Every Woman Dreams...

Realities of Marriage in the Regency Era + the Release of “The Heartless Earl” + a Giveaway

Posted on October 16, 2019 by Regina Jeffers

In chapter six of volume one of Pride and Prejudice, Charlotte Lucas and Elizabeth Bennet provide us several tidbits regarding the success of a marriage during the Georgian era.

~ “If a woman conceals her affection with the same skill from the object of it, she may lose the opportunity of fixing him; and it will then be but poor consolation to believe the world equally in the dark. There is so much of gratitude or vanity in almost every attachment, that it is not safe to leave any to itself. We can all begin freely — a slight preference is natural enough; but there are very few of us who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement. In nine cases out of ten, a woman had better shew more affection than she feels.”

~ “But if a woman is partial to a man, and does not endeavour to conceal it, he must find it out.”

~ “When she is secure of him, there will be leisure for falling in love as much as she chuses.”

~ “As yet, she cannot even be certain of the degree of her own regard, nor of its reasonableness. She has known him only a fortnight. She danced four dances with him at Meryton; she saw him one morning at his own house, and has since dined in company with him four times. This is not quite enough to make her understand his character.”

~ “Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance. If the dispositions of the parties are ever so well known to each other, or ever so similar before-hand, it does not advance their felicity in the least. They always contrive to grow sufficiently unlike afterwards to have their share of vexation; and it is better to know as little as possible of the defects of the person with whom you are to pass your life.”

In my latest Regency release, The Heartless Earl, Sterling Baxter, the Earl of Merritt, has married a woman who left him as quickly as she gave birth to their son. He is cuckolded in the eyes of Society. Trapped in a marriage neither he nor Lady Merritt wish. So what were some of the realities of marriage in the Georgian era, specifically the Regency?

First off, remaining unmarried did not equal freedom for a woman of the Georgian era, rather she customarily experienced a life of penury, always at the mercy of benevolent relatives. Even Austen suffered after her father’s passing, which makes Charlotte Lucas’s speech regarding Mr. Collins evoke more sympathy: “You must be surprised, very much surprised—so lately as Mr. Collins was wishing to marry you. But when you have had time to think it over, I hope you will be satisfied with what I have done. I am not romantic, you know; I never was. I ask only a comfortable home; and considering Mr. Collins’ character, connection, and situation in life, I am convinced that my chance of happiness with him is as fair as most people can boast on entering the marriage state.” However, when a woman married the important decisions of her life passed from her father’s control to that of a husband. Marriage was a lifelong contract between a man and a woman. It was a crap shoot, so to speak. Divorce was expensive and VERY public. Most couples avoided even the thought of such an act.

The Bastardy Act of 1733 created something called Knobstick Weddings. A knobstick wedding is the forced marriage of a pregnant single woman with the man known or believed to be the father. It derives its name from the staves of office carried by the church wardens whose presence was intended to ensure that the ceremony took place.The practice and the term were most prevalent in the United Kingdom in the 18th century. Motivation for these arrangements was primarily financial–local parishes were obliged to provide relief for single mothers under the laws regarding relief for the poor. After the passing of the Bastardy Act in 1733, it became the responsibility of the father to pay for the maintenance of the child. Local authorities therefore encouraged the woman to enter into a marriage with the person presumed to be the father in an attempt to reduce their spending and shift the responsibility to the identified man. On some occasions the parish would pay the man to marry the girl, while there are also accounts of more aggressive tactics. In one case, recorded in the 6 October 1829 edition of The Times, a man was coerced into marrying the woman he was accused of making pregnant. The authorities, referred to as the parish overseers, threatened to hang him if he did not go through with the arrangement. Feeling that he had no option, he agreed to the marriage and the pair were wed. However, those responsible for forcing the partnership were later called to face charges of fraudulently procuring the marriage.” [Knobstick Wedding]

Marriage, whether it was rushed or planned for months on end, was a very public affair, one designed not only to announce the ceremony, but to assure the public that the man meant to support his new wife. If a widow remarried, some would do so in what was known as a smock wedding. The custom saw the man marrying a woman who was naked or dressed only in a smock. In the 1700s in America, quite of few of these weddings occurred, a left-over custom by those escaping England. The idea was if the woman appeared naked or in her underclothes that it absolved her from anyone collecting upon the woman’s debts or in case of a widow, from collecting upon her late husband’s debts. The idea was that a groom who possessed anything bought by a bride or her deceased husband would possess their indebtedness as well. The smock wedding prevented this situation. When marrying bricklayer Richard Elcock at Bishop’s Waltham in September 1775, it was observed that widow Judith Redding “went into one of the pews in the church, stript herself of all her cloaths except her shift, in which only she went to the altar, and was married, much to the astonishment of the parson, clerk, &c.” [A Survivor’s Guide to a Georgian Wedding]

