Jeffers

220px-William_Henry_Fox_Talbot,_by_John_Moffat,_1864 William Henry Fox Talbot (11 February 1800 – 17 September 1877) was a British inventor and photography pioneer who invented the calotype process, a precursor to photographic processes of the 19th and 20th centuries. Talbot was also a noted photographer who made major contributions to the development of photography as an artistic medium. His work in the 1840s on photo-mechanical reproduction led to the creation of the photoglyphic engraving process, the precursor to photogravure. Talbot is also remembered as the holder of a patent which, some say, affected the early development of commercial photography in Britain. Additionally, he made some important early photographs of Oxford, Paris, Reading, and York.

Early Life
Talbot was the only child of William Davenport Talbot, of Lacock Abbey, near Chippenham, Wiltshire, and of Lady Elisabeth Fox Strangways, daughter of the 2nd Earl of Ilchester. Talbot was educated at Rottingdean, Harrow School and at Trinity College, Cambridge, where he was awarded the Porson prize in Classics in 1820, and graduated as twelfth wrangler in 1821.

From 1822 to 1872, he communicated papers to the Royal Society, many of them on mathematical subjects. At an early period, he began optical researches, which later bore fruit in connection with photography. To the Edinburgh Journal of Science in 1826 he contributed a paper on “Some Experiments on Coloured Flame”; to the Quarterly Journal of Science in 1827 a paper on “Monochromatic Light”; and to the Philosophical Magazine papers on chemical subjects, including one on “Chemical Changes of Colour.”

Invention of Calotype Process

Latticed window at Lacock Abbey, August 1835. A positive from what may be the oldest camera negative in existence.

Latticed window at Lacock Abbey, August 1835. A positive from what may be the oldest camera negative in existence.

Talbot claimed experiments beginning in early 1834, when Louis Daguerre in 1839 exhibited his pictures taken by the sun. After Daguerre’s discovery was announced, without details, Talbot showed his three-and-a-half-year-old pictures at the Royal Institution on 25 January 1839. Within a fortnight, he communicated the technical details of his photogenic drawing process to the Royal Society; Daguerre revealed details of his process in August.

In 1841, Talbot announced his discovery of the calotype, or talbotype, process. This process reflected the work of many predecessors, most notably John Herschel and Thomas Wedgwood. In August 1841, Talbot licensed Henry Collen, the miniature painter as the first professional calotypist. Talbot’s original contributions included the concept of a negative from which many positive prints can be made (although the terms negative and positive were coined by Herschel), and the use of gallic acid for developing the latent image. In 1842, for his photographic discoveries detailed in his The Pencil of Nature (1844), he received the Rumford Medal of the Royal Society.

Patenting Controversy

London Street, Reading, c. 1845

London Street, Reading, c. 1845

The work on the Daguerre process was taking place at the same time as that of Talbot’s work in England on the calotype process. Daguerre’s agent in England applied for a British patent a matter of days before France, having granted Daguerre a pension, declared his invention “free to the world”. Great Britain therefore became the only country where the payment of license fees was required to use the Daguerre process.

In February 1841, Talbot obtained a patent for the calotype process. At first, he was selling individual patent licences for £20 each, but later he lowered the fee to £4 and waived the payment for those who wished to use the process only as amateurs. Professional photographers, however, had to pay up to £300 annually. In a business climate where many patent holders were attacked for enforcing their rights, Talbot’s behaviour was widely criticised, especially after 1851 when Frederick Scott Archer publicised the collodion process. Talbot declared that anyone using Archer’s process would still be liable to get a license for calotype.

One reason Talbot patented the calotype was that he had spent many thousands of pounds on the development of the calotype process over several years. It is also significant that, although the daguerreotype process was supposed to be free to the world, Daguerre secured a British patent on his own process. Talbot’s negative/positive process eventually succeeded as the basis for almost all 19th and 20th century photography. The daguerreotype was rarely used by photographers after 1860 and had died as a commercial process by 1865.

One person who tried to use the daguerreotype as a method of reproduction without Talbot’s process was Levett Landon Boscawen Ibbetson. But as good as Ibbetson’s attempts were at producing something like a lithograph from the original daguerrotype, the end result could not compete with Talbot’s process. They were simply too expensive. Ibbetson began experimenting with Talbot’s calotype, and in 1842 wrote to Talbot “I have been going on with experiments in the Callotype & have had some very good results as to depth of Colour.” By 1852, Capt. Ibbetson was showing his book using the Talbot calotype process, called “Le Premier Livre Imprimè par le Soleil” at a London Society of Arts exhibition.

The calotype or talbotype (he used these names interchangeably) was Talbot’s improvement of his earlier photogenic drawing process by the use of a different silver salt (silver iodide instead of silver chloride) and a developing agent (gallic acid and silver nitrate) to bring out a latent image on the exposed paper. This reduced the minimum exposure time in the camera from over an hour to only a minute or two. The translucent calotype negative made it possible to produce as many positive prints as desired by simple contact printing; the daguerreotype was an opaque direct positive that could only be reproduced by copying it with a camera. On the other hand, the calotype, despite waxing of the negative to make the image clearer, still was not pin sharp like the metallic daguerreotype, as the paper fibres degraded the image produced.

1853 photo by Talbot

1853 photo by Talbot

The problem was resolved in 1851 (the year of Daguerre’s death) when the wet collodion process enabled glass to be used as a support; the lack of detail often found in calotype negatives was removed, and sharp images, similar in detail to the daguerreotype, were created. The wet collodion negative not only brought about the end of the calotype in commercial use, but also spelled the end of the daguerreotype as a common process for portraiture.

In August 1852, The Times published an open letter by Lord Rosse, the President of the Royal Society, and Charles Lock Eastlake, the president of the Royal Academy, who called on Talbot to relieve his patent pressure that was perceived as stifling the development of photography. In his response, Talbot agreed to waive licensing fees for amateurs, but he continued to pursue professional portrait photographers, having filed several lawsuits.
In 1854, Talbot applied for an extension of the 14-year patent. At that time one of his lawsuits, against a photographer Martin Laroche, was heard by the court. The Talbot v. Laroche case was the pivotal point of the story. Laroche’s side argued that the patent was invalid, as a similar process was invented earlier by Joseph Reade, and that using the collodion process does not infringe the calotype patent anyway, because of significant differences between the two processes. In the verdict, the jury upheld the calotype patent but agreed that Laroche was not infringing upon it by using the collodion process. Disappointed by the outcome, Talbot chose not to extend his patent.

