Jane Austen and the Lottery Craze, a Guest Post from Nancy Lawrence

This post originally appeared on Austen Authors on 20 July 2019. Enjoy! 

In her unfinished novel Sanditon, Jane Austen introduced the character of Mr. Parker by describing his love for the sea-side town of Sanditon in this manner:

Sanditon was a second wife and four children to him, hardly less dear, and certainly more engrossing. He could talk of it forever. It had indeed the highest claims; not only those of birthplace, property and home; it was his mine, his lottery, his speculation and his hobby horse; his occupation, his hope and his futurity.

When Jane spoke of “his mine, his lottery, his speculation and his hobby horse,” she wasn’t talking about games and toys; she was specifically talking about things involving chance and risk, including lottery games similar to those we have in the U.S. today.

“Fortune assists the brave.” A goddess showers money upon lottery players in this handbill from about 1800.

In Jane Austen’s lifetime the lottery itself was government run, a fact that gave ticket-buyers a false sense of security, as did the requirement that ticket sellers be licensed or appointed by the government.

Sometimes ticket dealers were stock brokers, sometimes bankers; and sometimes the sellers were partnerships formed by businessmen, such as the firm of Hazard & Co, which created this advertisement:

Question: Would you take a chance on a lottery ticket purchased from “Hazard” & Co?

The government used the proceeds from lottery ticket sales to fund various projects. One great example is The British Museum; it had its start thanks to funding provided through the sale of lottery tickets priced at £3 each. (Interestingly, the government substantially cut players’ chances of winning by requiring that all winners be present at the time of the drawing or forfeit their prize.)

That lottery was a great success. The needed funds were raised to purchase the libraries and collections of Sir Hans Sloane and Sir Robert Cotton (which were combined to form what we know as the Harleian Library), and to purchase a suitable building in which to house the collections. The result formed the nucleus of what is now the British Museum.

Ticket sellers used all sorts of promises and lures to encourage people to risk their money on lottery tickets. This excerpt from a lottery handbill encouraged elderly spinsters to play so they could lure young husbands:

And this bill cites a Mr. J. Merone’s history of selling winning numbers, implying players might have better luck buying one of his tickets:

The 1806 handbill below—published by the aptly-named firm of Richardson Goodluck & Co.—dazzled potential ticket buyers with lists of potential cash prizes.

The unfortunate truth was that not all prizes were awarded. Sometimes, the lottery drawing resulted in a ticket “this day drawn blank,” which meant that no one won the big prize. That was the case for this lottery drawing held on December 26, 1781:

But that didn’t stop people from buying lottery tickets.

During Jane Austen’s lifetime, playing the lottery was a national craze that lasted well into the 1820s. I’ve sometimes wondered why she didn’t mention the lottery more frequently in her letters and stories; but my JAFF imagination can think up plenty of opportunities for Austen’s characters to hand over their hard-earned money for a chance at a jackpot.

Illustration for a lottery handbill designed with a Valentine’s Day theme.

Can you imagine Lydia Bennet recklessly wagering her pin money on a chance to win a lottery prize?

What about George Wickham? Do you think he would have played the lottery in hopes of making his fortune (and perhaps paying off some of his debts)? Or perhaps he might have run a lottery ticket scheme of his own.

I think it’s possible William Elliot would turn to gambling on the lottery, once he realized he had lost his cousin Anne to Captain Wentworth in Jane Austen’s Persuasion.

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What about you? Have you ever won a lottery prize?

If you’d like to know more about lottery games in England, you can read this book for free HERE:

It’s full of fun anecdotes and great illustrations.

 

Posted in British history, commerce, customs and tradiitons, Georgian England, Georgian Era, Guest Post, history, Jane Austen, Living in the Regency, Regency era, research, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Comments Off on Jane Austen and the Lottery Craze, a Guest Post from Nancy Lawrence

Regency Customs: I Won’t Dance, Don’t Ask Me ~ Using “Dance” As a Plot Device In Jane Austen’s Novels

“To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love.” (Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 3) During Austen’s time, young people looked for a potential mate at dances. Austen, herself, enjoyed a good dance, and, therefore, she often used dance as part of her plot line. In a 1798 letter to her sister Cassandra, Austen wrote, “There were twenty Dances & I danced them all, & without any fatigue.” Dancing well was a “necessary evil.” Those who trod on their partners toes (i.e., Mr. Collins) were seen as gauche. Children of the gentry learned the latest dance steps early on.

Public balls or assemblies and private balls formed the two types of formal dances. Assemblies took place in large ballrooms in market towns and cities. They were constructed for the purpose of public gatherings. One might also hold a dance in the ballrooms at country inns (as in the Crown Inn in Emma) or in formal ballrooms in large houses (as in the Netherfield Ball in Pride and Prejudice or Sir Thomas’s ball in Mansfield Park).

Occasionally, the gentry would roll up the rugs for an impromptu dance. These were more characteristic of country life.

Characters discussing “dancing” and participating in “dance” occurs often in Austen’s story lines. From Pride and Prejudice, we find, “Elizabeth Bennet had been obliged, by the scarcity of gentlemen, to sit down for two dances…

(and) “Come, Darcy,” said he, “I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance.”

(as well as) “She had known him only a fortnight. She danced four dances with him at Meryton…”

(and) “Every savage can dance.” Sir William only smiled.

(and) “You would not wish to be dancing when she is ill.”

and) “…and Elizabeth thought with pleasure of dancing a great deal with Mr. Wickham…” In fact, Austen uses “dance” eight and sixty (68) times during the story line.

_________________________

From Persuasion, the reader finds these references to “dancing.”

“The girls were wild for dancing; and the evenings ended, occasionally, in an unpremeditated little ball.”

(and) “This evening ended with dancing.”

(as well as) “Oh, no; she has quite given up dancing.”

(and) “Yes, I believe I do; very much recovered; but she is altered; there is no running or jumping about, no laughing or dancing…” There are ten (10) references to dance in Persuasion.


The reader comes across nine and forty (49) mentions of the word “dance” in Mansfield Park. We have such gems as, “…for it was while all the other young people were dancing, and she sitting, most unwillingly, among the chaperones at the fire…”

(and) “…been a very happy one to Fanny through four dances, and she was quite grieved to be losing even a quarter of an hour.”

(as well as) “…but instead of asking her to dance, drew a chair near her, and gave her an account of the present state of a sick horse…”

(and) “I should like to go to a ball with you and see you dance. Have you never any balls at Northampton? I should like to see you dance, and I’d dance with you if you would, for nobody would know who I was, and I should like to be your partner once more.

___________________________

“Dancing” is mentioned nine and sixty (69) times in Emma. “She was in dancing, singing, exclaiming spirits…”

(and) “She had suffered very much from a cramp from dancing, and her first attempt to mount the bank brought on such a return of it as made her absolutely powerless…”

(and) “Indeed I will. You have shewn that you can dance, and you know we are not really so much brother and sister as to make it at all improper.”

(as well as) “Pleasure in seeing dancing! – not I, indeed – I never look at it – I do not know who does. Fine dancing, I believe, like virtue, must be its own reward.”

___________________________

 

From Love and Friendship, one finds, “The Dancing, however, was not begun as they waited for Mis Greville.”

(and) “I soon forgot all my vexations in the pleasure of dancing and of having the most agreeable partner in the room.”

(as well as) “I can neither sing so well nor Dance so gracefully as I once did.” There are ten (10) references to “dance” in Love and Freindship.

______________________

One and twenty (21) references to “dance” appear in Sense and Sensibility. They include: “In the country, an unpremeditated dance was very allowable…”

(and) “Never had Marianne been so unwilling to dance in her life…”

(and) “They speedily discovered that their enjoyment of dancing and music was mutual…”

_______________________________

 

Seven and sixty (67) uses of “dance” can be found in Northanger Abbey. One can find, “He wants me to dance with him again, though I tell him that it s a most improper thing, and entirely against the rules.”

(and) “Oh, no; I am much obliged to you, our two dances are over; and, besides, I am tired, and do not mean to dance any more.”

My favorite quote regarding dancing comes from Northanger Abbey. In it, Henry Tilney makes a comparison between “dancing” and “matrimony.” He says, “…that in both, it is an engagement between man and woman, formed for the advantage of each; and that when once entered into, they belong exclusively to each other till the moment of its dissolution; that it is their duty, each to endeavor to give the other no cause for wishing that he or she had bestowed themselves elsewhere, and their best interest to keep their own imaginations from wandering towards the perfections of their neighbours, or fancying that they should have been better off with any one else.”

So, what are your favorite scenes in Austen’s novels that are associated with dancing? Are there other poignant Austen moments centering around dance? Please share your favorite scenes with all of us.

Posted in British history, dancing, Jane Austen, Living in the Regency, Regency era | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 22 Comments

Breaking an Engagement During the Regency + an Excerpt from MR. DARCY’S BRIDEs

A popular plot in Regency era romances is the broken engagement, but what was the truth of the situation?