A Survivor’s Guide to a Georgian Wedding also speaks of the devastating effect on women of being widowed, but also of being deserted by their husbands. If a widow, it was often imperative that the woman wed again. She not only depended upon the good graces of her new husband for her support, but the woman would need his support of any of her children still at home. Having her husband desert her for whatever reason left the woman in limbo (death on the battlefield, a criminal offense, abandonment, etc.). She could not remarry or have legitimate children. If the man chose not to take care of her and provide for her, she could easily fall into poverty and be driven into the workhouse.

RELEASING OCTOBER 31, 2019

Introducing The Heartless Earl: A Common Elements Romance Project Novel …

STERLING BAXTER, the Earl of Merritt, has married the woman his father has chosen for him, but the marriage has been everything but comfortable. Sterling’s wife, Lady Claire, came to the marriage bed with a wanton’s experience. She dutifully provides Merritt his heir, but within a fortnight, she deserts father and son for a baron, Lord Lyall Sutherland. In the eyes of the ton, Lady Claire has cuckolded Merritt.

EBBA MAYER, longs for love and adventure. Unfortunately, she’s likely to find neither. As a squire’s daughter, Ebba holds no sway in Society; but she’s a true diamond of the first water. Yet, when she meets Merritt’s grandmother, the Dowager Countess of Merritt creates a “story” for the girl, claiming if Ebba is presented to the ton as a war widow with a small dowry, the girl will find a suitable match.

LORD LYALL SUTHERLAND remains a thorn in Merritt’s side, but when the baron makes Mrs. Mayer a pawn in his crazy game of control, Merritt offers the woman his protection. However, the earl has never faced a man who holds little strength of title, but who wields great power; and he finds himself always a step behind the enigmatic baron. When someone frames Merritt for Lady Claire’s sudden disappearance, Merritt must quickly learn the baron’s secrets or face a death sentence.

The Common Elements Romance Project includes a variety of authors and genres, as well as settings, each including the same FIVE elements hidden within their novels. Those elements (in no particular order) are…

a Lightning Storm

a Set of Lost Keys

a Haunted House (or the Rumor of Its Being Haunted)

a Stack of Thick Books

a Character Called “Max”

Excerpt: (Sterling and Ebba’s first meeting does not go so well.)

“Where is my grandmother?” Sterling demanded.

Fortunately, her ladyship’s maid waited for him in the common room. He should berate the woman for not attending to her mistress, but he possessed no time for foolish servants.

“This way, my lord.” Alberta led him through the common room and up the stairs.

When the maid held the door for him, he beheld only his grandmother’s fragile form on the bed. Fearing the worst, he rushed to her side, completely oblivious to the nondescript woman seated on the bed’s edge. “I am here, Gram,” he whispered hoarsely as he caressed her cheek. “It is Sterling.”

Her eyes flitted open and then closed again, but she gave him the hint of a smile. Sterling leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

“Did you bring her ladyship’s medication?” a voice behind him demanded.

Sterling reached into his inside pocket and removed the powder packets the physician had provided him. He extended his arm to the side, but his eyes never left his grandmother’s face. “Here.”

“Thank God.” The woman snatched them from his fingers. “Alberta, fetch fresh water and a clean glass.”

“Yes, miss.”

Sterling caught his grandmother’s hand in his. He rubbed it gently between his two. “Do you remember how you used to rub my hands just like this? I was so foolish. I would rush outside to build snowmen and forget my gloves. But you never reprimanded me for being a boy. You would laugh and then tend to my frozen fingertips with the most gentle touch.” He stroked the rheumatic hand with his fingertips. “Gram, Jamie desperately requires your touch as much as I once did. He has no one to love him but we two.”

* * *

Ebba watched in fascination as the earl tended his grandmother. Tears misted her eyes at seeing his gentleness. She had always longed for someone to care for her. Had never known it within her own family. Surprisingly, she felt a twinge of jealousy. What she would not give to have someone’s undeniable devotion. Such had been her dream for as long as she could remember. But the likelihood of such love would ever exist for her. Instead, she must choose a different route: an adventure to fill her days when no one else cared to think upon her.

“Here, miss.” Alberta returned with a fresh ewer of water.