Other Activities
Talbot was active in politics, being a moderate Reformer who generally supported the Whig Ministers. He served as Member of Parliament for Chippenham between 1832 and 1835 when he retired from Parliament. He also held the office of High Sheriff of Wiltshire in 1840.
Whilst engaged in his scientific researches, he devoted much time to archaeology. He published Hermes, or Classical and Antiquarian Researches (1838–39), and Illustrations of the Antiquity of the Book of Genesis (1839). With Sir Henry Rawlinson and Dr Edward Hincks he shares the honour of having been one of the first decipherers of the cuneiform inscriptions of Nineveh. He was also the author of English Etymologies (1846).

In 1843–44, he set up an establishment in Baker Street, Reading, for the purpose of mass-producing salted paper prints from his calotype negatives. The Reading Establishment (as it was known) also produced prints from other calotypist’s negatives and even produced portraits and copy prints at the studio.

He died in Lacock village aged 77 and is buried there along with his wife and children.

Works
Loch Katrine (cir. 1845) Salt print from calotype negative | 8×9 in. Birmingham Museum of Art

Posted in British history, Living in the UK, real life tales, Victorian era | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments

Movie Discussion ~ 1995’s Sense and Sensibility (Part Two)

Posted on May 12, 2014 by Regina Jeffers

colbrandonIn December 1995, Columbia/Mirage Pictures released Sense and Sensibility to U.S. theatres. Based on Emma Thompson’s (who won the 1996 Academy Award for Best Screenplay Based on Material from Another Medium) screenplay, this adaptation goes a long way in creating heroes from what are sometimes seen as bland characters. Last month (March 26), we took our first look at the changes made by Thompson. This month, we shall look at those specifically made for Edward and Colonel Brandon. By changing scenes from the novel to portray more sensitive and caring males, Thompson appeals to modern viewers by recasting the novel’s heroes. Let us begin with the “sculpting” of Edward Ferras.

edwardFirst, Edward displays his paternal side with Margaret, who has just lost her father. In the Norland library, it is Edward who engages Elinor in a lively geography lesson to entice an emotional Margaret from her hiding place under the table. Next, we see Edward sword fighting with Margaret. This is another of Thompson’s fabricated scenes. It is used to demonstrate Edward’s playful nature, his self-effacing personality, and his potential as a loving father. Throughout the next few scenes, Edward makes numerous references to the time he has spent playing pirate with Margaret. His estimation grows before our eyes. We learn to like a man, who indulges children rather than ignoring them.
Sense-and-Sensibility-sense-and-sensibility-16178013-1413-2126Additional dialogue and scenes are added by Thompson in which Edward makes an attempt to express his love and devotion to Elinor. In these created scenes he stumbles over his words when they are together in the barn, in the scene where Lucy is in the room with Elinor, and when Elinor speaks of Brandon’s offer of a living. Edward asks for forgiveness but never explains why Elinor should extend it. His lack of speech actually says more than elongated professions of his love. Edward’s emotional discomposure is easily interpreted by the viewer. However, neither the attempts nor Edward’s unexpressed words are found in the novel. Thompson has created an emotionally sensitive hero.

The atlas from the library scene keeps Edward in the audience’s mind even when he does not make the scheduled appearance at Barton Cottage. Therefore, it is disappointing to the viewer when the book arrives in the mail. However, this device helps Thompson tell the story. Elinor can question Edward’s previous attentions to her, and his absence can make Lucy’s story more believable. Thompson speaks of Edward’s betrayal through Lucy’s display of a handkerchief exactly like the one to which Elinor has attached her hopes. In the novel, Edward never gives Elinor any such gift, even in passing. Like the atlas, the handkerchief is a metonymic device to establish Elinor’s emotional turmoil. Remember that Elinor is supposed to represent “good sense.” Emotions attached to the handkerchief or any other gift are not found in the novel.

Likewise, Thompson allows Alan Rickman’s portrayal of Colonel Brandon to express true emotion. The viewer’s introduction to Brandon displays a man mesmerized by Marianne’s performance on the pianoforte. He loves the music and her voice; therefore, we know instantly he feels passionately about her. In contrast, the novel refers to Brandon as “an absolute old bachelor.” He has spent the evening with the Dashwoods at the Middletons. In fact, the novel says Brandon “heard her without being in raptures.”

Austen’s words are quite different from the scene we know. Add the music scene from the film’s end where Brandon sends Marianne a pianoforte of her own, and we have physical signs of love. Ironically, in the novel, it is Willoughby who shares Marianne’s love of music.

Brandon mimics Willoughby’s pursuit of Marianne. Both men carry Marianne home in the rain. This is a way of transferring Willoughby’s natural, open wildness to Brandon. His tender administrations on Marianne’s behalf makes him a believable substitute for Willoughby. As with Edward, objects keep Brandon in the viewer’s mind: a lawnbowling ball, a knife to cut the reeds, flowers, a book of verse, and a pianoforte.

Willoughby gives wildflowers and Brandon hot house roses; Willoughby quotes Shakespeare, and Brandon reads from Spenser. Willoughby and Brandon are no longer polar opposites.

Brandon says, “For there is nothing lost, but may be found, if sought.” We seek a romantic hero and find him in this portrayal. Like Marianne, we are possessed by an emotionally sensitive man we can honestly love. Austen does not give us the same emotional enhancements. Modern audiences demand the “Cinderella” ending, and, in this film, we lose some of Austen’s cautionary tale of the pitfalls of too much or too little sense and sensibility. Emotional sensitivity becomes a substitute for social restraint. With Brandon’s heroic ride and plea for something to do “or I will run mad,” Thompson eliminates the need for Willoughby’s emotional rehabilitation.

Through the minor characters, we learn the local gossip and the developing drama. This device keeps these characters from “disappearing,” as they did in the novel. Characters who fade into the background on the written page help tell the story in the film. Of the two portrayals, I found Alan Rickman’s the superior one. His subtle manner of displaying Brandon’s feelings for Marianne shows how a mask of reticence can hide one’s true emotions. Hugh Grant’s portrayal, on the other hand, was reminiscent of his 1994′s Four Weddings and a Funeral. He still continued to stammer, but Grant does so with less charm this time around. By the film’s end, I wanted to see the classically awkward and a bit-self absorbed Edward with Marianne, and the passionate, long-suffering, and honorable Brandon with Elinor.Sense-and-Sensibility-1995-sense-and-sensibility-2574503-321-399

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Stylist Choices (or) Why Would Anyone Choose that Word?

