Jack Sheppard, Inspiration for John Gay’s “The Beggar’s Opera”

Posted on April 8, 2014 by Regina Jeffers

Jack Sheppard or known as John Sheppard (4 March 1702 – 16 November 1724) was a notorious English robber, burglar and thief of early 18th-century London. Born into a poor family, he was apprenticed as a carpenter but took to theft and burglary in 1723, with little more than a year of his training yet to complete. He was arrested and imprisoned five times in 1724, but escaped four times from prison, making him a notorious public figure, and wildly popular with the poorer classes.

Ultimately, he was caught, convicted, and hanged at Tyburn, ending his brief criminal career after less than two years. The inability of the notorious “Thief-Taker General” Jonathan Wild to control Sheppard, and injuries suffered by Wild at the hands of Sheppard’s colleague, Joseph “Blueskin” Blake, led to Wild’s downfall.

Sheppard was as renowned for his attempts to escape imprisonment as he was for his crimes. An autobiographical “Narrative,” thought to have been ghostwritten by Daniel Defoe, was sold at his execution, quickly followed by popular plays. The character of Macheath in John Gay’s The Beggar’s Opera (1728) was based on Sheppard, keeping him in the limelight for over 100 years. He returned to the public consciousness around 1840, when William Harrison Ainsworth wrote a novel entitled Jack Sheppard, with illustrations by George Cruikshank. The popularity of his tale, and the fear that others would be drawn to emulate his behaviour, led the authorities to refuse to license any plays in London with “Jack Sheppard” in the title for forty years.

Early Life

An engraving of Wych Street, from about 1870

An engraving of Wych Street, from about 1870

Sheppard was born in White’s Row, in London’s Spitalfields. He was baptised on 5 March, the day after he was born, at St Dunstan’s, Stepney, suggesting a fear of infant mortality by his parents, perhaps because the newborn was weak or sickly. His parents named him after an older brother, John, who had died before his birth. In life, he was better known as Jack, or even “Gentleman Jack” or “Jack the Lad.” He had a second brother, Thomas, and a younger sister, Mary. Their father, a carpenter, died while Sheppard was young, and his sister died two years later.

Unable to support her family without her husband’s income, Jack’s mother sent him to Mr Garrett’s School, a workhouse near St Helen’s Bishopsgate, when he was six years old. Sheppard was sent out as a parish apprentice to a cane-chair maker, taking a settlement of 20 shillings, but his new master soon died. He was sent out to a second cane-chair maker, but Sheppard was treated badly. Finally, when Sheppard was 10, he went to work as a shop-boy for William Kneebone, a wool draper with a shop on the Strand. Sheppard’s mother had been working for Kneebone since her husband’s death. Kneebone taught Sheppard to read and write and apprenticed him to a carpenter, Owen Wood, in Wych Street, off Drury Lane in Covent Garden. Sheppard signed his seven-year indenture on 2 April 1717.

By 1722, Sheppard was showing great promise as a carpenter. Aged 20, he was a small man, only 5’4″ (1.63 m) and lightly built, but deceptively strong. He had a pale face with large, dark eyes, a wide mouth and a quick smile. Despite a slight stutter, his wit made him popular in the taverns of Drury Lane. He served five unblemished years of his apprenticeship but then began to be led into crime.

Joseph Hayne, a button-moulder who owned a shop nearby, also ran a tavern named the Black Lion off Drury Lane, which he encouraged the local apprentices to frequent. The Black Lion was visited by criminals such as Joseph “Blueskin” Blake, Sheppard’s future partner in crime, and self-proclaimed “Thief-Taker General” Jonathan Wild, secretly the linchpin of a criminal empire across London and later Sheppard’s implacable enemy.

According to Sheppard’s “autobiography,” he had been an innocent until going to Hayne’s tavern, but there began an attachment to strong drink and the affections of Elizabeth Lyon, a prostitute also known as Edgworth Bess (or Edgeworth Bess) from her place of birth at Edgeworth in Middlesex. In his History, Defoe records that Bess was “a main lodestone in attracting of him up to this Eminence of Guilt.”

Such, Sheppard claimed, was the source of his later ruin. Peter Linebaugh offers a different view: that Sheppard’s sudden transformation was a liberation from the dull drudgery of indentured labour and, he progressed from pious servitude to self-confident rebellion and Levelling.

Criminal Career
Sheppard threw himself into a hedonistic whirl of drinking and whoring. Inevitably, his carpentry suffered, and he became disobedient to his master. With Lyon’s encouragement, Sheppard took to crime in order to complement his legitimate wages. His first recorded theft was in Spring 1723, when he engaged in petty shoplifting, stealing two silver spoons while on an errand for his master to Rummer Tavern in Charing Cross.

Sheppard’s misdeeds went undetected, and he moved on to larger crimes, often stealing goods from the houses where he was working. Finally, he quit the employ of his master on 2 August 1723, with less than 2 years of his apprenticeship left, although he continued to work as a journeyman carpenter. He was not suspected of the crimes, and progressed to burglary, falling in with criminals in Jonathan Wild’s gang.

Jack used a rope of knotted bedclothes to lower Bess during their escape from the New Prison in Clerkenwell.

Jack used a rope of knotted bedclothes to lower Bess during their escape from the New Prison in Clerkenwell.

He moved to Fulham, living as man and wife with Lyon at Parsons Green, before moving to Piccadilly. When Lyon was arrested and imprisoned at St Giles’s Roundhouse, the beadle, a Mr Brown, refused to let Sheppard visit, so he broke in and took her away.

Arrested and Escaped Twice
Sheppard was first arrested after a burglary he committed with his brother, Tom, and his mistress, Lyon, in Clare Market on 5 February 1724. Tom, also a carpenter, had already been convicted once for stealing tools from his master the previous autumn and burned in the hand. Tom was arrested again on 24 April 1724. Afraid that he would be hanged this time, Tom informed on Jack, and a warrant was issued for Jack’s arrest.

Jonathan Wild was aware of Sheppard’s thefts, as Sheppard had fenced some stolen goods through one of Wild’s men, William Field. Wild asked another of his men, James Sykes (known as “Hell and Fury”) to challenge Sheppard to a game of skittles at Redgate’s public house near Seven Dials. Sykes betrayed Sheppard to a Mr Price, a constable from the parish of St Giles, to gather the usual £40 reward for giving information leading to the conviction of a felon. The magistrate, Justice Parry, had Sheppard imprisoned overnight on the top floor of St Giles’s Roundhouse pending further questioning, but Sheppard escaped within three hours by breaking through the timber ceiling and lowering himself to the ground with a rope fashioned from bedclothes. Still wearing irons, Sheppard coolly joined the crowd that had been attracted by the sounds of him breaking out. He distracted their attention by pointing to the shadows on the roof and shouting that he could see the escapee, and then swiftly departed.

On 19 May 1724, Sheppard was arrested for a second time, caught in the act of picking a pocket in Leicester Fields (near present-day Leicester Square). He was detained overnight in St Ann’s Roundhouse in Soho and visited there the next day by Lyon; she was recognised as his wife and locked in a cell with him. They appeared before Justice Walters, who sent them to the New Prison in Clerkenwell, but they escaped from their cell, known as the Newgate Ward, within a matter of days. By 25 May, Whitsun Monday, Sheppard and Lyon had filed through their manacles; they removed a bar from the window and used their knotted bed-clothes to descend to ground level. Finding themselves in the yard of the neighbouring bridewell, they clambered over the 22-foot-high (6.7 m) prison gate to freedom. This feat was widely publicised, not least because Sheppard was only a small man, and Lyon was a large, buxom woman.

Third Arrest, Trial, and Third Escape
Sheppard’s thieving abilities were admired by Jonathan Wild. Wild demanded that Sheppard surrender his stolen goods for Wild to fence, and so take the greater profits, but Sheppard had refused. He began to work with Joseph “Blueskin” Blake, and they burgled Sheppard’s former master, William Kneebone, on Sunday, 12 July 1724. Wild could not permit Sheppard to continue outside his control and began to seek Sheppard’s arrest. Unfortunately for Sheppard, his fence, William Field, was one of Wild’s men. After Sheppard had a brief foray with Blueskin as highwaymen on the Hampstead Road on Sunday 19 July and Monday 20 July, Field informed on Sheppard to Wild. Wild believed Lyon would know Sheppard’s whereabouts, so he plied her with drinks at a brandy shop near Temple Bar until she betrayed him. Sheppard was arrested a third time at Blueskin’s mother’s brandy shop in Rosemary Lane, east of the Tower of London (later renamed Royal Mint Street), on 23 July by Wild’s henchman, Quilt Arnold.

Sheppard was imprisoned in Newgate Prison pending his trial at the next Assize of oyer and terminer. He was prosecuted on three charges of theft at the Old Bailey, but was acquitted on the first two due to lack of evidence. Kneebone, Wild and Field gave evidence against him on the third charge, the burglary of Kneebone’s house. He was convicted on 12 August, the case “being plainly prov’d,” and sentenced to death. On Monday 31 August, the very day when the death warrant arrived from the court in Windsor setting Friday, 4 September as the date for his execution, Sheppard escaped. Having loosened an iron bar in a window used when talking to visitors, he was visited by Lyon and Poll Maggott, who distracted the guards while he removed the bar.

His slight build had enabled him to climb through the resulting gap in the grille, and he was smuggled out of Newgate in women’s clothing that his visitors had brought him. He took a coach to Blackfriars Stairs, a boat up the River Thames to the horse ferry in Westminster, near the warehouse where he hid his stolen goods, and made good his escape.

Fourth Arrest and Final Escape
By this point, Sheppard was a working class hero (being a cockney, non-violent, and handsome, and seemingly able to escape punishment for his crimes at will). He spent a few days out of London, visiting a friend’s family in Chipping Warden in Northamptonshire, but was soon back in Town. He evaded capture by Wild and his men but was arrested again on 9 September by a posse from Newgate as he hid out on Finchley Common, and was returned to the condemned cell at Newgate.

His fame had increased with each escape, and he was visited in prison by the great, the good and the curious. His plans to escape in September were thwarted twice when the guards found files and other tools in his cell, and he was transferred to a strong-room in Newgate known as the “Castle,” clapped in leg irons, and chained to two metal staples in the floor to prevent further escape attempts.