Ebba poured a glass. “What is the dosage?” she said to the earl’s back.

“The whole packet,” he ordered without turning around.

Ebba stirred the powder into the glass to dissolve it. “If you will support her ladyship, sir, I shall spoon in the medicine.”

The earl stood and maneuvered into the tight space where he might lift the countess to a seated position. He braced her against his shoulder and held her head securely in place without Ebba needing to instruct him.

“Countess,” Ebba encouraged. “His lordship has brought your medication, ma’am.” She gently tapped the countess’s chin. “I shall feed you spoonfuls.”

Thankfully, the woman opened her eyes. “Ebba,” she murmured.

“Yes, ma’am. It is Ebba. I am here, and so is your grandson, Lord Merritt. We shall personally see to your care.” She began to spoon in the medicine. After each mouthful, she held the countess mouth closed and waited for the woman to swallow before offering another.

* * *

Sterling dutifully braced his grandmother’s frail body and waited for the woman to tend to his kin. He had thought the stranger unremarkable, but then he had looked upon her face. Heart shaped. Sun kissed skin. Reddish gold hair pulled back in a tight braid. Several strands had worked their way loose and brushed her cheeks and ears with the lightest of wisps and his fingers itched to touch them. The sun streaked across her features, emphasizing the fatigue that marked the lines around her mouth, but it was still a pouty mouth, one begging to be kissed properly. And she sported the bluest eyes he had ever beheld. The sunlight glistened off her eyelashes in flakes of gold, making the blue mesmerizingly enticing. Sterling forgot to breathe as he concentrated on her. Her small breasts pushed against the square neckline of her dress. And desire went straight to his groin. Barely seven hours earlier, he had taken his pleasure in Abbey’s soft and very curvy body, but somehow this was different. This woman did not flaunt her wares.

* * *

Ebba spooned the medication into the countess’s mouth, but she was completely aware of the man who supported Lady Merritt’s back. She could feel his concern for his grandmother. It was fierce. Primitive even. Protection with which she held few personal examples, but thankful to view its existence. From her eye’s corner, she could see his long fingers holding his grandmother’s shoulders. His hands fascinated her. They spoke of strength and love and dependability. Then she foolishly raised her eyes to meet his. Steel-gray. Nearly black. Framed by dark brows. Dark pools so deep, she sat transfixed.

“Is that all, miss? Anything else I should fetch her ladyship?” Alberta asked from somewhere behind Ebba.

She blushed. “That…that should be adequate,” she stammered. She placed the glass and spoon on the end table. “Do you wish to sit up, your ladyship?” She reached to straighten the countess’s clothing.

The earl moved from behind his grandmother. “Here, Gram. Permit me to assist you.” He gently lifted the woman as Alberta adjusted the pillows. Then he sat beside the countess again. “You gave me quite a scare. Thank goodness Lord Brayton knew to come to Baxter Hall.”

His grandmother motioned to the water pitcher, and he poured some in an empty glass before bracing her again so she might sip. Finally, she said, “I suspect Ebba sent the viscount.”

“Ebba?” Lord Merritt turned her. “Would that be you, miss?” She could hear the caution in his tones.

Instinctively, her chin rose in defiance. It appeared that the countess was the exception in the Baxter family. “I am Ebba Mayer, sir.”

He stared at her as if considering her for the first time. “Ah, yes. Lord Brayton mentioned you.” He stood and offered Ebba a bow. “I thank you, ma’am, for your attention to her ladyship. It was most kind of you to give up your travels to remain with the countess.” His words were meant as a dismissal—an arrogant dismissal, at that.

“No, Sterling.” His grandmother reached for his hand. “You do not understand.” She paused to catch her breath. “I have asked.” Pause. “Mrs. Mayer…to be my companion.” Pause. “And I shall provide her…my sponsorship for the Season.”

Lord Merritt stiffened, and he eyed Ebba cautiously. “From the time I returned to London to your departure from Yorkshire, you have made Mrs. Mayer’s acquaintance and taken on her sponsorship?” He stood by the countess’s bed and held her frail hand, but he did not remove his eyes from Ebba. “What might we know of Mrs. Mayer?”

“I know all I need to know, Sterling.” Pause. “Without Ebba, I would not have survived the night,” the countess declared. “Her quick thinking made the difference.”

He replied, “Then the lady has earned my deepest gratitude.” However, his body language spoke of his suspicions. Ebba recognized his critical eye: The earl had assessed her plain clothing and had drawn the conclusion she had taken advantage of his grandmother’s kindness. He said with circumspection, “I believe I will seek a room. At Mrs. Mayer’s suggestion, I have requested the traveling coach. When you have recovered, we will return to London in style.” He squeezed his grandmother’s hand.