Posted on May 9, 2014 by Regina Jeffers

power-of-words1 Recently, I entered an excerpt from my WIP (Work in Progress) in a contest. This is something I do with some degree of regularity, especially if I want an uninterested reader to speak to voice or tension or point of view. Occasionally, one of the anonymous judges makes a comment on word choice. In the contest of which I speak, one particular judge praised my grammatical care, but she/he felt I had missed the mark with my word choices for The Mysterious Death of Mr. Darcy, my last Pride and Prejudice mystery. She felt I had make a genuine effort to sound of Jane Austen, but I had failed in many of my choices. In truth, I have long abandoned the idea of sounding like Austen. “Our Jane” had a unique gift of words few of us could duplicate. I simply use words that may have gone away from current standards. That being said, permit to speak of some of my favorites from the past:

Are you familiar with “armamentarium”? Armamentarium is a collection of resources available or utilized for an undertaking, especially the equipment, methods, and pharmaceuticals used in medicine; in slang, “a bag of tricks” – circa 1860 bagnattricks_1

Have you ever used the word “ineffable”? Ineffable means incapable of being described in words, as in “ineffable joy.” It can also mean something not to be uttered, as in “the ineffable name of Jehovah.” It comes to us from Middle English and its first known use was during the 14th Century.

Did you know that “expectorate” is a euphemism for spit, dating to 1827? Literally, the word means to eject from the throat or lungs by coughing or hawking or spitting. Online dictionaries give the first known use as 1601.

Can you use the word “comport” in a sentence? Most Regency era based writers would use the word to behave in a manner comfortable to what is proper or expected, as in “Lord Townsend comported himself well in the matter.” However, there is also the idea of comport to mean “to be fitting,” as in “Equivocation ill comports with a true act of conscience.” Comport likely comes from Middle French, with its first known use in 1589. the-power-of-words

In modern times we think of “conceit” means excessive appreciation of one’s own worth or virtue, but conceit was one used for a fanciful idea, an elaborate or strained metaphor (especially as used in poetry), or a fancy phrase or expression, as in describing a crowd as a “vast sea of humanity swaying to the music.” The word comes to use from Middle English via the Anglo-French “conceivre.” Its first known use was in the 14th Century.

Have you ever used “illume” instead of “illuminate”? Illume was once used to mean to edify, enlighten, inspire or nurture, as in “A hundred candles illumed the church’s interior.” It likely came to us in the early 1600s.

Have you ever used “presage”? Presage is something that portends or foreshadows the future, as in “A robin a presage of the return of spring.” Its first known use was in the 14th Century.

A like word is “prescient.” What do you know of “prescient”? Prescient is foreknowledge of events, either by divine omniscience or by human anticipation of the course of events (foresight), as in “His novel is a prescient look at the future.” It’s is another word from Middle English.

From the Greek word “hybris,” we find a fancy word for “arrogance.” Hubris came into use in the 1880s. It means “exaggerated pride or self-confidence.”

Although it’s one I have not used in some time, I would suggest another favorite: “cynosure.” Cynosure can mean one who directs or guides; a center of attraction or attention (as in, He turned the slums into a cynosure.); a person or thing that attracts lots of attention or interest. If the word is capitalized, it indicates the northern constellation Ursa Minor or Polaris (the North Star). Despite being slightly obsolete, I find it a highly literary word. Its first known use was in 1565.

Surely, many of you have used “modicum” previously. Modicum is a small portion or a limited quantity, as in a “modicum of skill.” It comes to us from Middle English via the Latin word “modicus.” Its first known use is during the 15th Century.

I would imagine many of you have come across “forthwith,” which is an obsolete means to say “immediately,” but have you ever used “forgather”? Forgather means “to assemble or come together.” It also means “to meet someone, usually by chance.” Its first known use was in 1513.

DP221643Finally, for today, what of the word “chef-d’oeuvre”? Chef-d’oeuvre is a “masterpiece, especially in art or literature.” It comes to us from the French, literally meaning, leading work. Its first known use was in 1619. One thing English writers might consider when using chef-d’oeuvre is its plural: chefs-d’oeuvre, not chef-d’oeuvres.

Do you have favorites we might add to follow up posts? Add your suggestions below.

(Meanings used come from Merriam-Webster.com/dictionary/.)

Posted in language choices, Uncategorized, word play | Tagged , , | 5 Comments

Movie Discussion – 1995’s Persuasion

Posted on May 8, 2014 by Regina Jeffers

Persuasion 1995 – Movie Discussion


by Regina Jeffers

In describing Persuasionin his script’s introduction, Nick Dear said, “The story essentially describes an old order fading away into decadence, and a new tribe, a meritocracy, coming to the fore.” Persuasionhas seen four renderings. The first was presented on four consecutive weeks from December 30, 1960, to January 20, 1961. 

Daphne Slater, who incidentally portrayed Elizabeth Bennet in 1952′s Pride and Prejudice, played Anne Elliot, while Paul Daneman took on the role of Frederick Wentworth. ITV presented the second adaptation in five parts from April 18 to May 16, 1971. This adaptation starred Ann Firbank and Bryan Marshall in the main roles. In April 1995, BBC-2 presented the third rendering. This one was later released to theatres. It brought us Amanda Root and Ciarán Hinds. In 2007, Rupert Penry Jones and Sally Hawkins took on the parts of Anne and Wentworth. As cinematic adaptations of Jane Austen’s novels go, the 1995 version of Persuasionhas kept its critics at bay. For me, it is by far the superior film. In 2009, when I wrote Captain Wentworth’s Persuasion, it was Amanda Root and Ciarán Hinds that I saw in my mind’s eye as the book’s characters.