After demonstrating to his gaolers that these measures were insufficient, by showing them how he could use a small nail to unlock the horse padlock at will, he was bound more tightly and handcuffed. In his History, Defoe reports that Sheppard made light of his predicament, joking that “I am the Sheppard, and all the Gaolers in the Town are my Flock, and I cannot stir into the Country, but they are all at my Heels Baughing after me.”

Meanwhile, “Blueskin” Blake was arrested by Wild and his men on Friday, 9 October, and Tom, Jack’s brother, was transported for robbery on Saturday, 10 October 1724. New court sessions began on Wednesday 14 October, and Blueskin was tried on Thursday 15 October, with Field and Wild again giving evidence. Their accounts were not consistent with the evidence that they gave at Sheppard’s trial, but Blueskin was convicted anyway. Enraged, Blueskin attacked Wild in the courtroom, slashing his throat with a pocket-knife and causing an uproar. Wild was lucky to survive, and his grip over his criminal empire started to slip while he recuperated.

Jack Sheppard in Newgate Prison before his fourth escape, from the frontispiece of the "Narrative" of his life, published by John Applebee in 1724. The label "A" marks the hole he made in the chimney during his escape.

Jack Sheppard in Newgate Prison before his fourth escape, from the frontispiece of the “Narrative” of his life, published by John Applebee in 1724. The label “A” marks the hole he made in the chimney during his escape.

Taking advantage of the disturbance, which spread to Newgate Prison next door and continued into the night, Sheppard escaped for the fourth time. He unlocked his handcuffs and removed the chains. Still encumbered by his leg irons, he attempted to climb up the chimney, but his path was blocked by an iron bar set into the brickwork. He removed the bar and used it to break through the ceiling into the “Red Room” above the “Castle,” a room which had last been used some seven years before to confine aristocratic Jacobite prisoners after the Battle of Preston. Still wearing his leg irons as night fell, he then broke through six barred doors into the prison chapel, then to the roof of Newgate, 60 feet (20 m) above the ground. He went back down to his cell to get a blanket, then back to the roof of the prison, and used the blanket to reach the roof of an adjacent house, owned by William Bird, a turner.

He broke into Bird’s house, and went down the stairs and out into the street at around midnight without disturbing the occupants. Escaping through the streets to the north and west, Sheppard hid in a cowshed in Tottenham (near modern Tottenham Court Road). Spotted by the barn’s owner, Sheppard told him that he had escaped from Bridewell Prison, having been imprisoned there for failing to support a (nonexistent) bastard son. His leg irons remained in place for several days until he persuaded a passing shoemaker to accept the considerable sum of 20 shillings to bring a blacksmith’s tools and help him remove them, telling him the same tale.

His manacles and leg irons were later recovered in the rooms of Kate Cook, one of Sheppard’s mistresses. This escape astonished everyone. Daniel Defoe, working as a journalist, wrote an account for John Applebee, The History of the Remarkable Life of John Sheppard. In his History, Defoe reports the belief in Newgate that the Devil came in person to assist Sheppard’s escape.

Final Capture

Jack Sheppard, in Newgate Prison awaiting execution, in an engraving by George White from 1728, based on a painting by James Thornhill which has not survived. Note that Sheppard's hair is cropped and that he points toward the door.

Jack Sheppard, in Newgate Prison awaiting execution, in an engraving by George White from 1728, based on a painting by James Thornhill which has not survived. Note that Sheppard’s hair is cropped and that he points toward the door.

Sheppard’s final period of liberty lasted just two weeks. He disguised himself as a beggar and returned to the City. He broke into the Rawlins brothers’ pawnbroker’s shop in Drury Lane on the night of 29 October 1724, taking a black silk suit, a silver sword, rings, watches, a wig, and other items. He dressed himself as a dandy gentleman and used the proceeds to spend a day and the following evening on the tiles with two mistresses. He was arrested a final time in the early morning on 1 November, blind drunk, “in a handsome Suit of Black, with a Diamond Ring and a Cornelian ring on his Finger, and a fine Light Tye Peruke.”

This time, Sheppard was placed in the Middle Stone Room, in the centre of Newgate next to the “Castle,” where he could be observed at all times. He was also loaded with three hundred pounds of iron weights. He was so celebrated that the gaolers charged high society visitors four shillings to see him, and the King’s painter James Thornhill painted his portrait. Several prominent people sent a petition to King George I, begging for his sentence of death to be commuted to transportation. “The Concourse of People of tolerable Fashion to see him was exceeding Great, he was always Chearful and Pleasant to a Degree, as turning almost everything as was said onto a Jest and Banter.” To a Reverend Wagstaffe who visited him, he said, according to Defoe, “One file’s worth all the Bibles in the World.”

Sheppard came before Mr Justice Powis in the Court of King’s Bench at Westminster Hall on 10 November. He was offered the chance to have his sentence reduced by informing on his associates, but he scorned the offer, and the death sentence was confirmed. The next day, Blueskin was hanged, and Sheppard was moved to the condemned cell.

Execution
The following Monday, 16 November, Sheppard was taken to the gallows at Tyburn to be hanged. He planned one more escape, but his pen-knife, intended to cut the ropes binding him on the way to the gallows, was found by a prison warder shortly before he left Newgate for the last time.

A joyous procession passed through the streets of London, with Sheppard’s cart drawn along Holborn and Oxford Street accompanied by a mounted City Marshal and liveried Javelin Men. The occasion was as much as anything a celebration of Sheppard’s life, attended by crowds of up to 200,000 (one third of London’s population). The procession halted at the City of Oxford tavern on Oxford Street, where Sheppard drank a pint of sack. A carnival atmosphere pervaded Tyburn, where his “official” autobiography, published by Applebee and probably ghostwritten by Defoe, was on sale. Sheppard handed “a paper to someone as he mounted the scaffold,” perhaps as a symbolic endorsement of the account in the “Narrative.” His slight build had aided his previous prison escapes, but it condemned him to a slow death by strangulation by the hangman’s noose. After hanging for the prescribed 15 minutes, his body was cut down. The crowd pressed forward to stop his body from being removed, fearing dissection; their actions inadvertently prevented Sheppard’s friends from implementing a plan to take his body to a doctor in an attempt to revive him. His badly mauled remains were recovered later and buried in the churchyard of St Martin’s-in-the-Fields that evening.

Legacy
There was a spectacular public reaction to Sheppard’s deeds. He was even cited (favourably) as an example in newspapers, pamphlets, broadsheets, and ballads were all devoted to his amazing exploits, and his story was adapted for the stage almost immediately. Harlequin Sheppard, a pantomime by one John Thurmond (subtitled “A night scene in grotesque characters”), opened at the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane on Saturday, 28 November, only two weeks after Sheppard’s hanging. In a famous contemporary sermon, a London preacher drew on Sheppard’s popular escapes as a way of holding his congregation’s attention:

“Let me exhort ye, then, to open the locks of your hearts with the nail of repentance! Burst asunder the fetters of your beloved lusts! – mount the chimney of hope! – take from thence the bar of good resolution! – break through the stone wall of despair!”

The account of his life remained well-known through the Newgate Calendar, and a three-act farce was published but never produced, but, mixed with songs, it became The Quaker’s Opera, later performed at Bartholomew Fair. An imagined dialogue between Jack Sheppard and Julius Caesar was published in the British Journal on 4 December 1724, in which Sheppard favourably compares his virtues and exploits to those of Caesar.

Perhaps the most prominent play based on Sheppard’s life is John Gay’s The Beggar’s Opera (1728). Sheppard was the inspiration for the figure of Macheath; his nemesis, Peachum, is based on Jonathan Wild. The play was spectacularly popular, restoring the fortune that Gay had lost in the South Sea Bubble, and was produced regularly for over 100 years. An unperformed but published play The Prison-Breaker was turned into The Quaker’s Opera (in imitation of The Beggar’s Opera) and performed at Bartholomew Fair in 1725 and 1728. Two centuries later The Beggar’s Opera was the basis for The Threepenny Opera of Bertolt Brecht and Kurt Weill (1928).

Sheppard’s tale may have been an inspiration for William Hogarth’s 1747 series of 12 engravings, Industry and Idleness, which shows the parallel descent of an apprentice, Tom Idle, into crime and eventually to the gallows, beside the rise of his fellow apprentice, Francis Goodchild, who marries his master’s daughter and takes over his business, becoming wealthy as a result, eventually emulating Dick Whittington to become Lord Mayor of London.

"The Last Scene" engraved by George Cruikshank in 1839 to illustrate William Harrison Ainsworth's serialised novel, Jack Sheppard. The captions read: "Jack Sheppard's Farewell to Mr Wood", "Blueskin cutting down Jack Sheppard", and "The body of Jack Sheppard carried off by the mob."

“The Last Scene” engraved by George Cruikshank in 1839 to illustrate William Harrison Ainsworth’s serialised novel, Jack Sheppard. The captions read: “Jack Sheppard’s Farewell to Mr Wood”, “Blueskin cutting down Jack Sheppard”, and “The body of Jack Sheppard carried off by the mob.”

Sheppard’s tale was revived in the first half of the 19th century. A melodrama, Jack Sheppard, The Housebreaker, or London in 1724, by W.T. Moncrieff was published in 1825. More successful was William Harrison Ainsworth’s third novel, entitled Jack Sheppard, which was originally published in Bentley’s Miscellany from January 1839 with illustrations by George Cruikshank, overlapping with the final episodes of Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist.

An archetypal Newgate novel, it generally remains close to the facts of Sheppard’s life, but portrays him as a swashbuckling hero. Like Hogarth’s prints, the novel pairs the descent of the “idle” apprentice into crime with the rise of a typical melodramatic character, Thames Darrell, a foundling of aristocratic birth who defeats his evil uncle to recover his fortune. Cruikshank’s images perfectly complemented Ainsworth’s tale—Thackeray wrote that “…Mr Cruickshank really created the tale, and that Mr Ainsworth, as it were, only put words to it.” The novel quickly became very popular: it was published in book form later that year, before the serialised version was completed, and even outsold early editions of Oliver Twist.

Ainsworth’s novel was adapted into a successful play by John Buckstone in October 1839 at the Adelphi Theatre starring (strangely enough) Mary Anne Keeley; indeed, it seems likely that Cruikshank’s illustrations were deliberately created in a form that were informed by, and would be easy to repeat as, tableaux on stage. It has been described as the “exemplary climax” of “the pictorial novel dramatized pictorially.”