Holding silent, Ebba lifted her chin and ignored the earl’s glare. “Alberta, shall you require assistance with her ladyship’s needs?”

“No, miss. I can attend the countess.”

“Then I shall freshen my things. I shall order a tray, Lady Merritt,” she said with more confidence than she felt. “Let us see if you can eat something.” Ebba started toward the door.

As she expected he would do, the earl followed. “May I have a word, Mrs. Mayer?” He caught her elbow and directed her to the hallway, politely closing the door behind him. Then he guided her along the passage. “Which is yours?”

She pulled up, breaking his hold. “I am afraid, sir, that despite my affection for your grandmother, I shall not entertain you in my chambers.”

Surprisingly, he reached for her again, jerking her into his body. “When I ask for something, Mrs. Mayer, I am not in the habit of being denied,” he hissed.

In bold disobedience, she stared intensely in his eyes, her pure fury unmistakable. “I would have thought you had had your pleasure satisfied already today,” she challenged.

Lord Merritt set his mouth in a tight line. “Explain, Mrs. Mayer.”

Undaunted, she accused, “Even after riding for hours across the English countryside, you still reek of your ladybird.” She could not disguise the look of triumph from her features when he reacted to her charge. His cheeks knew a slight flush of color.

“How does a genteel lady even know the word ladybird?” He gave her a little shake to emphasize his point.

Despite being held awkwardly against him, Ebba straightened her shoulders. “First, I never claimed sophisticated breeding,” she declared. “I am but a gentleman’s daughter and a squire’s sister; yet, I can attest neither ever came home from a night with their women, clothes rumpled, unshaven, and covered with the scent of a woman’s perfume. I suppose I should have pretended not to notice, but acting was never my strong point.” She braced herself for his retort.

The earl gritted his teeth in what appeared to be frustration. “Ours is not a conversation I care to have in this dark passageway,” he growled, but then swallowed his next remark before saying more calmly, “You will join me, Mrs. Mayer, in the inn’s private room for supper.”

His demand had surprised her, and she found herself saying, “As you wish, Lord Merritt. Now if you will pardon me, I wish to freshen my clothing before returning to your grandmother’s care.” Defiantly, she broke his grasp and strode away.

Resources:

Knobstick Wedding – https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Knobstick_wedding

Naked and Smock Weddings of Early New England http://www.newenglandhistoricalsociety.com/naked-and-smock-weddings-of-early-new-england/

A Survivor’s Guide to a Georgian Wedding http://www.historyextra.com/article/premium/survivors-guide-georgian-marriage

GIVEAWAY: I HAVE 2 eBOOK COPIES OF “THE HEARTLESS EARL” AVAILABLE TO THOSE WHO COMMENT BELOW. THE GIVEAWAY WILL END AT MIDNIGHT EST ON OCTOBER 22, 2019. The prizes will be awarded when the book releases.

Posted in America, American History, Austen Authors, blog hop, book excerpts, book release, British history, eBooks, excerpt, family, George Wickham, Georgian England, Georgian Era, heroines, historical fiction, Jane Austen, literature, Living in the Regency, marriage, marriage customs, Pride and Prejudice, reading habits, Regency era, religion, tradtions, Vagary | Tagged book excerpt, book release, British history, Church of England, Georgian Era, marriage, Publishing, Regency, The Heartless Earl, writing | 14 Comments

Press Gangs in the Regency Era

Posted on October 14, 2019 by Regina Jeffers

HMS Acasta: August 2013 http://www.hmsacasta.com A Gentleman’s guide to staying out of His Majesty’s Royal Navy.

Press gangs operated in England from medieval times, but during the war years the “tradition” was increased. In fact, the pressing of free men into military service was considered a royal prerogative. Pressgangs claimed many innocents who stumbled into the wrong area. Men were taken against their will from streets and country roads. They were captured through violence and placed onboard ship, bound and caged, until the ship left port. No one knows how many of Great Britain’s sailors were “pressed” into service. Not all who sailed upon British ships were countrymen. Some were Americans or those taken from the West Indies. The taken men were often wounded in their struggles. Many died from a lack of treatment.