So, these are a hodge podge of my ramblings on this particular film adaptation. I would love to hear your own thoughts on this one, as well as any comments on the other versions of Persuasion. This is, after all, a movie discussion.
  • In the 1971 version, Ann Firbank is always perfectly dressed, but Nick Dear wanted Root’s portrayal to show Anne’s movement from “dowdy” to “blossoming.” It amazes me that some wanted a more more glamorous actress to play Anne. At the time (and even now), I thought Amanda Root the perfect choice.
  • Anne is portrayed as a “servant,” creating sympathy for her character. At Uppercross, she picks up toys and tends to the injured Little Charles. At Kellynch Hall, it is Anne who holds the keys to the house, very much as a housekeeper might. She catalogues the house’s belongings.
  • Roger Michell uses several close ups of Anne, but they often off center. This makes the viewer see her as out of sync with her family.
  • We never see Sir Walter in a natural setting, whereas Wentworth and Croft are.
  • There is a sharp contrast between the sterile Kellynch Hall and the welcoming “home” of the Musgroves.
  • Nick Dear creates a “caustic” Elizabeth Elliot, as she sprawls on her chair, laughs too loudly, and talks with her mouth full. This is one area that is often criticized in the film. This Elizabeth Elliot is less “ladylike” than the one presented by Austen.
  • When Anne travels to Uppercross, she is deglamorized by riding with a pig and a goose in the open cart.
  • Like we noted previously with Colin Firth’s character, Root is often shown staring out windows, essentially distancing herself from the others. She is preoccupied and uncomfortable.
  • The scene where creditors crowd around Mr. Shepherd creates a sense of chaos. This is achieved through hand held tracking shots and a swish pan. Usually movement indicates strength and vitality, but not in this case.
  • Besides establishing the historical context of the film, the “invented” opening sequence with Admiral Croft and the sailors rowing in unison is a powerful contrast to the indolence shown by Sir Walter at Kellynch Hall.
  • The characters remain seated at Kellynch. There is no movement. It is a “dying” culture.
  • We see the same “staleness” in the Elliots’ Bath residence. Hand held tracking shots show them lounging on chaises longues.
  • Nick Dear describes the scene where Anne, dressed in white and sitting among the sheet-covered furniture at Kellynch, as a “shroud for a dead house.”
  • In the Kellynch dining room, the vast, over-decorated table dwarfs the Elliots.
  • The ship’s ward room is small, dark, and smoky, and it is filled with action-filled officers. A single, tight circling shot relays the cohesiveness of the group. This is in contrast to the previous dining room scene. The ward room’s table is covered with various hats all tossed together, indicating the group’s solidarity. Sir Walter’s table holds the iced-swan sculpture.
  • A lack of real substance is shown in Lady Dalrymple’s caked on makeup and the use of backlighting.
  • Only a “letter folded up into a paper boat” and concealed inside a copy of “the Navy List, 1806″ elicits any emotional response from Anne while she is at Kellynch.
  • The sun lights Anne’s face for the first time when she arrives at Uppercross.
  • The swiftly moving paper boats are bringing Anne to her future. These boats are made for the children by Admiral Croft, a direct connection to Wenworth.
  • The high angle swish pan shot of Wentworth’s desperate attempt to catch Louisa indicates his being out of step on land.
  • Wentworth is separated from Anne by a table and three seated figures when she looks out the window for Mr. Elliot. There is a “gulf” between them.
  • Nick Dear’s Anne is more assertive than the one in Austen’s novels. This plays to the more modern female viewer. She chases Wentworth from the concert room, sharply answers her father’s criticsm of Mrs. Smith, blocks Wentworth’s path in the Octagon Room, snipes at both Lady Russell and Wentworth when they question her marrying Mr. Elliot, and accepts Wentworth’s kiss on the the crowded street.
  • We have a shot of Anne looking backwards at Kellynch. This leads to a lengthy pan shot bringing Uppercross into view. Austen does not give us the feeling of Kellynch being the past. This scene does.
  • The camera shot of Anne’s face at Uppercross Cottage shows her pensiveness. We see her only in the cloudy mirror. This indicates her isolation.
  • To show her leanness and her desperation, Anne is seen early on in loose-fitting dresses and large cloaks. In Bath, Anne wears form-fitting pelisses and spencers.
  • In the 1971 version, Bryan Marshall wears Regency civilian wear, but Ciarán Hinds portrays the rugged, self-made man in his naval attire.
  • William Elliot’s character is more villainous than the Austen version.
  • This adaptation uses pieces of both of Austen’s endings for the novel. 
  • The kissing scene is sometimes criticized, but it summarizes a chapter of reflection from Austen’s novel. It shows the “lovers” making their own way in life. Their hands are clasped. (BTW, in the 1971 version, Anne and Wentworth kiss twice, but it is indoors.)
  • The final scene was filmed at Portsmouth on the HMS Victory.
  • The last shot of a ship silhouetted against a sunset is actually taken from the 1984 film, The Bounty.
Posted in film, Jane Austen, Uncategorized | Tagged , , | 8 Comments

Do You Remember? The Fertile Ground of “Heartache” and An Artificial Heart Implant

Posted on May 7, 2014 by Regina Jeffers
Dr. Christiaan Barnard

Dr. Christiaan Barnard

In 1969, 47-year-old Haskell Karp received an artificial heart after Dr. Denton Cooley of the Texas Heart Institute in Houston determined Karp’s damaged heart could no longer pump the life saving blood through Karp’s veins. For 64 hours, this mechanical heart, developed by two of Cooley’s associates, Drs. Domingo Liotta and C. William Hall, kept Karp alive until a donor heart could be transplanted into Karp’s chest.

Dr. Cooley

Dr. Cooley

One must remember that heart transplants had only been possible for less than two years. Dr. Christiaan Barnard of Capetown, South Africa, had performed the first one some 16 months prior. Unfortunately, Karp died of complications of pneumonia two days after the transplant, but an artificial heart had made medical history.

The History of ‘Artificial Hearts’

In 1934, Dr. Michael DeBakey designed a “roller pump” that used two rollers to pump the blood for transfusions. In 1953, Dr. John H. Gibbon used a heart-lung machine, successfully correcting an intracardiac defect. This machine was a major step in such operations for the decades that followed.  In the 1970s, Dr. Robert Jarvik designed a series of artificial hearts at the University of Utah, to which Dr. Barney Clark, a Seattle dentist, came in 1982.

Clark’s heart muscles were pumping only to a 20% efficiency when he arrived in Utah. In addition to his heart, Clark had problems with his lungs, his legs, and his abdomen. He was termed “moribund.” Clark had learned all he could of the Jarvik hearts being produced by Dr. Jarvik.

Clark and the Jarvik-7 Heart

Clark and the Jarvik-7 Heart

On 1 December 1982, Clark underwent the replacement surgery, and the Jarvik-7 was implanted into Clark’s chest. Using compressed air to drive the mechanism, the pump filled itself with blood from Clark’s veins and emptied the fluid into the arteries via the four artificial heart valves. Tethered to the machine, Clark tolerated pneumothorax, severe nosebleeds, kidney failure, and seizures, and after 16 weeks, he lost his battles. However, throughout the ordeal, Clark professed his “pleasure in being able to help people.”

By 1985, DeVries had performed the procedure on three other patients. The first two, William Schroeder and Murray Haydon, each survived for over a year, although they too suffered some of the same type of complications as had Clark. The fourth candidate died after only 10 days, the result of the Jarvik heart being too large for his chest cavity.

Posted in Do You Remember?, medicine, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

If the Shoe Fits… a Guest Post from Best-Selling Author, Lucinda Brant

Posted on May 6, 2014 by Regina Jeffers

Lucinda-Brant-Author-Photo-float.png.opt165x233o0,0s165x233Today I welcome LUCINDA BRANT, a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of Georgian historical romances and mysteries. Her novels have been described as from ‘the Golden Age of romance with a modern voice’ and ‘heart wrenching drama with a happily ever after.’