Unless the gentleman involved suddenly uncovered a flaw in the morals of his lady, once a man proposed to a woman, he was expected to go through with the marriage. Sometimes engagements were called off when the lady’s father and/or guardian could not agree on the settlements with the gentleman. However, if a man jilted the one to whom he had proposed, it was thought that he found out something to speak to her low character, particularly that she had known another intimately.

The only means to save the female’s reputation was for the gentleman to marry another quickly, so quickly that the betrothed female sometimes did not even know she was jilted. The jilted person had the right to sue for breach of promise–if of age. Because betrothals and engagements were no longer enforced by the church, they were considered to rest on a man’s honor. The man could more easily jilt a female than the girl could jilt him.

“Breach of promise of marriage suits originated in the ecclesiastical courts; the Hardwicke Marriage Act, however, invalidated betrothals and forced jilted lovers to use the common law courts for redress. Lower-middle and upper-working class couples had a definite set of courtship rituals, based on their desire for respectability and their simultaneous lack of economic security. Though most couples wanted to find the companionate ideal, they also needed to have good homemakers (for men) and solid providers (for women). They indulged in middle-class sentimentality in their letters and poetry, yet their courting was less formal and unsupervised. This mixture of needs was also reflected in their motives for separating, a combination of ideological, structural and personal difficulties. There was a sustained argument over breach of promise in the later Victorian period, which showed the tensions between individualism and companionate marriage in its culture. The legal community was divided over the desirability of the suit; most judges supported it and most lawyers did not. It also divided the populace, since the lower classes were favorable, but the upper classes abhorred it. Women, too, were unable to agree, breach of promise protected them, but it also placed them in a special category that was inherently unequal. Ironically, the plaintiffs, by appealing to the patriarchal courts, proved to be strong feminists, since they refused to be passive in the face of victimization. This showed great determination, since most of the commentators on the action were hostile; breach of promise cases in fiction, in fact, were overwhelmingly negative, legitimizing the upper-class disdain for the suit and ignoring its usefulness for poorer women.” [Rice University Digital Scholarship Archives; Promises broken: Breach of promise of marriage in England and Wales, 1753-1970, Ginger Suzanne Frost, 1991]

The couple would often try to come up with some excuse that showed that the woman simply changed her mind, and she and the man agreed to part amicably. However, the “tale” told was often set aside for the rumors and gossip were much more tantalizing to repeat. More gossip and scandal stuck to female’s name than it did for the man, who was often expected to keep a mistress or have had several women’s names attached as possibilities to his; there was less blame attributed to the man unless the girl’s family entered into a counter attack to shift the blame to him or to make it appear the daughter broke the engagement. The appeal to honor was very strong. Both the Duke of Wellington and Lord Byron married women they didn’t want because they had once made the mistake of showing interest in or of discussing marriage with the women.

That is the bare bones of it–the woman generally paid the price unless the couple could successfully claim she felt they would not suit–however, how society reacted depended on the woman’s dowry and her family position. [This held true for the gentleman, as well.] If a great heiress was jilted, people would be careful not to blame her too much because they would want a chance for a son or nephew to marry her. A rich peer or a rich young man was always a good catch, and a father or guardian of the next young lady to catch his eye would make certain he made it to the altar.

A woman could cry off, but she had to be wary of being labeled a “jilt.”  (1670s term for a “loose, unchaste woman; harlot;” also “woman who gives hope then dashes it;” probably a contraction of jillet, gillet, from Middle English gille “lass, wench,”)

A man who promised marriage and cried off could be sued for breach of promise, particularly if the promise was in writing. To win such a suit, one had to prove the promise and damages. Or he might just be labeled as bad ton. There were a few cases of men winning breach of promise suits. A good reference for those cases is Broken Engagements: The Action for Breach of Promise of Marriage and the Feminine Ideal, 1800–1940, by Saskia Lettmaier; Ginger Frost; Victorian Studies, Vol. 54, No. 1 (Autumn 2011), pp. 151-153, Indiana University Press. Not everyone would sue for breach of promise for it involved there being damages (to the daughter, leaving her unable to marry), so upper class might be inclined to sweep the whole thing aside as soon as possible so the social stain might be forgotten. Either way, it was poor form. A gentleman was not to propose unless he meant to go through with it; likewise a woman should not accept unless she was certain. 

MDF eBook Cover Introducing MR. DARCY’S BRIDEs…

I much prefer the sharpest criticism of a single intelligent man to the thoughtless approval of the masses.

ELIZABETH BENNET is determined that she will put a stop to her mother’s plans to marry off the eldest Bennet daughter to Mr. Collins, the Longbourn heir, but a man that Mr. Bennet considers an annoying dimwit. Hence, Elizabeth disguises herself as Jane and repeats her vows to the supercilious rector as if she is her sister, thereby voiding the nuptials and saving Jane from a life of drudgery. Yet, even the “best laid plans” can often go awry.

FITZWILLIAM DARCY is desperate to find a woman who will assist him in leading his sister back to Society after Georgiana’s failed elopement with Darcy’s old enemy George Wickham. He is so desperate that he agrees to Lady Catherine De Bourgh’s suggestion that Darcy marry her ladyship’s “sickly” daughter Anne. Unfortunately, as he waits for his bride to join him at the altar, he realizes he has made a terrible error in judgement, but there is no means to right the wrong without ruining his cousin’s reputation. Yet, even as he weighs his options, the touch of “Anne’s” hand upon his sends an unusual “zing” of awareness shooting up Darcy’s arm. It is only when he realizes the “zing” has arrived at the hand of a stranger, who has disrupted his nuptials, that he breathes both a sigh of relief and a groan of frustration, for the question remains: Is Darcy’s marriage to the woman legal?

What if Fitzwilliam Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet met under different circumstances than those we know from Jane Austen’s classic tale: Circumstances that did not include the voices of vanity and pride and prejudice and doubt that we find in the original story? Their road to happily ever after may not, even then, be an easy one, but with the expectations of others removed from their relationship, can they learn to trust each other long enough to carve out a path to true happiness?

In this excerpt from the end of Chapter 22 and the beginning of Chapter 23, you might see how a threat of a Breach of Promise suit plays out in MR. DARCY’S BRIDEs.

“Mr. Darcy?” He turned to find Elizabeth beside him. “Although Mrs. Bennet suggested one of the clock for your arrival at Longbourn, by the time Mr. Bingley greets the community, it will be near that time. I must assist my mother so I have asked Miss Darcy to walk back to the estate with me. Mr. Bennet’s coach could not hold eight. Jane, Mary and I walked to services this morning to leave room for the others. Your sister suggested that you may wish to join us. In that manner, Miss Bennet and my sister Mary can join Mr. Bingley and Mrs. Annesley in your coach, leaving only four for Mr. Bennet’s carriage. I am a very good walker, and Miss Darcy claims to be one also. I know you to be hardy enough for the mile to Longbourn.”

He bowed to them. “It would be my pleasure.”

Darcy took a moment to whisper the arrangements in Bingley’s ear before following Elizabeth to where her father stood watching them. When Elizabeth explained her need to speak to him and Georgiana alone, Mr. Bennet declared, “I do not like this sudden interruption in our day, Lizzy.”

“Papa,” she soothed. Darcy watched as Elizabeth reasoned with her father. “We knew we could not keep the rest of the world in ignorance of my daring. It cannot be long until Mr. Collins realizes Mr. Darcy’s identity. He will report Mr. Darcy’s presence in the neighborhood to Lady Catherine. It is imperative that Mr. Darcy and I discuss how best to proceed before Mr. Collins is made known of the facts. Your cousin dines with the Lucases this afternoon. Surely Sir William will have something to say of Mr. Bingley’s and Mr. Darcy’s sudden appearance at Netherfield.”

Mr. Bennet glared at Darcy. “I do not welcome having someone force my hand.”

“At least,” Darcy said in uncompromising tones, “you can be assured a lion will do all within his power to protect his pride.”

“A lion, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked as they turned their steps toward the road leading to Longbourn.

He chuckled as he assumed his place at her side. He thought to place her hand on his arm, but Elizabeth kept her hands clasped behind her as she strolled along, and so he accepted his role as her escort. “It is a better moniker that the lap dog your father determined Bingley to be.”

Elizabeth smiled widely, and he enjoyed viewing the happy thoughts upon her face. “It is good to know Mr. Bennet’s health has returned. There were many weeks when he made no witty comments.” She squinted up at Darcy. “A lap dog is major step up from what my father calls Mr. Collins, when he thinks no one is listening. Mr. Bennet has been especially caustic in his interactions with his cousin since your aunt’s rector proposed marriage to me.”

Darcy stumbled to a halt. “He did what?”