The story generated a form of cultural mania, embellished by pamphlets, prints, cartoons, plays and souvenirs, not repeated until George du Maurier’s Trilby in 1895. By early 1840, a cant song from Buckstone’s play, “Nix My Dolly, Pals, Fake Away” was reported to be “deafening us in the streets.” Public alarm at the possibility that young people would emulate Sheppard’s behaviour led the Lord Chamberlain to ban, at least in London, the licensing of any plays with “Jack Sheppard” in the title for forty years. The fear may not have been entirely unfounded: Courvousier, the valet of Lord William Russell, claimed in one of his several confessions that the book had inspired him to murder his master. Frank and Jesse James wrote letters to the Kansas City Star signed “Jack Sheppard.”

Nevertheless, a number of burlesques of the story were written after the ban was lifted, including a popular Gaiety Theatre, London piece called Little Jack Sheppard (1885-86) by Henry Pottinger Stephens and W. Yardley, with music by Meyer Lutz and others.

The Sheppard story has been revived several times in the 20th century, including three silent movies, The Hairbreadth Escape of Jack Sheppard (1900), Robbery of the Mail Coach (1903) and Jack Sheppard (1923); a book, The Road to Tyburn, by Christopher Hibbert (1957); a British costume drama, Where’s Jack?, directed by James Clavell, with Tommy Steele in the title role (1969); an unrealised film project of FilmFour Productions in 2000, Jack Sheppard and Jonathan Wild, for which Benjamin Ross, who would have been director, co-wrote the screenplay with John Preston, with Tobey Maguire and Harvey Keitel slated for the main parts; a 2002 television drama, Invitation to a Hanging; and a series of novels by Neal Stephenson collectively known as, The Baroque Cycle (2003, 2004), in which the character Jack Shaftoe was partly inspired by events from the life of Jack Sheppard.

Bram Stoker references Jack Sheppard in “Dracula” when referring to the patient Renfield.

“He is safe now, at any rate. Jack Sheppard himself couldn’t get free from the strait waistcoat that keeps him restrained, and he’s chained to the wall in the padded room.”

The reasons for the lasting legacy of Jack Sheppard’s exploits in the popular imagination have been addressed by Peter Linebaugh, who suggests that Sheppard’s legend was rooted in the prospect of excarceration, of escape from what Michel Foucault in Folie et déraison called the grand renfermement (Great Confinement), in which “unreasonable” members of the population were locked away and institutionalised. The laws levelled at Sheppard and similar working class criminals were a means of disciplining a potentially rebellious multitude into accepting increasingly harsh property laws. A nineteenth-century view on the Jack Sheppard phenomenon was offered by Charles Mackay in Memoirs of Extraordinary Popular Delusions and the Madness of Crowds:

“Whether it be that the multitude, feeling the pangs of poverty, sympathise with the daring and ingenious depredators who take away the rich man’s superfluity, or whether it be the interest that mankind in general feel for the records of perilous adventure, it is certain that the populace of all countries look with admiration upon great and successful thieves.”

Posted in British history, buildings and structures, Georgian Era, Great Britain, Living in the UK, political stance, real life tales | Tagged , , , , | Comments Off on Jack Sheppard, Inspiration for John Gay’s “The Beggar’s Opera”

The New Prison in the Regency Era

Posted on April 7, 2014 by Regina Jeffers

New Prison plays a part in my current Work in Progress. I thought I might share a bit of information. Unlike the more widely known, Newgate Prison, the New Prison had a less stellar past.

The New Prison was a prison located in the Clerkenwell area of central London between c.1617 and 1877 (it should not be confused with the New Gaol, another name sometimes applied to Horsemonger Lane Gaol in Southwark, south London).

The New Prison was used to house prisoners committed for examination before the police magistrates, for trial at the sessions, for want of bail, and occasionally on summary conviction.

It was rebuilt three times: in 1773, 1818 (after being burnt down in the Gordon Riots of 1780), and in 1847. At this time it was renamed the Clerkenwell House of Detention, also known as Clerkenwell Prison.

Next-door was another prison, the Clerkenwell Bridewell for convicted criminals, built in around 1615. This closed in 1794, being superseded by nearby Coldbath Fields Prison.

Modern Use of Building Remnants
During the Second World War part of the basement was altered to form a bomb shelter.

Today, the site of the New Prison and the Clerkenwell Bridewell is occupied by the former Hugh Myddleton School (1893-c.1960), in Bowling Green Lane. A number of the original underground spaces and cells remain and are used for office space or storage. A 2007 adaptation of Oliver Twist used these spaces for filming in the July 2007.

In 2009, the site was being redeveloped by developer Sans Walk, and the vaults of the building (formerly used for the reception of prisoners, medical examination and baths as well as kitchens) were accessed by members of the IStructE History Study Group.

Famous Inmates
Jack Sheppard – Jack Sheppard or known as John Sheppard (4 March 1702 – 16 November 1724) was a notorious English robber, burglar and thief of early 18th-century London.

Posted in British history, buildings and structures, George IV, Georgian Era, Great Britain, Living in the Regency, Living in the UK, real life tales, William IV | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments

Re-Release of “Captain Frederick Wentworth’s Persuasion: Jane Austen’s Persuasion Retold Through His Eyes”

Posted on April 4, 2014 by Regina Jeffers

CFWP Crop2Of late, I have taken on the daunting task of revisiting some of my earlier works. The act had come as a response to several of my loyal followers, who either wished to revisit an earlier piece or had asked if I would place a particular piece on sale. When a traditional publisher releases a book, that publisher has control of the price, when or if the book is placed on sale, and how the book will be promoted. The only time we hold control as authors is if the book is an independent project.  Once a traditionally published book is more than six months old, the publisher rarely spends time in promoting it. A book can, literally, set upon a shelf with no notice for years upon end.

As my first book, Darcy’s Passions, was originally a self-published book, there is a clause in my contract, which says I may self publish that title. I simply cannot sell the manuscript to another traditionally published group. That self-published clause has reappeared in each of my contracts. Therefore, I plan to re-release several of them as independent titles. Captain Frederick Wentworth’s Persuasion: Jane Austen’s Classic Retold Through His Eyes will be the first of those. I chose to begin with CFWP because I plan a sequel to the book, and I wished to introduce it to new readers. Although I adored having a Joshua Reynolds’s painting on the original cover, the book has a new cover. I have reworked some of the scenes, but nothing major has changed in the book. If you do not already own this book, it is an excellent time to pick it up in print or eBook form. If you have the title, anticipate the sequel in about six – eight months.

Below, I hope you will enjoy the “love letter” scene from Austen’s Persuasion retold from Captain Wentworth’s POV instead of that of Anne Elliot.

CFWP Crop1BOOK BLURB:

The love affair behind Jane Austen’s classic, Persuasion, rests at the heart of this retelling from Captain Frederick Wentworth’s point of view.

He has loved her from the moment their eyes met some eight years prior, but Frederick Wentworth is determined to prove to Anne Elliot that she has made a mistake by refusing him. Persuaded by her family and friends of his lack of a future, Anne had sent him away, but now he is back, and it is Anne whose circumstances have brought her low. Frederick means to name another to replace her, but whenever he looks upon Anne’s perfect countenance, his resolve wavers, and he finds himself lost once again to his desire for her. Return to the Regency and Austen’s most compelling love story. Jeffers turns the tale upon its head while maintaining Jane Austen’s tale of love and devotion.

EXCERPT:

From the corner of his eye, Frederick noted how outwardly composed Anne had appeared, and he wondered how he must appear to the others. The moment she had walked into the room, he had felt himself plunged at once into all the agitations, which he had merely anticipated tasting a little before the morning had closed. There was no delay—no waste of time. He was instantly deep in the happiness of such misery or the misery of such happiness.

Clearing his throat and attempted to sound disinterested, Frederick spoke to his friend: “I will write the letter of which we spoke earlier, Harville, if you will hand me the materials.”

“They are on the side table.” Thomas gestured to a small table to Frederick’s left. With the miniature and Benwick’s request in hand, Frederick went to it. Turning his back on the gathered party, He attempted to appear engrossed by writing.

His sister, Sophia, spoke to Mrs. Musgrove, and he listened carefully to their conversation, in tune for any words spoken by Anne. Mrs. Musgrove had informed Sophia about the changes having taken place at Uppercross, and his sister heartily agreed how young people should not dwell in long engagements. Frederick found himself agreeing in principle with Sophia’s sentiments. He knew she had spoken from experience for she and the Admiral had married a little more than a month after their meeting, and if his hopes were fulfilled, he would wish to marry Anne as quickly as possible. Pretending to draft the letter, which he had composed in his head the night before, Frederick thought about how quickly he could marry Anne after she accepted him. He would not be willing to wait any longer than the necessary calling of the banns.

Sophia declared, “To begin without knowing that at such a time there will be the means of marrying, I hold to be very unsafe and unwise. Yet, generally, couples should not delay their coming together.”

His pen ceased to move, and as if he was compelled to do so, his head raised; he paused to listen, and he turned round the next instant to give a look—one conscious look to Anne. She flushed with the recognition, but neither of them turned from the other’s gaze. The two ladies continued to talk—to urge again the same admitted truths and enforced them with such examples of the ill effect of long engagements as had fallen within their observations, but Frederick heard nothing distinctly; it was only a buzz of words in his ears, and his mind felt the confusion. Finally, Anne looked away at Thomas Harville, who motioned her to join him by the window. The moment of understanding broken, Frederick pushed the longing down and returned to the task at hand. He wrote the letter in earnest.

Scratching out the order for the artist he would commission, Frederick heard Thomas speak to Anne about the miniature. His friend explained to her why Frederick had taken up the charge of the letter. He thought it ironic Thomas spoke so openly to Anne when his friend had refused to share his frustration with anyone in the party other than Frederick. When their words turned to a light-hearted debate on which sex loved better, Frederick heard only their musings; his sister’s conversation no longer existed. Every nerve in his body remained attuned to Anne—only she existed in his world, and he must know how she felt.

“It would not be the nature of any woman who truly loved,” she protested against Harville’s assertion that, unlike a female, a man never forsook a woman he loved. Frederick would never forsake Anne—of that he was certain.