ARE THEY FOR YOU?
If you love BBC Classic Drama, Jane Austen, Georgette Heyer, 18th Century history, or romances with plenty of wit and adventure then dive right in! You’ll find a world of determined heroines and heroes, an eccentric character or two, and a weave of subplots to keep things interesting.

‘Quizzing glass and quill, into my sedan chair and away! The 1700s rock!’– Lucinda Brant

Ms. Brant has agreed to take us back to an important fashion statement of the Georgian Period: the shoe. We women love shoes. We purchase them even when we do not require a new pair.

If the Shoe fits… But does it? The Shoe—a most trivial subject for study in the 18th Century.

Is there anyone who doesn’t love shoes? I do, especially shoes as an art form, and as an historical artifact because they define a particular era. I can appreciate the fashionable high- heeled shoe, though I have never worn one, and love shoes with exaggerated pointed toes, despite a pair cutting off the circulation to my big toe. I also own a pair of Dr. Martens boots with their heavy rubber sole and flowered canvas tops. They were too tight across the bridge of my foot and took weeks and weeks of “wearing-in” before they were anywhere near comfortable. But I still wore them until they were “worn in,” regardless my eyes watered every time, and I had blisters.

We all do it, men as well as women—often wear shoes that are not healthy for our feet, and all because the shoe looks good, or are the latest fashion, or we want our Size 10s to look smaller than they are. At least today there are alternatives, varieties of shapes and sizes, materials and widths. Healthy feet are an aspiration if not an outcome.

Doc Martens

Doc Martens

The shoes I love most are the high heeled shoes of the 18th Century, introduced by the vertically challenged Louis XIV, who ordained his courtiers, both male and female, wear heels at Versailles. High-heeled metrosexual shoes worn by the 18th century aristocracy, both in France and England, were unobtainable and exotic for the vast majority of the population. Extreme in form and in materials, they were high, pointed and made from leather, silk, damask, wool, etc., embroidered with silver and gold thread, with a two inch heel or higher that sat forward of the heel.

women's-high-heeled-shoes-176070 copy
They were completed with a shoe buckle covered in diamonds, or paste thereof, that offered evidence of the societal position and wealth of the wearer.

But how much thought if any did the Georgian wearer, rich or poor, give to the health of his or her feet in relation to the shoes they were wearing? What discussion, if any, was there about the construction of a shoe in relation to the anatomy of the foot? The answer may surprise you; it did me!

These questions and more about shoes cropped up while I was researching disability in the eighteenth century for my latest novel. I came across a most fascinating little treatise entitled On the Best Form of Shoe, by a remarkable man Petrus Camper (1722-1789) Professor of Medicine, Surgery, and Anatomy, at Amsterdam and Groningen.

On the Best Form of Shoe originated from a jest. Camper wished to prove to his anatomy students that any subject, however trivial, might become interesting if discussed by someone who was knowledgeable of both causes and results. Whether it was Camper or one of his students who gave him his subject matter, the shoe was decided upon as the most trifling of subjects for study. But what Camper discovered from his in-depth research led to some surprising conclusions, some of which are still relevant today.

Camper’s first observation was that while there was much research and debate through the ages on the feet of horses, mules, and oxen and what constituted an appropriate shoe for a beast of burden, humans had almost entirely neglected their own species when it came to knowing anything about the human foot. And while a farrier might know intimately the hoof of a horse, how to care for it and how to correctly place a shoe upon it, a cordwainer (shoemaker) made shoes in ignorance of the anatomy of his own feet.
Shoes were not made for the foot; shoes were made for what Camper described as “the absurdities of fashion and the depraved tastes of the day.” Sound familiar?

Dowie-and-Camper copyJames Dowie, a practical and scientific Scottish cordwainer of the Victorian era, included an English translation of Camper’s treatise on shoes in his own publication The Foot and its Covering, 1861, supporting Camper’s observations of a hundred years earlier—that cordwainers knew so little about their own feet, and nothing about the anatomy of the foot. Dowie was amazed that this was still the case in late Victorian Britain and was forward thinking enough to send the 26 cordwainers in his employ along to a lecture on the anatomy of the foot at the Surgeons Hall in Edinburgh; all came away with a dawning revelation that shoes should be made to fit the foot. Wow! Mind blowing stuff!

Twenty years later, in 1884, Ada Kemply observed in her piece for Popular Science “Fashion and Deformity in the Feet,” that shoes were primarily made to satisfy fashion and with no thought as to the consequences of such fashionable styles on the feet, and that this led to widespread deformities. Kemply concluded that “One cannot treat the deformities of the feet without considering the nature of their covering” and that boots and shoes “cramp, distort, and disable” feet.

But I digress! Let us return to the Eighteenth Century and Professor Camper’s findings on such a “trifling” subject as the shoe…

Camper used the term “victims of fashion” to describe persons wearing a particular shoe form, not for comfort, but because it was the fashionable thing to do. He voiced the hope that enlightened parents would avoid inflicting “torture” (his word) on their children by allowing them to wear shoes that fit their foot for comfort, and he praised those forward-thinking parents who allowed their children to go barefoot in the house, thus allowing their growing feet to form naturally.

You can imagine Camper shaking his head at so called enlightened European society who bestowed compassion on the fate of Chinese women who had their feet dislocated and wholly misshapen by the tradition of foot binding, and who call this practice barbarous, and yet they condemned themselves to a lifetime of discomfort by squeezing into shoes with shapes and sizes wholly inappropriate for their feet.

Upper class women, Camper concluded, were “misled by ridiculous vanity” when it came to shoes, and “cram their feet into smaller than required sized shoes that are tight fitting with high and slender heels” because the fashion is for small feet in high heels. Such shoes “affect walking and constrain the body to walk in unnatural attitudes.” The wealthy, Camper observed, “walk on their toes only” and cannot walk with ease, except on a carpet or smooth pavement. Adding that, “The higher the heels, the greater will be the distortion [to the foot]…and the higher the heel and the smaller the sole, the greater becomes the risk of falls and sprains.”

Zapatos-Naples 1730

Zapatos-Naples 1730

Riello in his Ph.D. thesis concurs, saying that in 18th Century France, as in England, the young and fashionable in particular were of the opinion that unless their boots and shoes fit very tight and exact, they were “not proper for any genteel person to wear,” and that the skills of the cordwainer were measured in relation to “his ability to produce shoes that make the feet appear particularly small,” which was the fashion for women of the 1700s.

low-heeled-pointy-1790 copyCamper considered the poor wiser than their social superiors when it came to appropriate footwear. Not dictated to by the whims of fashion, the poor wore sturdy shoes with a low heel that allowed for a firm gait and the ability to walk with ease. However, the stiffened leather, and the fact shoes were made on identical lasts (the template of the foot for shoemaking purposes), meant that many of the poor, too, suffered foot problems such as corns and blisters.