“Proposed,” Elizabeth said with a teasing lift of her brow. “You understand, do you not, Mr. Darcy. Proposals lead to nuptials which lead to “I, William, take thee, Elizabeth.” Her smile spread across her features when she noted his lack of humor. “Mr. Collins Christian name is ‘William.’”

Georgiana giggled, and both he and Elizabeth turned to stare at his sister as if they had forgotten she accompanied them. “Lady Catherine would have Miss Elizabeth arrested if Mr. Collins delivered Lizzy to Hunsford. It would not surprise me if that was not her purpose in permitting him to come to Hertfordshire.”

Darcy warned, “You should not speak so disparagingly of our aunt.”

“Should I lie?” his sister questioned.

Elizabeth caught Georgiana’s hand. “I am honored that you meant to defend me with your speech, but I believe your brother does not wish you only to look at a person’s negative qualities. Is that not correct, Mr. Darcy?”

“Elizabeth speaks sense,” he said, but he made no further comment, for his mind could not release the idea of another man taking Elizabeth to his bed. The idea was intolerable to him!

“Moreover,” Elizabeth said on a rush when Darcy remained silent, “I refused Mr. Collins, and he is now engaged to my friend, Charlotte Lucas. If her ladyship meant to employ Mr. Collins deviously, he would not have turned his attentions so readily from me to Miss Lucas. He has written to Lady Catherine to ask for her ladyship’s approval, but to the best of my knowledge, your aunt is not in Kent.”

Georgiana looked to him. “Do you think her ladyship learned something of Anne’s presence in Scotland?”

Darcy’s expression tightened. “I pray not, but it would take little effort for our aunt to discover that Anne and Lady Lindale traveled to the Fitzwilliam property in Scotland. A few coins to a servant would bring her the necessary information. Lady Catherine thought to bring a criminal conversation suit against you,” he told Elizabeth. “But such would be Anne’s dominion, not our aunt’s, for my cousin is well past her majority. Mayhap her ladyship means to force Anne to pursue a breach of promise suit against me. Both would require Anne’s cooperation.”

“Crim…criminal conversation?” Elizabeth stammered. “That would mean she would charge that an affair occurred between us. A public accounting of our relationship would be spread in every newspaper in the land.”

Darcy did not think a judge would accept such a case, for the evidence was too sparse, but he would not guarantee that his aunt was not vindictive enough to pursue a public chastisement for his stubbornness. “I will not permit her ladyship to torment you. If she persists, I will bring a breach of promise suit against Anne. She was the one who left me at the altar. I will claim a large portion of Anne’s inheritance if that be the case.”

Tears pooled in Elizabeth’s eyes. “But your cousin is not at fault in this matter. I am. You may say you would have left the church before Miss De Bourgh appeared, but I know your nature, Mr. Darcy. You would have waited to learn of your cousin’s fate. If you bring a breach of promise suit against Miss De Bourgh, she will be termed a jilt. Her reputation will be more problematic than mine. Surely there must be another means from this debacle.”

“There is,” he said. “Marry me again. If we marry quickly, Anne will not be marked by negative gossip—just a bit of sympathy.”

Posted in book excerpts, book release, British history, Church of England, excerpt, heroines, Jane Austen, marriage, marriage customs, marriage licenses, Pride and Prejudice, Regency era, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 15 Comments

“A Taste of Peanut Butter,” Jennifer Redlarczyk’s Latest JAFF Release + a Giveaway

I read this story on Sunday evening. I must say JAFF (Jane Austen Fan Fiction) Readers will adore the HEA (happily ever after) for ODC (our dear couple). Welcome, Jen. 

 

A Taste of Peanut Butter

Welcome to A Taste of Peanut Butter where our very own Elizabeth Bennet is a contestant on a televised bake off. Our host, Regina Jeffers, has graciously opened up her blog today so that you may have a sneak peek at the first round in her competition. Gigi DuPaix, aka Georgiana Darcy, is our moderator and is ready to begin.

“Mesdames et Messieurs,” she spoke in a thick French accent. “Bon appétit, and welcome to Another Slice, our newly created show featuring ordinary people with extraordinary cooking abilities; brought to you by the Pemberley Network. For twelve consecutive weekends, we shall present to you contestants from all walks of life who will be competing here in our very own network kitchen for the coveted title of Weekend Prime Baker.” The audience applauded with enthusiasm.

“Now, if I may, let us meet our contestants along with their signature cooking ingredients. First, we have an American student who is pursuing her Master’s Degree in International Marketing here in the UK. Please welcome Mademoiselle Elizabeth Bennet.”

Elizabeth ran out from back stage, waved at the crowd, and confidently put her jar of American peanut butter on the island countertop. “Thank you all for the warm welcome and to the Pemberley Network for this extraordinary opportunity to compete. I must say that I love a challenge and shall look forward to giving you my best.” The crowd cheered as she took her place behind the first work station.

“Next, we have an executive from one of London’s most prestigious hedge funds in the Mayfair district. Please welcome, Mademoiselle Caroline Bingley.”

A tall, skinny redhead sauntered in through the kitchen door, briefly stopping to give Elizabeth a rather demeaning look. With a flip of her head and a wave of dismissal, she faced the audience with an air of triumph in accepting her applause. Decisively placing her bag of shredded coconut next to Elizabeth’s peanut butter, she boasted, “For the record, I should like all of you to know that I will not be bested by an American. I shall triumph over all other contestants with integrity and honour.”

Elizabeth was not surprised in the least by Caroline’s avowal. All morning she had been strutting around the studio, looking down at her fellow competitors and only speaking with Gigi or the three judges when she thought her comments would amaze the entire room. Elizabeth ignored Caroline’s snide remarks knowing that the proof of the pudding was in the eating, not in a lot of hot air. We shall see about that, Miss Bingley. You are about to find out that Americans are not easily intimidated, and I willingly accept your challenge.

“Our third contestant comes to us from the humble village of Meryton in Hertfordshire,” announced Gigi. “A stay-at-home mother with five children, please welcome Madame Martha Long.”

A matronly woman in her early fifties walked in with assurance carrying her container of brown sugar. “Thank you. When cooking for a family of seven, one has to stay creative but disciplined if the house is to run smoothly. I may be a simple housewife, but believe me, I rule with an iron hand and have every expectation of winning this contest.” She curtsied and took her station as the audience gave her their enthusiastic applause.

“Finalement, we have our fourth contestant, a research assistant in the Divinity School at University of Oxford, Monsieur William Collins.”

Nervously peeking through the opening to the staging area, a rather portly man with thinning hair suddenly found his courage and walked straight to the counter where he placed his tray of assorted coffees alongside the other offerings. Feeling a little more at ease, he began to orate as if he were giving a sermon.

“Madame Dupaix, please allow me to tell you and our esteemed judges how honoured I am to be here with you today. Being but a simple clergyman and university employee, it is not often that a man in my position is given the opportunity to exhibit in such a manner. I was truly astounded and humbled when I received my congratulatory letter of acceptance and know that you will not regret your decision in choosing me. While I would not purposely stoop so low as to belittle my fellow women contestants, I would like to state that being the only man in this competition gives me the advantage since everyone knows that a man’s discriminating palate and cooking instincts are superior to most.

As you can imagine we are going to have great fun at this bake off. Now let’s see…. Where does William Darcy come in? Here is the only hint I’m giving. The rest you will have to find out for yourself.

Elizabeth: Jane, You’ll never believe it, but I met a knock-down gorgeous Brit—dark hair, blue eyes, dimples and all, who just went to buy me coffee. We’re on the same flight.

Jane: What’s his name?

Elizabeth: I don’t know yet.

Jane: Whatever you do, keep those secret weapons in their box.

Elizabeth: It’s too late. He saw them when I repacked after security. I had to offer him something to eat since he helped me.

Jane: YOU are hopeless. All I can say is that men are not normal when it comes to your baking, so you had better be careful. Text me when you land.

Elizabeth: Will do.

There you have it: a small but delicious taste of my latest book. If you would like to speculate a little more, be sure to check out my Pinterest page where I have pictures for this book as well as a Regency short story which is included in my publication. I am giving away three eBook copies of A Taste of Peanut Butter. Please leave a comment to enter. The giveaway will end at midnight EDST on September 2.

Many thanks to Regina Jeffers and Every Woman Dreams for featuring me today! Jennifer Redlarczyk

Xxxx

Amazon Link: https://www.amazon.com/Taste-Peanut-Butter-Inspired-Prejudice-ebook/dp/B07WT623T7/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=A+Taste+of+Peanut+Butter+Jennifer+Redlarczyk&qid=1566769178&s=gateway&sr=8-1

Pinterest Link:  https://www.pinterest.com/jenred88/a-taste-of-peanut-butter-and-blame-it-on-the-squas/

Posted in book excerpts, book release, contemporary, contemporary romance, eBooks, excerpt, Guest Post, Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, romance, Vagary, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 30 Comments

Loving Mr. Bennet, a Guest Post from Jann Rowland

This post originally appeared on Austen Authors on June 26, 2019. Enjoy! 