Her soft voice brought him back. “Yes, we certainly do not forget you so soon as you forget us. It is, perhaps, our fate rather than our merit. We cannot help ourselves. We live at home, quiet, confined, and our feelings prey on us. You are forced on exertion. You have always a profession, pursuits, business of some sort or other, to take you back into the world immediately, and continual occupation and change soon weaken impressions.”

Frederick stopped breathing for a moment. Was that how it had seemed to Anne? Did she believe I did not suffer from our separation? She must believe as such because I threw myself into my work, I forgot her—that I did not leave my heart behind in Somerset. I must tell her; only her love has ever given me comfort.

Needing to respond immediately, he took another sheet of foolscap from the desk drawer and addressed her passionately:

I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul! I am half agony—half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you.

Anne’s voice now spoke with eagerness, and Frederick jerked his head up and clumsily knocked over the blotting jar, sending it scattering dust across the carpet. His pen followed. He quickly retrieved the items, embarrassed at being so obvious in his intent.

“Have you finished your letter?” called Captain Harville.

Frederick stammered, “Not…not quite, a few lines more. I shall have done in five minutes.”

Harville smiled at Anne. Frederick should have known Anne would win Thomas’s loyalty; he and Harville both understood the qualities of a fine woman. “There is no hurry on my side,” his friend shared. “I am only ready whenever you are.—I am in very good anchorage here—well supplied and wanting for nothing.—No hurry for a signal at all.”

As Frederick rearranged the items on the desk, he heard Harville lower his voice to speak to Anne further. They talked of inconstancy, and Frederick’s heart went out to his friend as Thomas spoke with compassion and with insight into how a sailor feels about the woman he loves. “I speak, you know, only of such men as have hearts!”

“Oh!” cried Anne eagerly; “I hope I do justice to all that is felt by you and by those who resemble you.” She offered his friend empathy, and Frederick smiled, knowing it to be her true nature. “I believe you capable of everything equal and good in your married lives. I believe you equal to every important exertion, and to every domestic forbearance, so long as—if I may be allowed the expression, so long as you have an object.” Frederick leaned forward, hanging on Anne’s every word. “I mean, while the woman you love lives and lives for you. All the privilege I claim for my own sex is of loving longest when existence or when hope is gone.”

From the corner of his eye, Frederick watched as Thomas put his hand on her arm quite affectionately. The gesture drove Frederick to return to his letter; it was important to speak to Anne of his feelings and of the uncommon possession, which remained between them.

Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone brought me to Bath. For you alone I think and plan.—Have you not seen this? Can you fail to understand my wishes?—I had not waited even these ten days, could I read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice, when they would be lost on others.—Too good, too excellent creature! You do us justice indeed. You do believe there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating in

FW

“Here, Frederick you and I part company, I believe,” Sophia spoke loudly enough to recall him from his task. “I am going home, and you have an engagement with your friend.—Tonight we may have the pleasure of all meeting again at your party.” She directed her last thought to Anne. “We had your sister’s card yesterday, and I understand Frederick had a card, too, though I did not see it—and you are disengaged, Frederick, are you not, as well as ourselves?”

As she spoke, Frederick scratched out his postscript:

I must go, uncertain of my fate; but I shall return hither, or follow your party, as soon as possible. A word, a look will be enough to decide whether I enter your father’s house this evening, or never.

He managed to answer his sister, although a bit incoherently. “Yes, very true; here we separate, but Harville and I shall soon be after you, that is, Harville, if you are prepared, I am in half a minute. I know you will not be sorry to be off. I shall be at your service in half a minute.

Sophia nodded her farewell to each of them, and Thomas retrieved his hat and gloves. Frederick sealed his letter with great rapidity. Having made the decision to write it, he wanted the words in Anne’s hands; Frederick needed to be finished with this part and to begin his life with Anne—if she would have him.

He slid Anne’s letter under the blotter pad, having sealed it and marked it with her initials. “Let us be off, Harville,” he encouraged. Frederick picked up his gloves—laying them purposely to the side of the desk—and then his hat before walking to the door. He could not speak to Anne—nor even look at her. His impatience to be gone created a hurried air as he exited the room.

Frederick heard Thomas offer a kind “Good morning. God bless you,” to Anne.

He regretted not being able to speak his farewells–the agitation too great, but if Anne was to refuse him, he wanted no pity from those who marked his departure.

He and Thomas made it to the outside door before Frederick spoke again. “Harville, wait for me a moment; I seemed to have left my gloves in the Musgroves’ quarters.”

“It is of no matter—I shall remain here.” Harville shifted his weight, allowing the cane to support him.

Making his unexpected return, Frederick said, “I apologize, Mrs. Musgrove,” as he crossed the room, “I left my gloves behind.”

Mrs. Musgrove stood by the window, looking out for the rest of their party. “It is quite all right, Captain Wentworth.” The woman did not even turn around.

However, Anne stood close by, and she watched his every move. Stepping beside the desk, Frederick purposefully slid his fingers along the edge of the blotter paper. He locked eyes with Anne and then he drew out the letter and placed it on the desk. With the slightest of nods, he hastily collected his gloves and was again from the room—the work of an instant!

His future was now in her hands. Frederick found Harville where he had left him, and they started toward the portrait studio to meet with the artist. They walked two blocks in complete silence—Frederick’s vexation clearly evident.

“Do you wish to tell me who will receive the second letter?” Thomas asked softly, never looking at Frederick.

He hesitated. “You noted my ploy?”

“Obviously,” Thomas taunted. “Was it a love letter for Miss Anne?” Then he guffawed at his own joke. His friend chuckled some more at seeing Frederick flinch, but when Frederick did not answer, Harville gasped a little too loudly, “It was a love letter for Miss Anne!”

Barely audible, Frederick acknowledged, “Yes—yes, it was for Anne.”

“Anne?” Thomas responded with disbelief. “How long has she been Anne?”

“From the first day I laid eyes on her—”

“In Somerset more than eight years prior,” Thomas finished the sentence. “I knew it, you sly fox!” He slapped Frederick on the shoulder.

Obviously distressed, Frederick countered, “Do not congratulate me, Thomas; I know not my fate. The letter professes my love, but will Anne accept a renewal of my regard?”

Thomas took pity on him. “May I ask why you are with me? Hand me the miniature and the letter; I can well do this without you.” Frederick protested, but a wave of Thomas’s hand stopped him short. “Go—go back to the White Hart and win the woman you love. Do not leave there until she is yours!”

“Dare I risk it?” Frederick looked longingly toward the way they had come, uncertain what to do.

Thomas grinned. “Do you truly love this woman?”

“Most wholeheartedly,” Frederick insisted.

“I have never known you to permit anything to keep you from what you most desired. If you delay, it will be a first.”

“No.” Frederick shook his head. “It will not be a first.” His anxiety increased as he looked away once more. “I must go—I apologize, Harville, but I must go!” As he strode away, he heard Thomas chuckling. Turning the corner at Bath Street, he noted Anne and Charles Musgrove had crossed to Union. He quickened his step to overtake them, but when Frederick reached the pair, he paused. Knowing within a few minutes he would speak what was in his heart, he froze—irresolute whether to join them or to pass on, saying nothing at all. He stared at Anne, wondering what to do, each heartbeat infinitely long. Then she, sensing his approach, had turned suddenly; Anne blushed—her cheeks, which were pale, now glowed, and the movement, which first hesitated, was decided. Frederick stepped beside her, and they were lost to each other. Eyes danced in happiness, and they were as before–united–hearts interlocked, requiring no words to declare their continued love.

“Say, Wentworth,” Charles implored him. “Which way are you going? Only to Gay Street or farther up the town?” Charles appeared most anxious to leave his responsibility to Anne.

Frederick did not remove his eyes from Anne’s countenance. “I hardly know,” he replied.

Charles continued, oblivious to the moment swirling between Frederick and Anne. “Are you going as high as Belmont? Are you going near Camden Place? Because if you are, I shall have no scruple in asking you to take my place and give Anne your arm to her father’s door. She is rather done for this morning and must not go so far without assistance. And I ought to be at that fellow’s in the marketplace. He promised me the sight of a capital gun he is just going to send off; said he would keep it unpacked to the last possible moment, that I might see it; and if I do not turn back now, I will have no opportunity. By his description, a good deal like the second-sized double barrel of mine, which you shot with one day, round Winthrop. What do you say, Wentworth?”

Frederick attempted to wipe the smile from his lips, but he forsook the effort when he noted a like smile on Anne’s countenance. “It is fine, Musgrove. Go see the gun. I will be most honored to escort Miss Anne home; she will be safe with me.”

“That is superb news! I am in your debt,” Musgrove added quickly. Then he disappeared, hurrying along Union Street. “Which way, Miss Anne?” Frederick’s voice remained husky with emotion.

“Some place quiet, Captain—you may choose.” Anne placed her hand on his proffered arm, and Frederick pulled her close to his side. Relief rushed through him as they turned away from the crowd.

As they entered the park, Frederick led her to a nearby bench. “May we sit for a time?” They had spoken little as they had walked Bath’s streets, each lost in the splendor of the moment. When he properly seated her beside him, Frederick caught her hand in his, clutching it to his chest. “Anne,” he whispered, “my heart beats again because of you—with the hope you will receive me—that you understand how ardently I adore you.” He brought her palm to his lips and planted a kiss on the inside of her wrist. “Please say I am not too late.”

Anne released her hand from his, but she did so to trace the outline of his lips. It was an exquisite familiarity, which spoke of her quiet acceptance. “Yours is the countenance I see every time I close my eyes. It has been so for eight years—nothing you could say or do would ever change that.”

Frederick suddenly felt quite warm: the fire between them remained. “May I be so forward as to presume there is hope for us?”

“There is more than hope, Frederick. I give you my assurance.” She did not look away, but he noted the hitch in her breath. “I am no longer that foolish green girl; I am not so persuadable. If God provides a means for us to possess another opportunity at love, I will never turn from you. If it is truly your desire, you will be my life.” She raised her chin to look him directly in the eyes. “I love you, Frederick Wentworth; I have loved none but you.”