To counter the problems arising from ill-fitting shoes, Camper recommended all shoes be made using a right and left last. A recommendation that today is patently obvious, as both feet are shaped differently. Although there is evidence of shoes being made in pairs specifically for the right and left foot in earlier centuries, cordwainers during the 1700s used identical lasts for both feet. Needing only one last was much more economical, and it was assumed that with wear, the shoe would mold to the wearer’s foot. Yet, in many cases this did not happen, either due to the stiffness of the leather or because it only occurred near the end of the shoe’s usefulness, and by then the health of the feet had deteriorated, sometimes beyond repair.

Everyday Shoes for Males

Everyday Shoes for Males

Camper’s treatise included a chapter on club feet and through his scientific observations and findings concluded that such a deformity was unlikely to be corrected by the use of the wooden and steel contraptions of correction available at that time; footwear, like those for the normal foot, should be made specific to the shape of the foot itself.

Professor Camper’s findings were so remarkable for the time that On the Best Form of Shoe was translated from the Dutch almost at once and often, and into several European languages. As stated previously, it was considered worthy of reprint up to as late as 1861, being included in Dowie’s publication The Foot and its Covering.

Shoes of a Cherry Seller

Shoes of a Cherry Seller

Even today, Professor Camper’s scientific study of the shoe makes interesting reading, and much of what he says on the reason particular shoes are worn, not for comfort, but because it is the fashionable thing to do, and the unhealthy consequences on our feet that arise from such choices, can easily be applied to us. 

Hands up all those who wear a particular shoe because it is fashionable. Hands up all those who wear high heels. We are fashion victims one and all, so says Professor Camper.

 

Meet Lucinda Brant: 

Lucinda Brant is a New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of GeorgiaDair-Devil-smll copyn historical romances and mysteries. Her latest Georgian historical romance, DAIR DEVIL, Book four in the Roxton Family Saga series, is now available at all eRetailers.

Book Blurb:

Opposites attract.
Appearances can deceive.
A dashing and rugged façade hides the vulnerable man within.
He will gamble with his life, but never his heart.
Always the observer, never the observed, her fragility hides conviction. She will risk everything for love.
One fateful night they collide.
The attraction is immediate, the consequences profound…

London and Hampshire, 1777: The story of Alisdair ‘Dair’ Fitzstuart–nobleman, ex-soldier, and rogue, and Aurora ‘Rory’ Talbot–spinster, pineapple fancier, and granddaughter of England’s Spymaster General, and how they fall in love.

Nook

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To jump into the 18th Century (there’s a whole board on fabulous shoes!), follow Lucinda on Pinterest.
For more about Lucinda and her books visit her website.

References
**James Dowie, The Foot and its Covering, with Dr. Camper’s Work “On the Best Form of Shoe”, Robert Hardwicke, Piccadilly London, 1861
**Ada H. Keply, “Fashion and Deformity in the Feet,” Popular Science, March 1884. http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Popular_Science_Monthly/Volume_24/March_1884/ Fashion_and_Deformity_in_the_Feet
**Giorgio Riello, The Boot and Shoe Trades in London and Paris in the Long Eighteenth Century, PhD thesis, University College London, 2002.

Images (Attached but also shown here for ease of referencing the description)

Lucinda Brant’s Dr. Martens 

James Dowie’s The Foot and its Covering, with Dr. Camper’s Work “On the Best Form of Shoe”

Sturdy shoes of a street cherry seller, detail Paul Sandby 1759

Sturdy shoes of the ordinary pedestrian, Paul Sandby (1731-1809) http://siftingthepast.com/

Zapatos—High heeled shoes, Naples,1730. http://www.pinterest.com/pin/278589926920765703/

Pair of women’s high heeled shoes (buckle missing), European, 1760–1770s, MFA, Boston http://www.pinterest.com/pin/278589926923956179/

Low heeled but particularly pointy slippers, c.1790, British, silk. http://www.pinterest.com/pin/ 278589926922824266/

Posted in British history, customs and tradiitons, fashion, Georgian Era, Great Britain, Living in the UK, royalty | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 9 Comments

British Thoroughbred Racing History

Posted on May 5, 2014 by Regina Jeffers

With the onset of the Triple Crown in America, I thought we might take a look at the British thoroughbred racing history. I have used “horses” and “racing” several times as part of story lines, most recently in the novellas “His American Heartsong” from His: Two Regency Novellas. 

a modern Arabian

a modern Arabian

One of the more challenging aspects of writing historical romance is the amount of research one must do. It is not uncommon to spend 8 hours researching a fact that in less than a paragraph in the book. However, one must do it. Recently, I added the element of thoroughbred racing to a novella I was writing. I have always said that if I hit the lottery, I was going to move to KY and raise thoroughbreds. So, finding out about thoroughbreds was time consuming but oh, so exciting. Did you know that the origins of modern racing go back to the Crusades. Between the 12th and 16th centuries, Arab stallions were imported into England and mated with English mares to breed in speed and endurance.

Professional horse racing sprang to life in the reign of Queen Anne (1702-1714). By 1750, racing’s elite formed the Jockey Club at Newmarket. The Jockey Club still exercises complete control of English racing.

Since 1814, five races for 3-year-olds have been designated as “Classics”: The English Triple Crown, which includes the Epsom Derby, the 2000 Guineas, and the St. Leger Stakes, is open to both male and female horses. The Epsom Oaks and the 1000 Guineas is only for fillies.

Volume 6 of the General Stud Book, published in London in 1857

Volume 6 of the General Stud Book, published in London in 1857

Besides writing rules for racing, the Jockey Club designed steps to regulate horse breeding. James Weatherby traced the complete family history (pedigree) of every horse racing in England. In 1791, The Introduction to the General Stud Book was published. By the early 1800s only horses descended from those listed in the General Stud book could be called “thoroughbreds.”

Now this is the amazing fact!!! Thoroughbreds are so inbred that the pedigree of every single horse can be traced back to to one of three stallions, which are referred to as the “foundation sires.” These stallions are Byerley Turk (foaled c.1679); the Darley Arabian (foaled c.1700), and Godolphin Arabian (foaled c. 1724).

The three founding fathers of the turf

Following the family tree of the Godolphin Arabian, the Byerley Turk and the Darley Arabian is rather like compiling a ‘who’s who’ of racing champions!

The Godolphin Arabian

**Foaled about 1724
**Probably exported from Yemen via Syria to the stud of the Bey of Tunis
**Initially given to Louis XV of France in 1730, he was then imported to Britain
**Sired the best racehorse of the day, called Lath
**The Godolphin Arabian’s line hasn’t won the Derby since Santa Claus in 1964, and has recently been overshadowed by the Darley Arabian’s descendants

The Byerley Turk, one of the progenitors of the Thoroughbred breed, may have been a Turkoman horse.