I’ve always liked Mr. Bennet as a character in Pride and Prejudice. He’s sarcastic and funny, he provides several priceless moments, and is Elizabeth’s true supporter, sometimes in direct confrontation with his wife. I am well aware that in looking after her daughters’ needs (i.e. wishing to see them married) Mrs. Bennet feels like she is killing two birds with one stone, but I’ve always thought her motives were primarily selfish—in securing her daughters’ futures, she’s really securing her own. Mr. Bennet, however, is more focused on what is best for Elizabeth.

One thing that’s always surprised me, however, is that Mr. Bennet is as beloved a character as he is. I’ve had several conversations with other people who also claim to enjoy him as a character, and only few who disagree. To be honest, I’ve always wondered why that ratio did not swing the other way. Let’s face it, Mr. Bennet is actually a bit of an ass. Let’s dig a little into his character.

In many ways, Mr. Bennet is a reprehensible character. Among his faults are:

  • Sarcasm, if used correctly, is altogether acceptable, and by that, I mean it’s not directed toward someone in a mean way. Mr. Bennet is a master of sarcasm, and all too often, it’s directed at his youngest daughters and, more often, his wife. The fact that his wife is not really able to understand a lot of his witticisms is not a mitigating factor—though Mrs. Bennet is a twit, I’m sure she frequently understands that he’s making fun of her, even if she doesn’t understand what he’s saying. In modern terms, this could be called a form of emotional abuse.
  • Mr. Bennet’s neglect of his family beyond dispute. Other than Elizabeth, and occasionally Jane, he doesn’t have time for any of his daughters, except to make fun of them. This neglect, of course, culminates in Lydia’s elopement and the near ruin of his family. They are saved from this calamity, not because of Mr. Bennet, but almost in spite of him. And while he does vow to do better, his attempts consist of telling Kitty she won’t be out for ten years, and a few words about soldiers in a raised voice.
  • Mr. Bennet takes no thought for the family’s eventual support until he is forced to do so. His excuse is that he expected to father a son to provide for his daughters and widow. This, again, is Mr. Bennet taking the easy way out, as he would simply pass the burden to a son. It’s also short-sighted, as without dowries, the girls face a difficult time attracting a husband, and if unable to do so, would leave them dependent upon their brother, who would likely come to see them as a burden.
  • Furthermore, the family’s situation is truly desperate. We are told Mr. Bennet has to watch his wife or she will exceed his income, and yet, if he passed away early, he would leave his wife and daughters homeless, to attempt to subsist on an income of £200, when they would be accustomed to ten times that amount. There was a reason why Mrs. Bennet feared genteel poverty, though her way of showing it is reprehensible.
  • The younger girls are allowed to run wild. As the master of the house, Mr. Bennet possesses the power to compel obedience and teach good behavior, but he allows his wife to teach the girls when she’s clearly not equipped to do so. This makes it doubly difficult for the girls to attract good suitors—not only would a man not wish to marry a woman who will embarrass him, many would not wish to marry a woman whose sisters might do so, to say nothing of eventually having to support them.

By these accounts, Mr. Bennet’s faults are heavy, indeed. But do not despair, for Mr. Bennet also possesses may sterling qualities, though they are not all shown in proper ways. Consider the following:

  • Mr. Bennet is a good provider. You can look at this as both a negative and a positive, but he rarely forbids his girls anything, and they always have everything they require. The girls are always dressed well, have been given a good home and a good life which, though of the lower gentry, would have been the envy of the majority of those who lived at that time.
  • Within the Bennet family, Mr. Bennet plays the role of Elizabeth’s protector. Mrs. Bennet and Elizabeth have never seen eye to eye. She is habitually critical of her second eldest daughter and would have forced her into a disastrous marriage with Mr. Collins if she had her way. And no one can forget the memorable line from Mr. Bennet on the occasion: “An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if you do.” Knowing his daughter as he does, he knows what will make her happy and what will not. He truly is her protector.
  • Mr. Bennet is an intelligent man, and the one daughter of his who could share in his intellect, he made certain she learned as much as she wished. I’ve always thought Mr. Bennet would have been better suited to be a university professor or a researcher, though I suppose we’re never really told where his literary tastes tend. Regardless, it’s clear he’s not really cut out to be a landowner, as he can’t bother himself with the estate’s maintenance. But he certainly is a smart man.
  • Though his methods of dealing with his wife are not always laudable, Mr. Bennet does not descend to some of the behaviors which were common in his day. He does not have a mistress (though we’re not told directly, I am confident we can infer this), so he doesn’t go looking elsewhere to satisfy needs Mrs. Bennet cannot meet. He also does not physically mistreat his wife. Let’s face it—being married to a woman like Mrs. Bennet would drive most around the twist! There is a counter argument there, but the fact that he does none of these things, though society would not have condemned him if he did, is a point in his favor.

Regardless of these facts, it seems the majority of the fandom appreciates Mr. Bennet’s good points, while recognizing those which are not so laudable. He’s a flawed character, but somehow we love him all the more for it. Then again, who wants to read books about perfect people? It’s a character’s weakness that makes them interesting! The reason I often tend toward writing variations where Mr. Bennet is a little changed or rises to the occasion, is because I do like him as a character and would like to see him realize a little more of the potential that lurks under his sardonic exterior. Thanks for reading!

Posted in Austen Authors, family, Georgian England, Georgian Era, Guest Post, Jane Austen, Living in the Regency, marriage, Pride and Prejudice, reading, reading habits, Regency era, Regency romance, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , | Comments Off on Loving Mr. Bennet, a Guest Post from Jann Rowland

Colours of the Regency

LastWomanStanding3x5   In my novella, “Last Woman Standing,” which is to be a part of a Christmas anthology, the heroine’s father is a horticulturalist. He has an unusual monkey flower species called the “Calico” in the book. In case you are interested, here is what the website Calscape says of the flower: “Mimulus pictus is a species of monkey flower known by the common name calico monkey flower. It is endemic to central California, where it is known only from the southernmost Sierra Nevada and adjacent Tehachapi Mountains in Tulare and Kern Counties. It grows in forest and woodland habitat, in open, bare, rocky, and often disturbed areas. This is an annual herb growing in a small patch at ground level or erect to a maximum height of about 38 centimeters. The stem is hairy and rectangular in cross-section. The oppositely arranged leaves are somewhat oval in shape and up to 4.5 centimeters long. The tubular base of the flower is encapsulated in a dark reddish calyx of sepals with uneven lobes. The five-lobed flower has a maroon throat and the circular face is white with stark maroon veining.” The last line of this description is the one that drove me a bit batty while describing the flower in the book, for “maroon” was not a termed commonly used during the Regency. It was just becoming popular at the end of the 18th Century. 

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From Dictionary. com
ma·roon1
/məˈro͞on/
adjective
adjective: maroon
  1. 1.
    of a brownish-crimson color.
    “ornate maroon and gold wallpaper”
noun
noun: maroon; plural noun: maroons
  1. 1.
    a brownish-crimson color.
    “the hat is available in either white or maroon”
  2. 2.
    BRITISH
    a firework that makes a loud bang, used mainly as a signal or warning.
Origin
late 17th century (in the sense ‘chestnut’): from French marron ‘chestnut’, via Italian from medieval Greek maraon . The sense relating to color dates from the late 18th century.

It seems like the Regency was the era for colorful names and names for colors. However, many only lasted a season or two. Some colors were dictated by events of the day (battles won, allied countries, etc.). But one of the reasons the Regency era is so fascinating is due to the many descriptive colors, etc.

I am not sure certain whether there were specific color names confined just to the Regency. However, if you would like a list of colors used across the Regency and the longer Georgian eras, accompanied by swatches, you might want to have a look at Sarah Waldock’s post at her blog, Renaissance and Regency Ruminations. If you read my story, you will notice I use both the terms “chestnut” and “Egyptian brown” to describe the veining in the flower pictured above. 

This color list was primarily prepared by Sarah, who also dyes fabrics using old techniques and formulas, augmented by information provided to her by Charles Bazalgette, who recently published a biography of his ancestor, Louis Bazalgette, entitled Prinny’s Taylor. It is important to keep in mind that most of the colors on this list came primarily from colors used for garments and accessories, rather than interior decor. Which is not to say that such colors were not used for such purposes, just that the sources of these color names are based upon garment colors.