PURCHASE LINKS:

Kindle   http://www.amazon.com/Captain-Frederick-Wentworths-Persuasion-Austens-ebook/dp/B00IJZOR20/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1393978188&sr=8-1&keywords=captain+frederick+wentworth%27s+persuasion

Kobo  http://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/Search?Query=captain+frederick+wentworth%27s+persuasion

Nook   http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/captain-frederick-wentworths-persuasion-regina-jeffers/1118865260?ean=2940149507061

Amazon   http://www.amazon.com/Captain-Frederick-Wentworths-Persuasion-Austens/dp/1495463206/ref=sr_1_1_bnp_1_pap?ie=UTF8&qid=1393978243&sr=8-1&keywords=captain+frederick+wentworth%27s+persuasion

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Original Cover

Original Cover

Posted in book excerpts, excerpt, Great Britain, Jane Austen, Living in the Regency, Living in the UK, Napoleonic Wars, Regency era, Regency personalities, White Soup Press | Tagged , , , | Comments Off on Re-Release of “Captain Frederick Wentworth’s Persuasion: Jane Austen’s Persuasion Retold Through His Eyes”

Movie Discussion – Becoming Jane

Posted on April 3, 2014 by Regina Jeffers

bj6em>Becoming Jane is an imaginative, romantic tale that captures Jane Austen’s spirit, while playing with the truth. Many of authors have written their own “what if” stories, and so, maybe, we might be able to suspend reality and accept the witty, enchanting romance as all good storytelling. This film takes some well known facts from Austen’s life and spins them into an ingenious tale of lost love.

The film opens in the year 1795 and explores the feisty beginnings of an emerging 20-year-old writer, who wishes to live beyond what is expected of her – to actually marry for love. Anne Hathaway portrays Jane Austen, and James McAvoy plays the non-aristocratic Tom Lefroy, whose intellect and arrogance first raises young Jane’s ire and then captivates her heart. Juliann Jarrold, the film’s director says “A couple of recent biographies have sort of honed in on this romance with Tom Lefroy, because it’s the older bios that tend to say she [Austen] didn’t have this romance; that somehow, out of her imagination, she was able to portray these amazing characters. Straight after [the alleged romance], she started writing First Impressions – and then Sense and Sensibility, and Northanger Abbey.” (BTW, do you not love the facial similarities between the real Tom Lefroy and James McAvoy in these two pictures?)Tom Lefroy bj5

bj3The film is known for taking the truth and making it a reality. For example, there is some evidence that Ann Radcliffe influenced Jane Austen; however, the film creates a meeting between the two. During this encounter, Radcliffe asks Austen of what she will write.

Radcliffe: Of what do you wish to write?
Jane: The heart.
Radcliffe: Do you know it?
Jane: Not all of it.
Radcliffe: In time you will. If not…well, that situation is what imagination is for.

The film also provides us with plenty of “Jane” talk. For example, we hear part of the story/poem that Jane has created as a tribute to her sister Cassandra’s engagement.

The boundaries of propriety were vigorously assaulted, as was only right, but not quite breached, as was also right. Nevertheless, she was not pleased.
When others question Jane’s ambitions to become a novelist, she responds,
Novels are poor insipid things, read by mere women, even, God forbid, written by women.

But beyond the plot’s twists and turns, Becoming Jane playfully references Austen’s themes, characters, and story lines. So my question is how many such references can you name? Here are some (but not all) that I noted.

From Pride and Prejudice, we find…
**Jane’s character resembles a cross between the flirtatious Lydia Bennet, who loves to dance, and Elizabeth Bennet, whose verbal swordplay with Mr. Darcy is enticing. Mr. Warren is the klutzy clergyman whose proposal reminds us all of Mr. Collins. (He also is a bit like Mr. Elton in Emma.)
**Lady Gresham (Maggie Smith) is so Lady Catherine De Bourgh. She does not want Wisley to consider Jane as a mate, and I love the scene where she mentions “a little wilderness.”
**Lefroy’s character reminds of us the “worthless” activities of George Wickham early on in the film. Like Wickham, Lefroy studies law, but with not much success. Later he is very much Darcy in his judgment of “country” life.

From Sense and Sensibility, we find…
**Like Marianne Dashwood, Jane’s decisions are not based on “sense,” but on her “sensibility” (emotional response).
**Jane’s situation, if she does not marry Wisley, will be very much like the Dashwood sisters after losing their home.bj1

From Northanger Abbey, we find…
**Jane plays cricket, very much as did Catherine Morland.
**Jane defends her desire to write novels.
**The scene in Uncle Benjamin’s house between Jane and Lefroy reminds one of the staircase scene between Henry Tilney and Catherine Morland.bj4
**References to Ann Radcliffe’s (as well as other Gothic novels) are made in the novel. In the film, Jane visits Radcliffe.

From Mansfield Park, we find…
**Lady Gresham’s line to Jane about her duty to marry well reminds us of those spoken by Lady Bertram to Fanny Price.
**Lady Bertram spends her days with her pug dog, as does Countess Eliza, Jane’s cousin.

From Persuasion, we find…
**Although she loves him, Jane breaks an engagement with Lefroy so that he has a chance for a better future. This is similar to what happens between Anne Elliot and Captain Wentworth.
**In the novel, Anne meets Wentworth at a concert, where she must translate the opera for her cousin. She recognizes their love still exists, but she can say nothing. “How was the truth to reach him?” In the film, Jane meets Lefory many years after their separation at a concert. He has married and has a daughter named “Jane.”bj2

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Do You Remember? The Day the Music Died…the Death of Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and the Big Bopper

Posted on April 2, 2014 by Regina Jeffers

I have started a new series on this blog, one designed to have a look back at events that marked our world in popular culture and in literature. Today, I begin with the “Day the Music Died.” Do you recall the event that killed Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and the Big Bopper? If so, sound off below.

the Big Bopper, Ritchie Valens, and Buddy Holly

the Big Bopper, Ritchie Valens, and Buddy Holly

On 3 February 1959, rock ‘n’ roll’s knew its first great loss: A plane carrying the current stars, Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and J. P. Richardson (known as the Big Bopper) went down outside Clear Lake, Iowa.

A group of men view of the wreckage of a Beechcraft Bonanza airplane in a snowy field outside of Clear Lake, Iowa, early February 1959. The crash, on February 3, claimed the lives of American rock and roll musicians Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and J. P. 'The Big Bopper' Richardson. (Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images)

A group of men view of the wreckage of a Beechcraft Bonanza airplane in a snowy field outside of Clear Lake, Iowa, early February 1959. The crash, on February 3, claimed the lives of American rock and roll musicians Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and J. P. ‘The Big Bopper’ Richardson. (Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images)

The three stars had been part of the Winter Dance Party Tour, which was to play 24 cities in 24 days throughout the Midwest. Holly was the premiere attraction on the tour for he had previously garnered two appearances on the Ed Sullivan Show. Unfortunately, the bus transporting the musicians had heating problems, and many in the groups took ill with the flu. It was so bad that Holly’s drummer Carl Bunch was hospitalized with frostbite.

The night of the Clear Lake show found the Surf Ballroom packed with 1500 teens, most accompanied by their parents. Frankie Sardo opened the show with his hit “Take Out.” imagesThe Big Bopper was next on the program. Richardson wore a leopard jacket and carried a toy telephone. When he said, “Hellloooo baaaaaaby, this is the Big Bopper speakin’” the audience came to their feet. He continued with several mashups, including “The Big Bopper Wedding,” “Little Red Riding Hood,” and “The Purple People Eater Meets the Witch Doctor,” which was the novelty song on the flip side of his hit “Chantilly Lace.” (Memories, February/March 1989)

Unknown-1Valens was up next. He wowed the crowd with “La Bamba,” “Donna,” and “Come On, Let’s Go.” After the intermission, Dion and the Belmonts took the stage. With Bunch’s illness, Buddy had agreed to play drums for Dion, but he set up the drum set in the shadows of the stage’s lighting so as not to distract from the Belmonts’ performance.

UnknownWhen Holly took the stage, he gave the performance of his life, beginning with Billy Grammer’s “Gotta Travel On,” which was followed “That’ll Be the Day,” “Maybe Baby,” “Well…All Right.” He had obvious fun with “Bo Diddley” and with “Peggy Sue.” He finished with “Brown-Eyed Handsome Man,” which was performed twice–once alone and then with the whole touring troupe.

The conditions had driven Holly to charter a plane from nearby Mason City to Fargo, North Dakota, which was across the state line from Moorhead, Minnesota, the site of their next performance. The plane departed at 12:55 A.M., but it covered only a few miles before crashing, killing all four men instantly, in a snowstorm with high winds.

The plane had only enough room for Holly and his band and the pilot, Roger Peterson. Waylon Jennings, who became a legend in country music and who was Holly’s bass player at the time, relinquished his seat to J. P. Richardson, who was ill with a high fever. “According to Jennings’ autobiography, Holly teased his bass player by saying, ‘Well, I hope your ol’ bus freezes up.’ To which Jennings responded, ‘Well, I hope your ol’ plane crashes.’” (Ultimate Classic Rock)

“There are conflicting stories as to how Valens wound up in the third seat. Tommy Allsup, Holly’s guitarist, claimed that he lost a coin flip to Valens in the dressing room. In 2010, Dion Mimucci [the former lead singer of the popular 50s group Dion and the Belmonts], who had been silent about that night for 51 years, claimed that he, not Allsup, was slated for the third seat because he was one of the headliners. But after winning the coin toss, he balked at paying $36 for the flight–the amount his parents paid in monthly rent for the apartment where he grew up–and gave Valens the seat. Local DJ Bob Hale, who ws the MC for the concert, agrees that it was between Allsup and Valens, but that he, not Allsup, flipped the coin.” (Ultimate Classic Rock)

Most experts believe Peterson’s lack of experience in the storm conditions and the plane’s instrument panel contributed to the crash. Holly’s wife of only six months had a miscarriage when she heard the news.

“In March 1980, a long-missing piece of the plane crash was discovered. Holly’s signature black-rimmed glasses had landed in a snow bank and were discovered in the spring of 1959 [buried in the snow]. They were brought to the Cerro Gordo County Sheriff’s office, sealed in a manila envelope and forgotten about for 21 years. Upon discovery, the glasses were returned to his widow [Maria Elena Santiago] and are currently on permanent display at the Buddy Holly Center in his hometown of Lubbock, Texas.” (Ultimate Classic Rock)

(See “The Day the Music Died: Crash Site Photo Archive” for more images of the crash. )

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Exquisite Excerpt from “Captain Wentworth’s Persuasion”

Posted on March 31, 2014 by Regina Jeffers

Exquisite Excerpt – Captain Wentworth’s Persuasion: Austen’s Classic Retold Through His Eyes

JeffersCWP2This excerpt comes from one of my earliest titles: Captain Wentworth’s Persuasion. It is told from the Wentworth’s point of view and uses flashbacks to set the story. In the beginning, Anne Elliot and Frederick Wentworth have married. They are aboard his ship, The Resolve, and he is leading his men in pursuit of a French ketch. The book’s cover is a Joshua Reynolds’ painting, entitled “Captain Robert Orme.” As I have recently rereleased this title in both eBook and print format, I thought I might pique your interest.  I will share another excerpt from the re-release later this week. 