The Byerley Turk, one of the progenitors of the Thoroughbred breed, may have been a Turkoman horse.

The Byerley Turk, one of the progenitors of the Thoroughbred breed, may have been a Turkoman horse.

The Byerley Turk

**Foaled about 1680
**His line includes Herod, foaled in 1758, who was leading sire eight times
**Descendent Highflyer and his sons were champion stallions 23 times in 25 years
**The Byerley Turk’s line now has much less influence than that of the Darley Arabian.

 
The Darley Arabian

**Foaled about 1700

**Amongst others, he sired Bartlett’s Childers whose great grandson was Eclipse

**Over 80% of modern racehorses can trace their descent to Eclipse, including the great Canadian stallion Northern Dancer.
The golden story of Eclipse

A descendent of the Darley Arabian, Eclipse was foaled in 1764, the year of the great eclipse of the sun. He won 18 races, never appearing the least bit stretched. Owners were reluctant to put their horses up against him and eight of his races were declared walkovers!

Eclipse retired to stud in 1771 and sired three Derby winners but his ability to sire offspring that were well adapted to the new shorter races for two and three year olds ensured him a place in the racing history books.

However, due to terrific competition from Herod and the Byerley Turk line, Eclipse was never actually declared champion.

After his death, Eclipse was dissected to try to work out the secret of his success – it was decided that his huge heart pumped blood around the body more effectively, while his back legs gave plenty of leverage. Powerful lungs completed the winning combination. His skeleton is still owned by the Royal Veterinary College and can be seen at the National Horseracing Museum in Newmarket.

Posted in British history, Great Britain, Living in the UK, real life tales | Tagged , , | 5 Comments

Maria Kinnaird, Mid-Victorian Socialite and Hostess

Posted on May 2, 2014 by Regina Jeffers

Maria Kinnaird (1810–1891) was born on St. Vincent, but was orphaned by a volcanic eruption and she was adopted by the politician “Conversation Sharp.” (See my March 29 post on Sharp.) Sharp was once considered possibly to be the most popular man in London of his time, and she inherited through him not only a considerable fortune but a wide network of influential friends and contacts, particularly among Whig circles. She became a prominent socialite and leading hostess in London during the mid-Victorian period, being described as an accomplished, attractive, and intelligent woman. In 1835 she married Thomas Drummond, who developed the use of Drummond Light in surveying, and it is said gave him important support during his final years when he was held in high regard as Under-Secretary for Ireland (1835–40).

Thomas Drummond

Thomas Drummond

Biography
Maria Kinnaird was the adopted child of the politician Richard Sharp. Sharp never married, but in about 1812 Maria was orphaned following a catastrophic volcano eruption on the West Indian island of St Vincent where her parents are said to have been planters. The circumstances are unclear, but it became the joint decision of Richard, his brother William, and William’s wife, Anna, that they should bring Maria to their Park Lane home and legally adopt her. By this time, Richard “Conversation” Sharp was a distinguished and wealthy London character, and Maria was given every advantage, educationally, socially and culturally to take her place in society. Sharp moved in the highest Whig circles, and Maria came to know many of the best artists, musicians, politicians and socialites of the time. When her adoptive father died, she moved into a house in Hyde Park Gardens while maintaining the family retreat, Fredley, in Mickleham, Surrey.

As a teenager Maria became very friendly with Dora Wordsworth, a friendship that lasted until Dora’s death and some of their correspondence still exists. Maria is said to have possessed an exceptional singing voice, of which William Wordsworth was particularly enamoured. Among her many friends were Sydney Smith, the artist J.M.W. Turner, John Russell, 1st Earl Russell, Professor Wheatstone, George Meredith, Charles Babbage, Michael Faraday, Austen Henry Layard, Henry Petty-Fitzmaurice, 4th Marquess of Lansdowne, Henry Hart Milman, Richard Westmacott, Sir George Trevelyan, 2nd Baronet, Sir Charles Barry, Archbishop Richard Whately, Edward Bulwer-Lytton, 1st Baron Lytton and Farrer Herschell, 1st Baron Herschell. All of these distinguished men, and many others, were entertained by Mrs Drummond at Hyde Park Gardens and at Fredley between the years 1843 and 1891. For further references to her social circle see ‘Lord Byron and his Times.’ and ‘The Letters of Matthew Arnold.’

At one time there were rumours that Maria would marry the historian Thomas Macaulay, and the son of Samuel Romilly was also thought to have been infatuated with her, but in the end she married Thomas Drummond at Weston House the impressive home of Sir George Philips, 1st Baronet. She became her husband’s mainstay during a particularly stressful period – leading to his death – when he successfully acted as under-Secretary for Ireland (1835-1840).

Maria and Thomas had three daughters, Fanny, Mary (who became the wife of Joseph Kay) and Emily. In her declining years, it is said that Robert Browning frequently visited Maria at Fredley to read her some of his and his wife’s poetry.

Maria Drummond died in 1891, and she is buried in Mickleham churchyard. She left an important self-portrait of Sir Joshua Reynolds to her daughter, Emily Drummond, who eventually gave it to the National Gallery in London. The painting had originally been purchased by her adoptive father, Richard Sharp, from Hester Thrale for just over £128 in 1816.

Her fascinating biography, Maria Drummond – A Sketch was written by the author/publisher, Charles Kegan Paul at the request of two of her daughters.

Maria Jane Kinnaird

Posted in British history, political stance, real life tales, Victorian era | Tagged , , | 3 Comments

The Wonderful World of the English Language – Americanisms

Posted on May 1, 2014 by Regina Jeffers

The Wonderful World of the English Language – Part Three

from cam.ac.uk

from cam.ac.uk

People have certainly responded well to the previous two posts regarding how words and phrases have come into the English language. These are some of my favorite Americanisms.

To Play Possum
Some three centuries prior, American hunters discovered the opossum’s ability to literally play dead. When confronted, an opossum will lie with its eyes closed and its limbs limp and unresponsive. Only when the animal is tossed in water will it become active again.

The Whole Kit and Caboodle
The phrase comes to us from “the whole kit and bilin’.” It means to omit nothing. “The whole kit” means the whole lot (either inanimate objects or people). “Bilin’” comes to us from “boiling,” meaning a seething mess, especially of persons. Americans transformed the original phrase into “the whole kit and boodle.” The word “boodle” comes from the Dutch word boedel, meaning property and goods. One thing we find in many Americanisms is the use of alliteration. Therefore, “boodle” was given the “k” sound to match with “kit.” We have “the whole kit and caboodle.” (By the way, “boodle” was later used to mean money gotten from ill ways…by graft or bribery.)