51jyow5S1BL.jpg In case you want to know more of the book Prinny’s Taylor: The Life and Times of Louis Bazalgette (1750-1830)The Prince of Wales, later George IV, is probably the most written-about of all British monarchs, and his excesses, his debts and the huge sums that he expended on his wardrobe are legendary. It is therefore strange that the man who was the Prince’s tailor for over thirty-two years, and his principal tailor for over half of that time, should have been named, and then only in passing, in just two other books. 
The reason why Louis Bazalgette has been a shadowy figure until now is that the relationship between the two men was discreet and almost clandestine. This biography presents a detailed picture of an extraordinary man, of humble origins, whose influence on gentlemen’s tailoring, and upon the Prince himself, must have been far-reaching. 
This fascinating story presents a new angle on Georgian and Regency life, as seen through the eyes of a little French tailor who by his own efforts became a very wealthy propertied merchant. There is also a great deal of information on gentlemen’s tailoring of the period, a subject sparsely covered in other publications, and we are regaled in detail with the clothes that were made for Prinny, when and where he wore them and how much they cost. Many of the anecdotes about George are included, but given new meaning because of the fresh information that the author has discovered.
Some of Louis Bazalgette’s descendants also enter the story. His eldest son Joseph William Bazalgette, R.N, served with distinction during the Napoleonic wars, and his grandson of the same name was the noted civil engineer who made such a difference to London. The author is Louis’ great-great-great-great-grandson.
Lovers of the period will be delighted by many previously unpublished items which have been uncovered during over twenty years of painstaking research.

The earliest reference I have found of Navy Blue comes in 1814. (from the Oxford English Dictionary). Forest Green dates to 1810. Navy Blue might have been already in use at the time because the reference refers to a vat of dye. Forest Green was used by a Scot in reference to a color called Lincoln green. Some of the names of colors used in house paint  were very odd. Farrow and Ball used to have a sample card for historic colors like dead salmon and mouseback. We can also discover color names in the descriptions of fashion prints in the magazines. Some color terms date from after the Regency, such as Mauve. Colors and fashion details were also named after events. A fashion color was stone. I wondered it there was a difference between stone and Bath stone, field stone, or flagstone. Fruits and flowers were names often used. Navy blue was the color of the British naval uniform. Navy bean attested from 1856, so called because they were grown to be used by the Navy. (From etymonline.com) But it does not say when they began using the term as a color rather than a noun. I have seen “cerulean blue,” “Pomona green,” and “primrose yellow,” to name a few.

There were common Regency/Georgian terms for various hues within each color. Someone on the Beau Monde loop (sorry, I cannot discover who provided this list) tells us about “greens.” 

Greens, for instance, were:

Bottle green

Bronze Green

Corbeau coloured

Emerald green

Olive (green)

Parrot green

Pomona green

Rifle green

Saxon green

Spring (green)

This table reads as: the title of the color, the year the term was first used, the modern color description/name as per the British Color Council,

Aurora, 1809. Chilli.

Aurora, 1829.  Shell-Pink.

Eminence, 1829.  Crushed Strawberry.

Japanese Rose, 1826.  Crushed Strawberry.

Marsh Mallow, 1829. Crocus or Old Rose.

Morone, 1811. Peony Red.

Naccarat, 1800. Tangerine.

Terre D’Egypt, 1824. Brick Red.

In the Regency period, there certainly are more colors for white/cream/shades thereof than for red/pink/orange.

51mvL3GneQL.jpg  You might consider an investment in C. Willett Cunningham’s, English Women’s Clothing in the Ninetheeth Century: A Comprehensive Guide with 1,117 Illustrations. At 576 pages, it is well worth the nearly $20 cost, for it has information on hair styles, hats, prices on yardage, undergarments, etc. 

Book Blurb:

The nineteenth century was a period of continuous change for women’s clothing in England. The growing prosperity of the merchant class meant an ever-larger number of women for whom “dress” was a principal function in life, while the increasing availability of lower-priced ready-made garments enabled women of moderate means to purchase the fashions of the day. In addition, the development of the railways spurred the spread of new goods, while the removal of the tax on papers in 1854 produced an abundance of fashion magazines at cheap prices, bringing news of the latest styles to the multitudes.
The magnificent array of ladies’ fashions that characterized the century are on display in this remarkably complete decade-by-decade overview. Drawing almost exclusively on contemporary sources — fashion magazines, newspapers, rare period photographs, memoirs, Victorian novels, periodicals, and other publications, as well as firsthand observation of actual garments — the author describes and explains the couture that evolved in response to changing social conditions, technological innovations, and cultural developments.
Over 1,100 line and tone drawings and photographs depict hundreds of outfits ranging from lovely morning dresses and starkly attractive riding outfits to elegant carriage costumes, opulent evening dresses, and exquisite bridal gowns. Full-page plates also depict period millinery, footwear, underclothing, and other apparel, while three useful glossaries provide descriptions of materials, definitions of technical terms, and more.
Museum curators, vintage clothes collectors, and fashion historians will find this carefully researched and well-written book an indispensable tool for dating, identifying, and authenticating vintage clothing. Not only are styles described and illustrated in detail for each year; all the small details of construction by which specimens can be dated are given wherever possible. Moreover, designers, illustrators, and fashion enthusiasts will be delighted by the superbly detailed illustrations, which painstakingly document the fashionable finery of the Victorian era.

Posted in book release, British history, Georgian England, Georgian Era, Living in the Regency, Regency era, research, writing | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments

What is the Difference Between a Peerage That is “Dormant,” “Extinct” or in “Abeyance”?

1200px-Wreath_lockup_gold_rgb.jpgI was recently looking for names and titles to use for characters in a list of extinct  and abeyant peerages in an online copy of  Debrett’s from the mid 1800s. Some of the titles in abeyance had been in that state since the 13th Century. It got me thinking as to whether the readers of Regency romances know the difference between dormant, extinct, or in abeyance as a plot point. Does it matter to the average reader whether the history is accurate or not? 

While most peerages were created by patent and become extinct when there are no longer any male heirs, some peerages were created when a man was called to the House of Lord by a writ of summons issued in  his peerage title. If the clerk made a mistake and wrote the wrong title then a new peerage was created. These peerages by writ could descend to both sons and daughters. However, while if a man had several sons the peerage went to the oldest, the practice was that sisters shared equally. If a holder of a barony had four daughters and no sons, they would all share equally in property, but none of them would actually hold the title. This would remain in abeyance until such time as one descendant survived and was willing and able to do a detailed  family tree accounting for all the sisters and their children for how many years or decades since the death of the last peer. If there were four daughters there would be fewer descendants than if there had been fifteen daughters. By the fifth generation the families probably forgot there was  ever a matter of a peerage title.

4a8592acf0eb682ac1272c6931b4ddcb.png

It was an arduous task to show all of the children of the last peer, when born, when died, when married to whom, with proofs from parish registers about marriages and baptisms, as well as records of deaths. The successful claimant need not be the only surviving descendent of the sisters, but the descendant of the oldest sister had a bit of precedence over the descendants of the younger sisters.

When peerages are in abeyance, the birth of a son to one of the sisters does not automatically make him the successor to all of the sisters. 

Secondary peerages are dormant titles if there are no heirs to bear them or if the heir is not given a peerage title.

A title is also dormant when it is known or suspected that male heirs exist somewhere, but that they have not come forward to claim the title.

It is my understanding, for example, that the Avonmore peerage is dormant because one of the sons of the 3rd viscount went off to Australia, where he was known to have married and  had a child. However, no one ever came forward to claim the peerage, so it is dormant. If  it was known that there were no longer any male heirs left alive , the peerage will be considered extinct.

Frederick Berkeley, 5th Earl of Berkley was also the baron of Berkeley, He had married Mary Cole and had ten children, but 5 were declared illegitimate in 1811, after Frederick’s death in 1810. There was a question regarding the exact date of Frederick and Mary’s marriage. Although they both claimed it occurred on 30 March 1785, the incontrovertible proof offered at the time was the marriage occurred at Lambeth Church, Surrey, on 16 May 1796. Thus, the earldom was presented to their fifth child (the others being illegitimate), a son, age 16 years at the time: Thomas Morton Fitzhardinge Berkely. Because the young man was alive, but too frightened of, or loyal to, his oldest brother and his mother, he ever claimed the peerage and never took his seat in the House of Lords. It is said, per his father’s will, Thomas would have lost his small inheritance had he disputed his eldest brother’s claim to the titles. 

Burke's_Peerage,_Sixth_Edition_(1839),_Title_Page

A Genealogical and Heraldic Dictionary of the Peerage and Baronetage of the British Empire, Sixth Edition 1839 (known better simply as Burke’s Peerage) ~ Public Domain via Wikipedia

   Therefore, the earldom of Berkeley remained dormant until Thomas died in August 1882, unmarried and without issue. Then the Berkeley earldom went to a descendent of a younger legitimate  brother. At that time a female descendent of an older legitimate brother petitioned to have the barony awarded to her. After proving her descent and that the barony was a barony by writ, she succeeded. She was Louisa Mary Milman, 15th Baroness Berkeley (by birth: Berkeley) (1840-1899). Louisa was followed by Eva Mary Foley, 16th Baroness Berkeley (by birth: Milman) (1875-1964) (The peerage became abeyant in 1964.) Eva was followed by Mary Lalle Foley-Berkeley, 17th Baroness Berkeley (1905-1992) (The abeyance was terminated in 1967.) Then, Anthony Fitzhardinge Gueterbock, 18th Baron Berkeley (b. 1939), her nephew became the baron. The heir apparent is his son the Hon. Thomas FitzHardinge Gueterbock (b. 1969).