Chapter 1

By day or night, in weal or woe,

That heart, no longer free,

Must bear the love it cannot show,

And silent ache for thee.

Lord Byron,“On Parting”

“I have you, Captain!” the midshipman cried. “I require assistance over here!” the youth screamed over the turmoil on the deck, as he attempted to support the weight of the slumped-over officer, who clung to his exhausted frame.

Captain Frederick Wentworth had recognized the danger of pursuing the retreating French sloop, but he had also recognized the urgency of keeping the French from reaching reinforcements and from taking English secrets straight to Bonaparte’s pocket. He made the decision to take the French vessel despite the facthis wife traveled aboard ‘The Resolve’ with him and his crew. He had ordered his men to seize the enemy craft. “Above all else, her crew cannot escape,” he instructed; the British had no reason to permit the French to live. The countries, after all, were at war.

For two days, Wentworth’s ship chased the French craft. In truth, he admired how the smaller French ship skimmed the water, attempting to evade his best efforts to overtake the ketch. Frederick initiated his favorite maneuver in stopping his enemy-full broadsides, a lesson he learned from the tales of the infamous Blackbeard. ‘The Resolve’ caught the French ship during the night, and dawn brought his enemy the knowledge it faced the full force of the British Navy, one of the finest to sail the seas.

* * *

Anne Wentworth smiled lovingly at her husband as he ordered her below deck. He meant to protect her from the worst of the battle. Frederick Wentworth possessed a natural charisma; his men had sworn to follow him anywhere, and she knew the truth of those declarations. A strong, formidable man, his intense eyes told the world he would tolerate nothing less than success. He made few errors in his choices, reasoning things out carefully before he made a decision. He lived for the adventure of the sea, but he was her Frederick, a practical man who had accomplished his dreams by organizing the chaos of his mind. She touched the weathered lines of his face with her fingertips before lightly brushing his lips with hers.

“You will be safe, my Love,” he said as he cupped her chin in the palm of one large hand.

“Of course, I am safe,” Anne insisted, realizing he feared for her comfort. “You are the captain of ‘The Resolve’; we are all safe under your command.” She captured his large hand in her two smaller ones and kissed his the before releasing him. “Now, do what you must do, Frederick. I will be well.” With that, she left him. Only when she was certain that he could no longer see her did she look back. He had turned away to load his gun. Knowing the strong possibility of hand-to-hand combat when the British boarded the sloop, Anne fought the shiver of dread simmering down her spine.

* * *

Wentworth glanced at her retreating form as she headed for the protection of the lower levels of the ship. He had loved her from the first time he had looked upon her countenance; only her beautiful expression brought him peace. In that moment long ago, he had set his sights on his Anne. Although it had taken nearly nine years for him to win her, he could say he regretted the wait. Anne Elliot Wentworth epitomized the things to which Frederick Wentworth aspired: acceptance and love. His lovely wife had overlooked his common origins; she had seen the man he was, and he had sworn to prove to her aristocratic world she had not taken a step down with her choice of a husband. Anne Wentworth symbolized why he fought this war against the French emperor.

Some day, he hoped to purchase an estate close to the shoreline, especially for her. They would live there when he finally cashed in his commission from the service or at the end of the war. Anne, the daughter of a baronet, deserved the best he could provide her. Frederick had lost her once, when youth demanded they make decisions not their own. Anne belonged to him now, and he loved her beyond reason. Soon they would take their place in society and start a family. He smiled as the image played before him, and he enjoyed the dream of family before he reluctantly turned his attention to the other ship and prepared to strike at his country’s enemy.

Wentworth felt the distant vibration as ‘The Resolve’ ran out its guns. The ship readied itself for an assault. When he placed a spyglass to his eye, he saw the French scrambling to respond to the surprise encounter. Older seamen shouted orders, but Frederick recognized the confusion and the dismay upon the younger sailors’ faces. His men, on the other hand, stood their positions on the deck, awaiting the inevitable. His crew had kept a determined silent vigil throughout the night, using the darkness to overtake the French.

With a nod of his head, Wentworth ordered his men to their stations. The gun ports were all pointed directly at the French warship, and shots rang out. He watched with satisfaction as the enemy’s sails crashed to the deck. As the smoke cleared, he could readily see the gaping hole in the enemy’s starboard tack. But the French powder magazines did not explode. “What the devil?” he muttered. The sloop’s mizzenmast lay in multiple pieces on the deck. With the longboats in the water, Wentworth knew the French would fight, but he also knew he had managed another capture. Along with it would come the financial reward that would secure his future with Anne. Everything he had ever wanted was within his grasp, but first he must weather the chaos of the battle.

Beside him, a sailor called to his partner, “We’ll not be waiting!”

“They’ll not surrender peacefully,” a lieutenant cautioned his men.

“They’re daft!” a man with a knife held tightly between his teeth hissed to the others gathering on the deck. A fierce curse sounded from the crow’s nest above his head as Wentworth placed a rolled-up map in his assistant’s hand.

He maneuvered ‘The Resolve’ alongside the captured ship, readying to board her officially and claim her in the name of the Crown. Then, the unexpected, the unthinkable arrived in the form of a red hot strike. A single shot rang out, and the heat seared through his side. Surprised, he examined the bloody opening in his jacket. How? he wondered as he slumped forward into the arms of the nearest midshipman. He was not close enough to the French ship for a French sailor to deliver such a blow. Instinctively, he raised his eyes to his attacker. The man, wearing a leather-fringed jacket and a floppy-brimmed hat, held a long rifle. Frederick recognized it as one American privateers used often to fight off personal attack. It was a superior weapon to the Baker rifle used by Wellington’s men in the rifle units. It had the distance the single-shot .60 musket, known as the Brown Bess, that the British carried did not. “Give that to your good King George!” he heard the man’s voice exclaim before British sailors surrounded him.

Frederick’s pain came not from his French enemy but from an American assisting Bonaparte’s Navy. He could hear the air gurgle in his throat as he sank to his knees. The pain and the fire radiated throughout his chest as he sprawled upon his back, allowing his eyes to search the thin, smoky air for the blue sky with streaks of sunlight opening a new day. “Anne,” he murmured as another  midshipman cradled his head.

“Assistance is on its way, Captain. Just stay with us,” the man gasped through clenched teeth. Frederick could feel the man’s fear, and it enflamed his own.

Shipmates rushed to lift his frame onto a net stretcher before carrying him to his quarters. As they settled him on the bed, Laraby, the surgeon assigned to the ship, rushed in, hustling various sailors from the room. “Get me plenty of rum!” the doctor demanded.

“Yes, Sir,” one of the lieutenants snapped as he darted from the room.

Wentworth groaned deeply as another officer assisted the surgeon in removing Frederick’s jacket. Throughout, he told himself he could not die. He told himself he had waited for Anne, and he would not leave her behind. The physician cut the shirt away from the wound and began to clear away the seeping blood. “Easy, Captain,” the surgeon cautioned him. “Allow me to see what we have here.”

His eyes searched Laraby’s countenance for evidence of the severity of his wound. “The bullet tore a zigzag path through part of your lower abdomen, Sir. There is quite a bit of damage. The good news is the bullet exited out your side. I must sew you up, but you will not require surgery.”

Frederick nodded his understanding. “Where is my wife?” Seeing Anne would be the only medicine he required.

“I will retrieve her, Captain,” one of the junior officers said. His pale countenance said he sight of all the blood had taken its toll on the man.

“I am giving you some laudanum.” The surgeon assisted the first officer to ease Wentworth to a resting position onto the bed.

“Might I have some rum?” Wentworth’s mouth had gone dry.

The surgeon mouth turned up in a “I knew it to be so” grin. “That is the reason I ordered it.” He supported Frederick’s head as he sipped the heady brew.

Just as the surgeon set the glass upon the table, Anne rushed into the room, shoving those standing about from her way. “Frederick,” she said, whispering his name close to his ear as she brushed the hair from his eyes. “I am here, my Love.” She interlaced her fingers with his.

With an effort, he squeezed her hand and opened his eyes to hers. “I require an angel watching over me,” he whispered as she lowered her mouth to brush his lips lightly with hers.

“Nothing can keep us apart-nothing ever again. I am here, Frederick. Allow the surgeon to do his work. ‘In sickness and in health,’” she murmured before kissing his temple.

Their eyes held. He felt the laudanum take effect. His lids closed, but Anne’s image remained with him.

* * *

Commander Frederick Wentworth made his way across Somerset. The sway of the public carriage along the uneven roadway reminded him of the rolling motion of the sea; at least, it did as long as he kept his eyes closed. When he had opened them an hour or so earlier, the grandmotherly woman sitting across the way had questioned him about the war and about his prospects. He assumed she had an eligible female somewhere in her family, but Frederick had no intention of pursuing the subject. When he chose a wife, it would be a woman with whom he could share his hopes and dreams, one who would recognize his potential. So he had closed his eyes again, feigning sleep and imagining he strode the decks of his own ship.

Passing through Uppercross, he finally allowed himself the pleasure of looking at the rolling countryside, which was peppered with herds of sheep and Brinny  cattle grazing in the fields. His brother, Edward, resided as the curate at Monkford, and Frederick planned to spend part of his leave with his family. Quiet time was a pleasant prospect after the action he had seen of late. Although he had not been with his sister’s husband, Benjamin Croft, and with Nelson as they defeated Admiral Vileneuve at Trafalgar, Frederick had seen his share of battles and had won his share of the prize money. Like Benjamin, he expected to use the war with the French emperor to make his fortune. Thoughts of his sister brought Frederick a pang of loneliness; Sophia and Benjamin shared a rare love. “Someday,” he silently whispered. “Someday, I will turn my head…”

The slowing of the horses interrupted his thoughts. “Uppercross!” the driver shouted. “Changing horses!”