On Easy Street
This American phrase comes from the late 18th or early 19th Century. The Dictionary of American English gives credit to George V. Hobart’s 1902’s It’s Up to You. The line describes a young man “who could walk up and down Easy Street.”

Bats in One’s Belfry
This phrase was coined in the early 20th Century. In 1899, William J. Kountz’s Billy Baxter’s Letters describes a scene from an opera: “The band cut loose something fierce. The leader tore out about $9.00 worth of hair, and acted generally as though he had bats in his belfry. I thought sure the place would be pinched.” Kountz claims the book contains “up-to-date slang.” In Elbert Hubbard’s Little Journeys to the Homes of Eminent Painters, Hubbard quotes painter James Whistler dismissing French artist Gustave Doré by saying, “Doré – Gustave Doré – an artist? Why, the name sounds familiar! Oh, yes, an illustrator. Ah, now I understand; but there is a difference between an artist and an illustrator, you know, my boy. Doré – yes, I knew him – he had bats in his belfry.” English Language and Usage says “This reference is interesting because Hubbard later refers to the phrase as a joke and a bon mot. It’s possible that the joke part is in reference to the bat-like wings of devils portrayed in many of Doré’s works.” In late 1899, a third reference refers back to Hubbard. In The Child Study Monthly, it said, “A parent or teacher who would do this is to our mind ‘born a button short’ or, to use a term from the expressive vernacular of the streets, but dignified by that noble and intensely human literary Philistine, Fra Elbertus, such a person has ‘bats in his belfry’ which, being interpreted, meaneth ‘rats in his garret’ or ‘wheels in his head.’”

To Be in the Hole
This has something to do with a game of poker, but it is not what you might original think. In this phrase we are speaking of a slot cut in the table’s middle. Underneath the table is an attached locked box. John P. Quinn describes the practice of the gambling hall taking a percentage of each pot/hand. In Quinn’s 1892’s Fools of Fortune, he says, “a pair of aces and another pair, and you must go to the hole with a check.”

Lock, Stock, and Barrel
The first literary reference to this phrase comes to us from T. C. Haliburton’s “Sam Slick” stories. Haliburton was a politician, judge, and author in the British Colony of Nova Scotia. He was the first international best-selling author from what is now Canada. He rose to international fame with his Clockmaker serial, which first appeared in the Novascotian and was later published in book form throughout the British Empire. The books recounted the humorous adventures of the character Sam Slick and became popular light reading. The three parts of a gun are named in the phrase = the whole thing. As a point of note, we find The Haliburton Society, still active at King’s College, Halifax, the longest-standing collegial literary society in the Commonwealth of Nations or North America. In addition to “lock, stock, and barrel,” Haliburton is also credited with saying he had enjoyed “playing hurley on the ice,” which is the first know reference to hockey in Canada and is the basis of Windsor, Nova Scotia’s claim to being the town that fathered hockey (as Haliburton was born in Windsor).

I’m from Missouri (Show Me)
Williard D. Vandiver was a representative to Congress from Missouri. According to the Washington Post, at an impromptu address before the Five O’Clock Club of Philadelphia on 31 May 1932, Vandiver defended his home state against a speaker who had portrayed Iowa as the superior state. Vandiver said, “I come from a country that raises corn, cotton, cockleburs, and Democrats. I’m from Missouri, and you’ve got to show me.” Vandiver’s constitutes liked the image the Congressman created of shrewdness. Soon Missouri became known as the “Show Me” State.

None of One’s Funeral
We first find this phrase in print in the Oregon Weekly Times in 1854. “A boy said to an outsider who was making a great ado during some impressive mortuary ceremonies, ‘What are you crying about? It’s none of your funeral.’” Needless to say, the youth likely repeated a phrase he had heard many times, rather than coining a new phrase. The phrase is likely to have traveled from the West to the eastern part of the U.S. It was even heard on the floor of Congress. According to the Bite Size of Amazing Facts, the 49ers and others likely carried the phrase to the East. The phrase was used on the floor of Congress to mean, “to pull wires (or strings). A wirepuller, these days, is one who uses political influence or the like to gain or to win an advantage…. But the original wirepuller was the artist in a marionette show who manipulated the strings or wires that moved the limbs of the puppets.” How the phrase has morphed into a meaning so diverse from the original is hard to say. http://www.bigsiteofamazingfacts.com/what-does-the-phrase-none-of-ones-funeral-mean-and-where-does-it-come-from/

Porterhouse Steak
“Porterhouse” comes to us from porter beer, a heavy dark beer brewed from browned or charred malt. The beer was brewed in England as early as 1750. By the late 1700s, Ireland brewed porter beer as a reaction to increased imports from London. In the mid 1800s, the word “porterhouse” meant a resting place for weary travelers. These places served steak and ale, including porter beer.
One version of the popular steak comes to us from Manhattan’s Pearl Street in 1814. Martin Morrison served large T-bone steaks in his establishment, which was one of the first porterhouses in the U.S.
In another version of the story, the Porter House was an early New York tavern (some say the tavern was in Cambridge, Massachusetts) known for its steaks. One eventful evening, the tavern ran out of the steaks it usually served the patrons. So Mr. Zachariah B. Porter went into his private stock and chose a large piece of sirloin to broil. The steak was declared to be scrumptious. The cut of meat was added to the menu as a “porterhouse steak.” The Porter House, a 19th Century hotel, in Flowery Branch, Georgian, also claims to have first used the phrase to refer to a steak on its fare. Either way, those who love a good steak find the beef tenderloin (filet mignon) combined with a New York strip cut one of the best steaks to be eaten. http://www.mcallenranchbeef.com/rancher/history-of-the-porterhouse-steak/

To Skin the Cat
This means to hang by one’s hands from branch or bar, bring the legs up and through the arms, and to pull oneself onto a seated position upon the branch/bar. Some experts believe this phrase comes to us from Ben Franklin or his cohorts. However, the phrase is not found in print until 1845. To make this move, it was reminiscent of removing the pelt from a cat first from the forelegs and then down the body. Random House Dictionary of Popular Proverbs and Sayings (by Gregory Y. Titelman) mentions a 1678 proverb (also mentioned in John Ray’s collection of English proverbs and first attested in the U. S. in “John Smith’s Letters.” The phrase reads as “There are more ways to kill a cat besides choking him to death.” http://www.phrases.org.uk/bulletin_board/61/messages/1056.html

from geekdad.com

from geekdad.com

Posted in language choices, word play, writing | Tagged , , | 4 Comments