Extinct indicates the peerage has no more heirs at all or no more male heirs if a peerage by patent.

Dormant means a peerage has been swallowed up in a superior title or an unclaimed peerage when a likely successor is known to be alive.

Abeyance means daughters shared equally in the right of succession so the prize goes to the descendent who either out lives the others or can prove she or he has a better claim than the cousins.

For more information on how a peerage is swallowed up in a superior title, visit:

http://www.regencyresearcher.com

The Prince Regent could not call a title out of abeyance, but he could grant a title in a second creation that had become extinct. Titles in abeyance have known contenders and usually start with a title available to daughters. When daughters inherit, they all do equally, so the title is in abeyance until one claimant is given the right to it. The numbering starts over. I used this in my book Captain Frederick Wentworth’s Persuasion.

Abeyance is when there is more than one claimant to a title. This usually happens when a peerage by writ is inherited by daughters. It remains in abeyance until it is called out by one of the claimants. One title was claimed after 400 years. Afterwards, Parliament decided to limit the statute for such claims to 100 years.

When there are no title holders to be found and no people presumed to be around, the title becomes extinct and reverts to the Crown.

The title is dormant, if  a person is thought to be alive, but just has not claimed it. The baby would be the duke, and the title would be alive during the child’s life time unless proof can be found of his death.

The law, however, is not without its remedy for this anomalous situations. It vests in the Crown a power by its prerogative of selecting one of the co-heirs, or the heir of one of the co-heirs, to take the peerage, and so soon as the Crown has declared its will in this respect, the peerage descends to the person thus selected. The usual mode in which the Crown has made its selection has been by causing a Writ of Summons to be issued to the person selected, or, if such person be a woman, by causing Letters Patent be made determining the abeyance in her favour. Where the person selected is already a peer, the abeyance has also been determined in his favor by Letters Patent. The heir in whose favour an abeyance is thus terminated takes the peerage and holds it to him and the heirs of his body. This is not a new peerage, but, rather, the old peerage with the old precedence. (The Peerage Law Handbook, p. 100-101).

According to one of the peerage law books, the ONLY power a monarch retained over a title once it was granted was the power to choose from amongst co-heirs and terminate an abeyance in the favor of one of them. It almost never happened, but it is technically possible that as Regent, Prince George, the Prince of Wales, could, in fact, have done this if the hero in an author’s next Regency romance is somewhere in the line of co-heirs.

Posted in British history, family, Georgian England, Georgian Era, historical fiction, Inheritance, kings and queens, Living in the Regency, peerage, real life tales, Regency romance, research, writing | Tagged , , , , , , | Comments Off on What is the Difference Between a Peerage That is “Dormant,” “Extinct” or in “Abeyance”?

Banks and Banking During the Regency Period

The model for modern day banking system came at the hands of 17th Century goldsmiths. The goldsmiths quickly realized that the gold being used by their depositors was only a fraction of what they had in store. They began to loan people money from one of their depositors’ gold supply. They held promissory notes for full payment, plus interest. In time paper certificates (paper money, so to speak) were issued instead of the gold coins. 

One of the most successful goldsmith’s of the time was Richard Hoare, who owned the Golden Bottle in Cheapside. Toward the end of the 1600s, he moved his business to Fleet Street. “C. Hoare & Co. is the sole survivor of the private deposit banks which were established in the 17th and 18th centuries.  The bank has been owned and directed by members of the Hoare family since it was founded by Richard Hoare in 1672. In the days before street numbering, businesses were identified by signs.  Richard Hoare traded at the ‘Sign of the Golden Bottle’ in Cheapside.” 

Mr. Hoare,
     Pray pay to the bearer hereof Mr. Witt Morgan fifty-four
 pounds ten shillings and ten pence and take his receipt for the
 same. Your loving friend,
                                              Will Hale


For Mr Richard Hoare
  at the Golden Bottle in Cheapside.

The Hoare family eventually became part of the landed gentry. Henry Hoare II improved the Stourhead estate with Grecian-styled gardens. “Henry [Hoare] ‘the Magnificent’ was one of a small group of early eighteenth-century ‘gentleman gardeners’ using their acres to create a particularly personal landscape which expressed their hopes and beliefs about the world and their journey through it. His vision, recreating a classical landscape, depended on water. The centre piece of the garden at Stourhead is the lake, which dictates the path you take and the views you enjoy. The damming of the river and the creation of the lake was an ambitious undertaking. Henry ‘the Magnificent’ and his architect Henry Flitcroft planned it before work began on the garden buildings such as the Temple of Flora, Pantheon and Grotto. 

 

 

 

 

Buried deep in the beautiful greenery of Stourhead Garden is the Temple of Apollo, where Mr Darcy makes a swoonworthy confession to Elizabeth Bennet in the Pride and Prejudice film from 2005.

Like any good idea, eventually, the value on the banknotes in circulation was larger than the value of gold begin stored by the goldsmiths. Therefore, a different direction was required. The Bank of England and the Bank of Scotland changed banking with the formation of banking corporations.

The Bank of England was founded in 1694. It began as a privately owned bank when William Patterson and some of his friends agreed to assist King William III in financing a war with France. Patterson and his associates set up a joint-stock bank with limited liability and a Royal Charter, thanks to the King. This bank issued its own bank notes as legal tender. Each note held a “promise” to pay the holder of the note the sum written upon the note. The payment would be in gold or coins. They were handwritten on bank paper and signed by one of the Bank’s cashiers. They contained the precise sum deposited by the person, meaning they could be “thirty-two pounds, six shillings, and 4 pence.” Later, standard denominations, between £20 and £1000, were used, but that was not until around 1750. These “standard denominations” still required the name of the person holding the note and the Bank cashier’s signature to be legal. The bank also served as the banker for the Government and its operations. It now occupies three acres on Threadneedle Street. 

I have a book called  In These Times: Living in Britain. Through Napoleon’s Wars by Jenny Uglow. Farrar, Straus and Giroux (January 27, 2015). In it, the author mention’s Hoare’s bank. There are several references to banking and banks: city banking and country banking, as well as the Bank of England. “Several private banks dotted down Fleet street and the Strand to Charing Cross, a busy corridor between the city and Westminster and the West end, all dealing with wealthy landed customers in need of mortgages and loans, or, if they were flush, a safe house for their deposits. …. Each bank had its distinctive clientele: Praed & Co in Fleet Street had the West Country and Cornish business; Drummond’s catered for army agents, Gosling’s and Child’s for East India company tycoons; Coutts dealt with the aristocracy and never with industry; Wright’s in Covent Garden looked after the Catholic gentry and Herries Bank in St. James Street, further west, issued cheques for smart travellers setting out on the grand tour.The rule at Hoare’s was that one partner was in attendance at all times…. Ten clerks. One must be in at all times even on Sundays and Christmas day. They could live there.” Baring’s was a merchant banker. The Quakers had several banks, including Lloyd’s in Birmingham, Backhouse in Darlington, and Gurney’s in Norwich.

Goldsmiths, John Freame and Thomas Gould began Barclay’s in Lombard Street in London in 1690. When James Barclay, a Quaker, married Freame’s daughter, Sarah, he became a partner in the bank, along with Freame’s son, James. This was in 1736. Thus, the name Barclay’s stuck. Barclay’s was one of the first to print their banknotes instead of writing them out by hand. Like those mentioned above, the banknotes still need to be signed by a Barclay’s cashier. “In an age when few people could read, signs were used to identify buildings; when buildings changed hands, the sign would remain. The Barclays business moved to the sign of the Black Spread Eagle in 1728, which later became numbered as 54 Lombard Street. As a result, Barclays became identified with the Spread Eagle, which was adopted as its official coat of arms in 1937.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Founded in 1717 by goldsmith Andrew Drummond, Drummonds Bank remained in the Drummond family until the early 1900s when The Royal Bank of Scotland purchased it. Andrew Drummond practiced his trade as a goldsmith at the sign of the Golden Eagle on the east side of Charing Cross, when many of the Scottish gentry resided. However, his banking interests soon outshone his work as a goldsmith. “The firm grew quickly and in 1760 moved to a commissioned building on the bank’s present site on the west side of Charing Cross. Andrew Drummond died in 1769 and a series of subsequent partnership agreements divided the business among three branches of the Drummond family. In addition two of the partners were involved in substantial Treasury contracts for the payment of British troops in Canada and America before and during the American War of Independence The firm also kept accounts for King George III and other members of the royal family. By 1815 Messrs Drummond had over 3,500 accounts. In 1824 customer deposits exceeded £2 million.”