Frederick disembarked from the carriage and looked around. People hurried forth and back at the posting inn. Knowing he had had not much farther to go, he chose only to stretch his legs in the inn yard rather than spend his hard-earned money on libation inside the crowded tavern.

“How much time?” he inquired of the groom as the man unhitched the horses.

“More than a quarter hour…less than a half hour,” the man responded. The driver leaned over the edge to accept the mail pouch from the innkeeper.

Frederick looked at the  village, which was a smattering of houses and shops. “I will take a short walk. Stretch my legs,” he told the driver as he started away toward the village.

The driver called to his retreating form, “We will not wait!”

Frederick did not turn his head in response. He just raised his hand to let the man know he had heard the warning. Uppercross, a moderate-sized village, was designed in the old English style. He passed a gate, which led to a house, substantial and unmodernized, of superior appearance, especially when compared to those of the yeomen and laborers. With its high walls, great gates, and old trees, Frederick envisioned a veranda, French windows, and other prettiness, quite likely to catch the traveler’s eye.

Strolling along the wooden walkways, he paused only to look in some of the shop windows. Seeing a fan on display, which he knew Sophia would love, he smiled. On impulse, he entered the shop; he would purchase the fan as a surprise for his sister. He would leave it with Edward to mail to her for her birthday. It would surprise the highly critical Sophia to know her seafarer brother had planned for her birthday long before the actual event.

Frederick chose the item and then, having paid for it, turned to leave; but he could not depart, for the shop’s door swung open suddenly, and two ladies swept into the room. The first, a very handsome woman, dominated the space. A strong French perfume wafted over him as he allowed his eyes to assay her beauty. Her hair was nearly black, her eyes were brown, and her long nose had a distinctly aristocratic slant. Belatedly, Frederick offered her a polite bow as she brushed past him, barely acknowledging his presence. “Miss Elliot!” he heard the shopkeeper say, his voice suddenly very alert.  

Frederick had seen the type before. Usually, he preferred to avoid women of high Society,  finding most of them too consumed with their petty interests to be worth his time. Let them spend their days gossiping and shopping;  he preferred a woman with an elegance of mind, a woman with a sweetness of character.

He stepped away from the domineering Miss Elliot and turned toward the door; his carriage would be leaving soon. The second woman remained by the entry, and he started to move around her; but she raised her eyes to his. Frederick froze. Her delicate features and mild, dark eyes mesmerized him in an instant. For some reason, she did not look away, and neither did he. Instead, he stood before her, gazing down into her doe like eyes, watching them darken and sparkle and wondering if she could feel the fire burning in him. She flushed and raised her slim, slightly square jaw a bit; her ramrod-straight back made her appear taller than she was. In fact, she barely reached his shoulder. She said nothing, simply continued to look deeply into his eyes. Frederick found himself unexpectedly amused by the situation, and one eyebrow shot up.

“Come, Anne,” the other woman demanded, and Frederick saw a flash of embarrassment played across the stranger’s cheeks. She ducked her head, allowing her bonnet to shadow her features once again.

“Pardon me,” he said, choking out the words; his throat suddenly very dry. He desperately wanted to say more to her, but she had slipped away to her companion, who was perusing the latest fashion plates.

Frederick opened the door to depart, but he could not resist the urge to look upon the woman one more time. His heart skipped a beat as she raised her head. She presented him with a quick smile before turning her attention to folds of fabric. Frederick paused; the faint smell of lavender surrounded him. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Closing the shop’s door and returning to the walkway, he murmured, “Beautiful.” It was a singular moment, one he would not soon forget.CFWP Crop2

Posted in book excerpts, British history, Great Britain, Industry News/Publishing, Jane Austen, Napoleonic Wars, Regency era, Ulysses Press, White Soup Press | Tagged , , , , , , | 2 Comments

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

Posted on March 26, 2014 by Regina Jeffers

by Regina Jeffers

As part of JASNA’s salute to Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibilityin 2011, this will be a two-part look of the 1995 film adaptation. Next month (April 14), we will examine the “making” of Edward Ferras and Colonel Brandon. This month, however, I wanted to explore the many non-Austen “creations” added to this film. I do not do so as criticism, but more out of the awareness that, for many people, film adaptations are all they know of the story line. This piece will also point out how Emma Thompson, as the screenwriter, added “bits” to introduce the modern audience to the dire situation in which women of Austen’s time often found themselves.

Prior to the 1995 production, there were three other film versions of Sense and Sensibility. On June 4, 1950, Philco Television Playhouse produced a one-hour adaptation starring Madge Evans as Elinor and Cloris Leachman as Marianne. In 1971, Ciaran Madden (Marianne), Robin Ellis (Edward), and Joanna David (Elinor) were seen in four 50-minute episodes on the BBC (January 3, 10, 17, 24). That screen play was written by Denis Constanduros, who used much of it again for the 1981 version, which was seen on the BBC in seven 30-minute episodes from February 1 through March 14, 1981. This version, starring Irene Richards as Elinor and Tracey Childs as Marianne, had one advantage over the 1971 adaptation. It was shot on location rather than on studio sets.
  • One of the most obvious “twists” to the original Austen is the way that the film creates “sensitive” male characters. This is not a new phenomenon. Film adaptations of Austen’s males often project qualities on the characters, which are not found in the text. For example, Colonel Brandon is excessively attentive to his adoptive daughter Eliza. He also expresses his compassion in dealing with Marianne’s impulsive nature and with the Dashwoods’ situation.
  • Edward is seen as being a sensitive male. He refuses Margaret’s room; he plays games with Margaret.
  • The film also highlights a greater disparity between the male characters from the novels. We have repeatedly seen the strong, dependable male (Darcy, Wentworth, etc.) vs. the sociable, but very unreliable male (Wickham, Mr. Elliot, etc.). Brandon and Willoughby continue that cinematic storytelling. In fact, Brandon is actually given some of qualities that Austen bestowed upon Willoughby. In the novel, Willoughby comes to Cleveland while Marianne is ill. He eloquently expresses his regrets to Elinor. We never see this in the film, which allows Alan Rickman’s Brandon to become a more acceptable mate for Marianne, especially to a modern audience who might otherwise object to the differences in their ages.
  • By the way, did you notice that Willoughby rides a white horse, and Brandon rides a black one? What happened to the tried and true signals for viewers to know a man’s personality by the horse he rides?
  • In the novel’s end, Marianne appears subdued and malleable. Whereas, the film maintains the concept of “equality” in Brandon’s and Marianne’s relationship.
  • Brandon does the same thing as Willoughby – just not as well. This helps with the transfer of the audience’s affections to Colonel Brandon. For example, Willoughby carries Marianne to Barton Cottage; Brandon carries her to Cleveland.  Both men give her flowers, but Willoughby has chosen wild flowers to those which are cultivated. Willoughby recites poetry to Marianne. Brandon reads to her from “The Faerie Queene.” In the novel, Willoughby shares Marianne’s interest in music; Brandon possesses that quality in the film.
  • The role of Margaret is expanded greatly from Austen’s description of the child as a “good-humored, well-disposed girl.” Margaret Dashwood is given the “freedoms” that her sisters can never have. She speaks her mind. She chooses a future of her own (a pirate). Margaret is the device by which Edward is revealed to the viewer. Her character is also the source of much of the film’s humor.
  • The happiness of the wedding scene reminded me of Emma Thompson’s ex-husband’s staging of the ending of Much Ado About Nothing.The coins tossed into the air are much like the procession and flower petals of the Shakespeare remake.
  • The characters of Lady Middleton and her children are omitted from the film, as well as Lucy’s sister Nancy. The latter plays a pivotal role in the novel because it is she who “spills the beans” about Lucy’s engagement to Edward. Of course, Lucy whispering that secret to Fanny in the film leads to a most hilarious scene, so maybe Nancy was not necessary.
  • Instead of visiting Barton Cottage (per the novel), Edward sends Margaret the atlas and an apologetic letter.
  • In the novel, Lucy and Robert’s marriage comes as a complete surprise, but the movie previews their joining when Robert shows his preference for her at the London ball.
  • The movie omits the scene from the novel where Marianne says that Elinor cannot understand the anguish of losing someone because Elinor has Edward’s love.
  • Brandon sends Marianne a pianoforte. In the book, she already has one.
  • In the novel, Edward never hints of his engagement, but, in the film, he tries to tell Elinor in the scene taking place in the stable.
  • Explanatory scenes are required for a modern audience; therefore, we see Elinor telling Margaret why John and Fanny now own Norland. We see the promise that John made to Henry Dashwood to “do something” for his sisters. We see John and Fanny “reduce” what the Dashwoods should receive. Austen would have no need to tell her readers these central facts. Elinor tells Edward, “Except you will inherit your fortune. We cannot even earn ours.” That line is a reminder to modern viewers of a woman’s fate. Unfortunately, it is lessened by Edward’s reference to playing pirate with Margaret. “Piracy is our only option.”
  • Probably the most glaring change to Austen’s novel is Marianne’s walk in the rain to view Combe Magna, which was supposedly 30 miles from Cleveland. In the book, Marianne becomes ill despite her refusing to go out in the rain.

  • Hugh Laurie’s character of Mr. Palmer is also greatly expanded. His dry humor reminds one of his current character of “House,” but Laurie is well known for other comedic stints. Mr. Palmer, of the film, is not just the censorious man we meet in the book. The film shows him as kind and considerate. He carries Marianne upstairs after Brandon brings her to Cleveland. He is upset that he must leave the Dashwoods to fend for themselves during Marianne’s illness. The film also displays how mismatched the Palmers are in marriage.
Austen’s film adaptations tend to focus on contemporary post feminist ideas. Period dramas, as a genre, invite the viewers to take on the rich features of the novel. Yet, no film can reproduce the nuances and exquisite details of the text. For 135 minutes, Sense and Sensibility allows us to explore Jane Austen’s first novel in a visual format. Does it have its strengths? Absolutely! Are there weaknesses? Profoundly so. Tell me what you think, Austen addicts. I will check in periodically to respond to your comments.
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Starling Murmurations in Somerset

Posted on March 25, 2014 by Regina Jeffers

Starling Murmurations in Somerset

By Regina Jeffers

starlings5_small

starling12One of the most spectacular examples starlings1_smallof British wildlife are Starling Murmurations. Thousands of starlings flocking together to form swirling balls can be found in Somerset each year from early autumn to February. The birds form the flying spheres before swooping down and roosting in the trees.