Drummonds now specializes in wealth and asset management. It is located at 49-50 Trafalgar Sqare, London, where it began its services. Reconstruction began on the building in 1877 and was completed in 1881. Some of Drummonds many clients over the years included His Majesty King George III, Alexander Pope, Benjamin Disraeli, Beau Brummel, Capability Brown and Thomas Gainsborough. “Both Coutts & Co. and Drummonds have received royal patronage. King George III moved his account from Coutts to Drummonds during his reign as he was displeased with Coutts for bank-rolling the Prince of Wales from his personal account. Messrs Drummond & Co. honoured the wishes of the King but unsurprisingly when the Prince of Wales became King George IV in 1820 he moved the royal account back to Coutts. More recent known members of the royal family include the late Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother.”  

John Taylor

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Taylors & Lloyds Bank was founded in 1765. “The original Taylor was John. He was a Unitarian – a non-conformist like his business partner Sampson Lloyd. John started life in Birmingham as a cabinet-maker, ‘a mere artisan’, but went on to make his fortune manufacturing buttons and other trinkets. He became particularly well-known for his exquisite enamelled snuff boxes. Something no self-respecting 18th century gentleman would be seen without. At its height, Taylor’s business employed more than 500 people, and made a very healthy profit. Taylor was 54 when he went into partnership with Sampson Lloyd. His sound business reputation and his great wealth were recognised, with his name being placed first in the bank’s title.”

Sampson Lloyd II (1699-1779), co-founder of Taylors & Lloyds.

Meanwhile, Sampson Lloyd, a Quaker, was an iron producer and dealer. He became rich because of the Seven Years War, but, afterwards, he looked for another business outlet. With his son Sampson Lloyd II, Sampson formed a partnership with John Lloyd in what became Taylors & Lloyds Bank, originally located in Birmingham. The bank’s original purpose was to provide credit to small manufacturers in and around Birmingham. They showed a profit of £10,000 over the first six years. “The first branch office opened in Oldbury, some six miles (10 km) west of Birmingham, in 1864. The symbol adopted by Taylors and Lloyds was the beehive, representing industry and hard work. The black horse regardant device dates from 1677, when Humphrey Stokes adopted it as sign for his shop. Stokes was a goldsmith and “keeper of the running cashes” (an early term for banker) and the business became part of Barnett, Hoares & Co. When Lloyds took over that bank in 1884, it continued to trade ‘at the sign of the black horse.'” [Timeline. Lloyds Banking Group]

Child & Co.was one of the oldest British bank, coming into existence in the 1580s. It originated in the goldsmith shop of the Wheeler family. Like, Drummond above, the goldsmithing business soon took a back seat to the banking business. William Wheeler’s widow eventually married another goldsmith, Robert Blanchard. Their shops merged under the sign of the “Marygold” on Fleet Street. Francis Child joined in Blanchard’s partnership. Child, eventually, inherited the whole business located at 1 Fleet Street, when he married Blanchard’s stepdaughter. This occurred in 1681. Incidentally Francis Child later became Lord Mayor of London. [History of Child & Co]

“Francis Child’s grandson, Robert, had no male issue and the Child fortune was eventually settled on his granddaughter, Sarah Sophia Fane, who married the fifth Earl of Jersey. Lady Jersey had an income of £40,000, and had some London fame as one of the patronesses of Almack’s assembly rooms. Sarah was to act as senior partner of the bank for sixty-one years.

“Child & Co remained a relatively small bank through the nineteenth century surviving because of its location in the west end and due to the interest of the aristocracy, politicians and officeholders of Westminster. In 1924, Child’s and Co. was sold to Glyn, Mills &Co, bankers of London, which was in turn acquired by The Royal Bank of Scotland in 1939. Child & Co has since continued to trade under its own name as an office of the Royal Bank and recently re-established its private banking traditions under the old Marygold trade sign.” [Georgian Index]

Coutts & Co “was founded at the sign of the Three Crowns in London’s Strand in 1692 by John Campbell, a Scottish goldsmith. A fellow Scot and able banker, George Middleton, was taken into partnership in 1708 and assumed sole control upon Campbell’s death in 1712. Middleton later married Campbell’s daughter, Mary, and quickly attracted a large aristocratic clientele. Middleton was forced to stop payment temporarily during the 1720 financial crisis, but subsequently recovered and took into partnership his brother-in-law, George Campbell, in 1727 and his nephew, David Bruce, in 1744. By this time the business was located at 59 Strand and was focused exclusively on banking, having abandoned the original goldsmithing business which had involved the fashioning and sale of gold and silver wares. Middleton died in 1747 and Bruce in 1751, leaving George Campbell as sole proprietor.

“In 1755 the business became known as Campbell & Coutts, following the entry into the partnership of James Coutts, the son of an Edinburgh banker, upon his marriage to George Campbell’s niece. In 1761, a year after Campbell’s death, James took his younger brother, Thomas Coutts, into partnership as James & Thomas Coutts. This partnership continued until 1775 when James retired and the business adopted the title of Thomas Coutts & Co. Thomas soon took in several partners, the best known of whom were Edmund Antrobus, Edward Marjoribanks and Coutts Trotter, but their names were never included in the title of the bank.

“Coutts was an astute banker and well-connected in society. He developed the business, taking over the private banking house of Davison, Noel, Templer, Middleton & Wedgewood in 1816 and attracting many new clients. When Thomas Coutts died in 1822, the bank was renamed Coutts & Co. It was by then unquestionably one of the leading private banks in London and acted as banker to British and foreign royalty as well as to many important personalities from such spheres as politics, theatre, literature and business.” [Coutts & Co, RBS Heritage Hub]

Nathan Mayer Rothschild ~ public domain

N. M. Rothschild’s efforts in the banking industry in England came much later than the others. Nathan Rothschild came to London early in the 19th Century to open the bank that became N.M. Rothschild & Sons. Nathan Mayer acquired the premises at New Court on St Swithin’s Lane in 1809 which remain the headquarters of N M Rothschild & Sons today. [Georgian Index]

Mayer Amschel Rothschild became a powerful European banker in the late 18th Century and early 19th Century. They had powerful customers in the Landgraviate of Hesse-Kassel in the Holy Roman Empire. Mayer sent his sons to the various capitals of Europe to establish banks. Nathan Mayer Rothschild was sent to England. 

“Nathan first settled in Manchester, where he established a business in finance and textile trading. He later moved to London, founding N M Rothschild & Sons in 1811 at New Court, which is still the location of Rothschild & Co’s headquarters today. Through this company, Nathan Mayer Rothschild made a fortune with his involvement in the government bonds market. According to historian Niall Ferguson, ‘For most of the nineteenth century, N M Rothschild was part of the biggest bank in the world which dominated the international bond market.’

“During the early part of the 19th century, the Rothschild London bank took a leading part in managing and financing the subsidies that the British government transferred to its allies during the Napoleonic Wars. Through the creation of a network of agents, couriers and shippers, the bank was able to provide funds to the armies of the Duke of Wellington in Portugal and Spain. In 1818 the Rothschild bank arranged a £5 million loan to the Prussian government and the issuing of bonds for government loans. The providing of other innovative and complex financing for government projects formed a mainstay of the bank’s business for the better part of the century. N M Rothschild & Sons’ financial strength in the City of London became such that by 1825, the bank was able to supply enough coin to the Bank of England to enable it to avert a liquidity crisis.

“Like most firms with global operations in the 19th century, Rothschild had links to slavery, even though the firm was instrumental in abolishing it by providing a £15m gilt issue necessary to pass the Slavery Abolition Act of 1833. The money provided by Rothschild was used to pay slave owners compensation for their slaves and the gilt issue was only fully redeemed in 2015.” [Rothschild & Co]

This is not to say all people used banks during this time. In any city or small town during the Regency, there are also always pawn shops, where people could get cash for goods. Also most folks would keep a strong box with some cash funds on hand–any country estate would need this in order to pay wages to servants and to workers. Town houses would also require cash on hand to pay wages.

Do not be confused by the term “banknote.” It is simply used in numismatic and banking circles. Banknotes were promissory notes drawn on a bank’s funds. In the U. S., banknotes are what we call “dollars.” U.S. banknotes are drawn on the Federal Reserve Bank, and no other bank in the country is authorized to issue them. This is similar to other countries. But such was not true in the early days of banking in England and Europe. Strictly speaking, they were promissory notes (or cheques/checks) issued by specific banks to a specified value.  They are called Bank Cheques today, which are a different beast to cheques written by a bank’s customers.

The Bank Notes of old are the equivalent of today’s Bank Cheques/Checks – a check issued by a specific bank against its own holdings (they withdraw the funds from their customer’s account and hold it in their own reserves), and the bank holds that money until the the Bank Cheque/check is presented for payment.

In Jane Austen, Edward Knight & Chawton: Commerce and Community by Linda Slothouber she says that Edward Austen Knight’s primary London bank was Goslings Bank. He also used a bank founded by his brother Henry called Austen, Maunde & Austen, which went bankrupt and made him suffer a substantial loss.

 

 

 

 

 

Goslings bank had records of money deposited in country banks. One such was Hammond & Co, in Canterbury. That bank consistently sent large deposits to the Gosling bank. I imagine these deposits would travel with guards,

Agents also regularly made deposits in the Gosling bank. They were close enough to town to do so.

Sparrow & Co., an Essex bank also made deposits into the Gosling account. Money for current expenses and for current wages were kept on hand so not all money was sent to the bank. They were not quite in the habit of writing checks. Coin was preferred to paper and most servants and such were paid in coin. Though this book is about the finances of Edward Austen Knight, it is the only one so far that I have found that actually discusses the bank deposits. Others discuss the debts, the expenses, loans made by the landowner to others or taken out from a bank.

Other Sources:

Banking in Eighteenth Century England

British Banking History

Regency England and Money 

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Mansfield Park, or the Dark Side of Jane Austen’s Characters, a Guest Post from Eliza Shearer

Every single Janeite I know, regardless of the degree of their crush for Mr Darcy, agrees that Pride and Prejudice is an enjoyable novel. Mention Mansfield Park, however, and dissent soon appears. Fanny is too quiet, too passive, too boring, say her detractors. I used to be one of them, but over the years, the novel has grown on me.

 

An acquired taste

Mansfield Park is Jane Austen’s equivalent of Marmite. For those of you who are not familiar with this most British of concoctions, Marmite is a dark, salty spread with the power to drastically divide opinion, best exemplified by its famous slogan, “love it or hate it”. Any mention of Marmite reminds me of my friend Amanda, who moved to the UK in her twenties. I was with her when she tried Marmite for the first time, spread over toast. She found it revolting. But back to Mansfield Park.

Mansfield Park is a bit like a visit to the hall of mirrors in an old-fashioned fun fair. Jane Austen distorted and stretched some of the archetypes we find in her novels to the point that they are barely recognisable. Looking at it from this perspective, Mansfield Park is like the dark side of her other works, almost a cautionary “what ift” in some cases. I am sure that the parallels are many, but below are my favourites.

 

Maria Bertram is Emma Woodhouse on the loose

Both Mansfield Park’s Maria Bertram and Emma’s protagonist are pretty, clever and rich. They think they know better than anyone else around them, but still, fail to see what’s right in front of their eyes when it comes to their own love life. However, where Emma’s worst instincts are reigned in on time, Maria’s are encouraged. Maria’s fate is like Emma’s ghost of Christmas’ Yet to Come, a show of what might have happened to Miss Woodhouse had she not learned from her mistakes and rectified her behaviour.

Mrs Norris is a poorer, older version of Fanny Dashwood

Fanny Dashwood’s name always appears in Janeite’s lists of their favourite baddies. She is the scheming and selfish wife of Mr Dashwood, Elinor and Marianne’s brother in Sense and Sensibility. Artfully, she convinces her weak husband to limit the financial assistance to his late father’s widow and her three daughters to little more than “presents of fish and game” during the hunting season. Fanny is a wealthy woman, but she is far from generous, even with her nearest. Quite the opposite: she is every bit as mean and tight as Mrs Norris, and equally disagreeable.

 

Mr Rushworth is a financially independent Mr Collins

At first sight, these two gentlemen only have in common the fact that they are not particularly bright, nor gifted in the art of conversation. But dig deeper, and you will see some interesting patterns emerge. Mansfield Park‘s Mr Rushworth and Pride and Prejudice‘s Mr Collins only pay attention to what interests them. They are utterly oblivious to the subtle female signals around them, even those that are obvious to everyone else. They also share the same deep respect towards an older woman, Mrs Rushworth in one case, Lady Catherine de Bourgh in the other. The only difference, and what fires up Mr Collin’s unsufferable obsequiousness, is their fortune.

Lady Bertram is the female equivalent of Mr Woodhouse

Lazy, indolent and selfish, Mansfield Park‘s Lady Bertram and Emma‘s Mr Woodhouse see everything under the filter of self-interest and agree that change is the worst possible evil. They also care little about what lies beyond their little obsessions. That’s pug for Lady Bertram, and his and everyone else’s state of health in the case of Mr Woodhouse. Mr Woodhouse’s sex and disposition mean that he gets to be a lot more outspoken than Lady Bertram, but dig deeper, and you will see two kindred souls resting on equally comfortable sofas.

Henry Crawford is a rich Wickham

Pride and Prejudice’s George Wickham and Mansfield Park’s Henry Crawford could not look more different. Where Wickham is handsome, Crawford is slight and not particularly good-looking. Ignore their physical appearance, however, and the similarities between them are striking. Both men are irresistibly attractive to some women, enjoy flirting with anyone who is game and have a tendency to land ladies in trouble. The big difference is that Henry has money and can enjoy creating havoc and then moving on. Wickham, on the other hand, has the unfortunate combination of a modest income and a gambling problem, meaning that he has a price – and so he ends up married to Lydia.

Mary Crawford is a (seriously) insolent Elizabeth Bennet

Mansfield Park’s Mary Crawford and Pride and Prejudice’s Elizabeth Bennet are witty, pretty and fascinating young women with a sense of fun and some serious sparkle. They don’t mince their words, are not afraid to stand her ground and are experts in the art of teasing. Perhaps that’s why they are magnets for socially awkward and introverted men. However, Mary takes sassiness to a whole new level with her flippant comments and double entendres. Lady Catherine de Bourgh should count herself lucky: she may think Elizabeth Bennet an insolent girl, but she would have a heart attack if she ever met Mary Crawford.

Edmund Bertram is Henry Tilney without a sense of humour

As well as their profession, Mansfield Park’s Edmund Bertram and Northanger Abbey’s Henry Tinley share a similar moral compass, a kind heart and an eagerness to educate their respective protegées. But that is pretty much it. Edmund’s approach to life is solemn, serious, moralistic even, whereas Henry prefers irreverence, irony and laughter. Just think of Mr Tilney’s delightful conversation with Catherine – his opinions on muslin are a personal favourite of mine – then compare them to Edmund’s talk about sermons, house approaches and old horses. No wonder Edmund never makes it to the top of the favourite Austen leading men lists.

Fanny Price is an uninvolved Anne Elliot

Readers of Miss Darcy’s Beaux are well aware of my soft spot for Jane Austen’s introvert characters, of which Mansfield Park’s Fanny and Persuasion’s Anne are excellent examples. Both heroines are strong in their beliefs, but they have a quiet, unassuming manner, that many Janeites consider to border on sheer passivity (and, in the case of the former, was fatally ignored in one of the most catastrophic casting mistakes in an Austen adaptation). However, compared to Fanny Price, Anne is like Wonder Woman. She is the person everybody turns to when things go awry, and she delivers, coming to the rescue of injured children and keeping her cool when everyone is hysterical at Lyme. Perhaps it is no wonder that so many people love Anne, but accuse Fanny of single-handedly dragging Mansfield Park into the heart of the Mansfield Park rocks/sucks debate.

In any case, remember my friend Amanda and her dislike of Marmite? After a few years in the UK, she finally challenged her own assumptions and tried it with an open mind. I can’t say she has become a fan of Marmite, but she appreciates its sharp, strong taste and will even have it on toast every once in a while.

 

What are your thoughts regarding Mansfield Park? Can you think of any other similarities or distortions amongst Austen characters?

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Celebrating the Winners of Recent Giveaway

and-the-winners-are.jpg

All these prizes have been delivered:

from The Tea Room – July 10, 2019

Becky Cherrington, Mary Anne Landers, and Molly Laird chose Regency Summer Escape.

Margaret Murray-Evans and Mary Ann Anderson chose Angel Comes to the Devil’s Keep.

Patricia Sanford Addison chose Lady Joy and the Earl. 


 

from Swoonworthy Summer Reading – July 13, 2019 

Denis Austen and Karen M. Llanes chose Regency Summer Escape. 

Morse Dawn chose Lady Chandler’s Sister.

Anna Katherine Koehler chose Letters from Home. 


 

from the Austen Authors’ Blog – July 15, 2019

Caryl Kane, Jerilynn Rodriquez, Teresa Williams, Charlene Capodice, Susanne Barrett, Talia Sommers, Eva Edmonds, Mary Campbell, Teresa Broderick, Kayla Rose, and Virginia Kohl all received Regency Summer Escape. 


 

from Soiree with Sandra Masters – July 18, 2019 

Mary Ann Landers, Peggy Parker Martin, Roxane Twisdale, and Bobbie Gore chose Regency Summer Escape. 

Crystal Blake chose Lady Chandler’s Sister. 

Charlene Whitehouse chose In Want of a Wife. 


 

from my blog posts on July 19, 2019 and July 23, 2019

Luthien84, Glenda M, DarcyBennett, Cyndi Bennett, and Patricia Finnegan all received Regency Summer Escape. 

 

 

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