One of the best places to see this visual feast is the westhay12Somerset’s Wildlife Trust’s Westhay Moor National Nature Reserve, shapwick12Natural England’s Shapwick Heath National Nature Reserve, and RSPB Ham Wall Reserve, all on the Somerset Levels, close to Glastonbury, Street and Wedmore.
To find out exactly where the starlings are at any given time, one can ring the Avalon Marshes Starling Hotline on 07866 554 142 or email http://www.blogger.com/starlings@rspb.org.uk.
A fabulous site, loaded with lots of pictures of the murmurations is http://visitsomerset.co.uk/site/explore-somerset/countryside/starling-murmurations. levels12
Posted in Living in the UK | Tagged , | 1 Comment

Movie Discussion of “Clueless,” the Modern Version of Jane Austen’s “Emma”

Posted on March 24, 2014 by Regina Jeffers

Movie Discussion – Clueless

In 1996, Douglas McGrath’s Emma, featuring Gwyneth Paltrow hit the big screen. That same year, Diarmuid Lawrence and Andrew Davies’s small scree version starred Kate Beckinsale. Both offered cinematic reconstructions of the Regency era. Both were faithful adaptations of the time.

In contrast, Amy Heckerling’s Clueless brings the classic tale of a misguided matchmaker into the modern realm. Hecklerling relies heavily on the formula “screwball comedies” of prior decades to tell the tale. What is more ironic is the fact that Clueless, the current day offering, highlights the role of women in society as having less options than does the more traditional films. In Heckerling’s adaptation, women lack empowerment. However, if I asked opinions, most people today would say that “empowerment” was a very modern trait.

So, how does this film match up with the original story line? The comparisons and contrasts are many, indeed, but here are a few of the more obvious.
** To create Emma’s point of view, which readers recognize from the novel, Heckerling used Cher’s first person voice over. This allows the viewer to experience Cher’s perception of the events and contrast those perceptions with the actual details.

** Both the novel and the film stress paternal wealth. The heroine’s “identity” is tied closely to this wealth. This transfer of the traditional image of a woman being tended to by her father’s fortune takes on a non-traditional slant in Clueless. What are Cher’s options in a modern world? Hecklerling ignores those possibilities and keeps Cher tied to her father’s identity.
** Mr. Woodhouse’s health remains an issue in both. The man is preoccupied with his digestive system.
** Class differences in the original story line become issues of racial and sexual tolerance in Clueless. “Harriet Smith” is portrayed as a transfer student whose experiences with drugs and relationships is more intensive than other students at the school. “Frank Churchill’s” character is a homosexual.
** Cher, like Austen’s Emma, misconstrues Christian’s (Frank Churchill’s) intentions. In Clueless, Cher sends herself flowers to make Christian jealous. She is creating an image to attract the boy, but she ignores the images which scream of Christian’s sexual orientation.
** Matchmaking is the central theme of both the novel and the film. In Clueless, Cher’s efforts are centered on Miss Geist, the spinster teacher, and Tai, the transfer student.
** Emma and Cher both serve as the mistress of their fathers’ houses. Cher, like Emma, is accustomed to having her own way. Mr. Woodhouse finds Emma’s manipulations endearing.
** Knightley’s family connection is amplified in Clueless because “Josh” is Cher’s step brother. In the Regency period, in laws would take the familiar titles of “brother” or “sister.” It is important that Emma stresses to Knightley and that Cher reassures Josh that they are NOT brother and sister. In both story lines, romantic feelings requires that the participants ignore family ties.
** Clueless does not end with Josh declaring himself for Cher, but Cher does catch the bouquet at Miss Geist’s wedding, insinuating her eventual marriage.
** Elton requests a copy of Tai’s photo. He also attempts to kiss Cher when he drives her home from a party. This plot device closely follows the original story line.

What other comparisons/contrasts might we make? Add your comments below. (For an interesting read on the subject, take a look at “Popular Culture and the Comedy of Manners: Clueless and Fashion Clues” by Maureen Turim.)

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Victorian Happenings: The Disaster of the “Princess Alice”

Posted on March 20, 2014 by Regina Jeffers

A full capacity of passengers boarded the paddle steamer, the Princess Alice, on 3 September 1878 – many were on holiday, including a school children, as well as a party of invalids in wheel chairs, who were to partake of a breath of ozone at Sheerness. The journey down stream was uneventful, but things changed with the return trip. At each of the boarding stops, many day trippers pleaded for permission to board the already crowded steamer. A few hundred were squeezed onboard. Captain William Grinstead turned away many more. The return should have taken two hours; they were to set in at Woolwich Pier and the Old Stairs landing-stage by London Bridge – a 30 mile journey from the idyllic countryside to London’s “Smoke.”

The Princess Alice was a wooden paddle steamer, some 220 feet long and 35 feet wide. The 251 tons vessel belonged to the London Steamboat Company, having been built in Greenock in 1856. The Princess Alice had been a favorite of the day trippers and of those who followed the popular sailing barge races. These enthusiasts often hired the Princess Alice to follow in the wake of their favourite Spritty. The steamer had also once carried the Shad of Persia and was sometimes known as the “Shah’s Boat.” (The River Thames Police Museum)

In the mid 1850s, “International Law” had determined that steamship should follow specific rules of navigation when at sea: One such rule required they pass each other port side to port side. Unfortunately, these rules were not enforced on the River Thames. “Economics alone ruled. Time and money without consideration for such a regulation, forced shallow craft ‘punching the tide’ to short-shore; that is to cut the corners using a straight line from point to point or ness, and so passing across both shipping lanes. Of course, if there was no traffic coming in the opposite direction when carrying out the economy, it was all right. This not only reduced the distance considerably, but also permitted easier progress in the lee of each ness where the tide was less strong. Vessels traveling ‘with the tide’ used the middle of the river were the tide was fiercest and beneficial, and as navigation with the following tide was less accurate, safer. What was about to happen, or, on the minds of those controlling the Princess Alice that fateful evening is unknown; for most who did know, did not live to tell the tale.” (The River Thames Police Museum)

The Princess Alice approach was on the Kent or south-shore, coming up Barking Reach and passing Tripcock Point into Galleons Reach. Traveling down the centre of Galleons Reach was an empty collier in ‘ballast,’ journeying back to Newcastle. “With a high freeboard the Bywell Castle, an iron built screw-ship of 890 tons, 256 feet in length. Captained by master Mariner and part owner Thomas Harrison and controlled by a qualified pilot, Christopher Dix, had sailed from Millwall Dock at about 1830 at high water – on the turn of the tide – running seawards at half speed with it. The crew on the collier’s bridge saw the Princess Alice across the low headland as she rounded the point on their starboard hand, both vessels had their navigation lights on, so the paddler would at that moment be showing a red (port) light, and they a green (starboard) navigation light on the other vessel. Although it was not obvious at that angle to guess which shore the paddler was navigating, the collier was mid river. Shipping was light and the river about half a mile wide at that point; there appeared to be, and was, plenty of room for them to pass safely. The Bywell Castle‘s bridge party assumed at the time that the two vessels would pass according to the ‘International Law.'”

At a speed of about 18 knots (20 mph) the vessels meant to pass each other, with the Princess Alice to pass “across the bow of the collier towards the Essex shore, her correct station before straightening up into Galleons Reach.” All should have remained well, but when the Princess Alice made her turn for the Galleons Reach, she came across the bow of the collier again. It was 19:20 hours when the pilots ordered “stop engine” and then “full astern.” John Ayres, the lone survivor “from the raised walkway used as a bridge on the Princess Alice was ordered to: ‘…mind your helm, on account of the tide’ and to:  ‘correct the swing.’ Captain Grinstead standing out on the port paddle box commanded him at the last moment before impact: ‘Hard over.’

The Bywell Castle first sliced into the starboard side of the Princess Alice at the paddle-box and nearly cut her in two. The heavier collier wrapped the Princess Alice about its bow. When the collier went full astern to pry the vessels apart, the water rushed in – the boiler of the steamer burst and the weakened hull broke in two. The passengers were dumped into the Thames to find the Barking sewer had released raw sewage into the river for it to be washed away with the tide.

Estimates said that the two parts of the steamer sank within four minutes. Those who had booked cabins between the decks had no opportunity for escape. “Nearly everything went wrong, costing the lives of almost everyone aboard, passengers and crew alike. There were only two lifeboats on davits carried, no rafts or lifebelts and just a few life rings, insufficient even if there had been time to launch them correctly. The tide began bearing some would be survivors away from the collier and possible rescue, while Captain Harrison, seeing all the people in the river around his vessel had stopped his engines and had drawn the fires. He could push ahead for fear of injuring those nearby and was unable to turn the propeller through lack of steam and anyway, his engineers and stokers were in his lifeboats trying to rescue the drowning. The collier’s crew did all they could to save as many people as possible: they launched their own lifeboats; other hands on the forecastle threw lifebuoys, ladders, and lines to those struggling in the river below. Swimming had never been a popular pastime in Victorian London, and the long many petticoated dresses of women were an impossible impediment. Many apparently, just clung to their children and sank from sight.” (The River Thames Police Museum)

The majority of those losing their lives were women and children. By all estimates, 640 perished that day. Those who investigated the accident believe 86% of those on board met their Maker that day. The inquest records show the majority of those who died in the water did so with 8 minutes time lapse. The Bywell Castle eventually was able to refire its boiler and moored at Deptford. The Illustrated London News ran a double page spread showing the Princess Alice being sliced by the Bywell Castle. For some time following the accident, Captain Harrison was looked upon as the culprit of the disaster.

Many bodies could not be identified, and those were washed and shrouded and placed in a mass grave. The Princess Alice’s sinking led to public outcry for new regulations. In addition to the proper passage, all passenger carrying vessels must stand for inspection and earn an annual license to operate. Qualified men must pilot the ship and the number of passengers is limited, with sufficient lifeboats and rafts available. On the Thames today, certain types of vessels are forbidden on specific stretches of the water.  Unfortunately, although exonerated by the inquest, Captain Harrison faced continued public contempt. He suffered a breakdown and never sailed again.

For further information, consult The Great Thames Disaster by Galvin Thurston.

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