“The class on whom it fell, however, found little sympathy from society. They were rogues and vagabonds, who were held to be better employed in defence of their country, than in plunder and mendicancy. During the American war, impressment was permitted in the case of all idle and disorderly persons, not following any lawful trade or having some substance sufficient for their maintenance. Such men were seized upon, without compunction, and hurried to the war. It was a dangerous license, repugnant to the free spirit of our laws; and, in later times, the state has trusted to bounties and the recruiting sergeant, and not to impressment, — for strengthening its land forces.” – The constitutional history of England since the accession of George Third, 1760-1860, Volume 2 (Google eBook), Thomas Erskine May, 1866, pp. 261-262.

We must recall that there was no organized police force to protect the men upon the street or to investigate a family’s report of a missing relative. Even those who served their duty were not “free” an additional impressment. Some men were recaptured and placed on another ship.

Press-gang Protection Paper http://www.hmsrichmond.org

“Impressment was restricted by law to seamen, who, being most needed for the fleet, chiefly suffered from the violence of the press-gangs. They were taken on the coast, or seized on board merchant ships, like criminals: ships at sea were rifled of their crews, and left without sufficient hands to take them safely into port. Nay, we even find soldiers employed to assist the pressgangs: villages invested by a regular force: sentries standing with fixed bayonets; and churches surrounded, during divine service, to seize seamen for the fleet.

The lawless press-gangs were no respecters of persons. In vain did apprentices and landsmen claim exemption. They were skulking sailors in disguise, or would make good seamen at the first scent of salt-water; and were carried off to the sea ports. Press-gangs were the terror of citizens and apprentices in London, of laborers in villages, and of artisans in the remotest inland towns. Their approach was dreaded like the invasion of a foreign enemy. To escape their swoop, men forsook their trades and families and fled, — or armed themselves for resistance. Their deeds have been recounted in history, in fiction, and in song. Outrages were of course deplored; but the navy was the pride of England, and every one agreed that it must be recruited. In vain were other means suggested for manning the fleet, — higher wages, limited service, and increased pensions. Such schemes were doubtful expedients: the navy could not be hazarded: press-gangs must still go forth and execute their rough commission, or England would be lost. And so impressment prospered. – The constitutional history of England since the accession of George Third, 1760-1860, Volume 2 (Google eBook), Thomas Erskine May, 1866, pp. 261-262.

Impressment – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia en.wikipedia.org

William Pitt brought in a Quota Act in 1795. This act stated how many men each shire was to provide for service. Men convicted of a crime resulting in imprisonment could choose between prison or service in the British Navy. This act reduced the practice of impressment, but during the Napoleonic Wars, stealing men from the streets to press into service still existed. With the end of the Napoleonic Wars, the practice died out.

I used pressgangs as a plot point in my award-winning mystery, The Prosecution of Mr. Darcy’s Cousin.

Posted in British history, British Navy, Georgian England, Great Britain, history, Living in the Regency, Napoleonic Wars, Regency era | Tagged British history, British Navy, Georgian Era, Napoleonic Wars, Pressgangs, Regency Era, The Prosecution of Mr. Darcy's Cousin | 7 Comments

The Mistress of the House, OR What Elizabeth Bennet Darcy Did at Pemberley, a Guest Post from Catherine Bilson

Posted on October 9, 2019 by Regina Jeffers

This post originally appeared on Austen Authors on August 15, 2019.

What Elizabeth Bennet’s life would have been like once she became Mrs. Darcy of Pemberley is the subject of a good many Austen variations out there, and it’s been something I’ve been considering recently as I work on Anne de Bourgh’s Diary, a story which commences on the day of Elizabeth and Darcy’s wedding. Though Lizzy was lucky enough to have Mrs. Reynolds, an extremely experienced housekeeper, to help her, there would still have been tasks she would have had to take on herself as the new mistress of Pemberley.

Of course, Elizabeth was ‘the daughter of a gentleman’, from an estate which, while small in comparison to Pemberley, still kept servants and maintained a high standard of living. Mrs. Bennet was particularly scornful of Charlotte Lucas being ‘wanted about the mince pies’, stating that “I always keep servants that can do their own work; my daughters are brought up very differently.” Presumably Lizzy and the other Bennet daughters learned from their mother how to instruct servants, and upgrading to Pemberley would really be more a matter of scale than a whole new skill set to learn.

Still, it got me thinking; what exactly would the mistress of Pemberley’s duties be? Research is a rabbit hole I can disappear down forever, but I honestly believe it’s always time well spent. Everything I learn might not make its way into any version of the story, but background knowledge is always useful. And though it’s a little late for the time period in which most Austen variations and continuations take place, hands-down the best reference I know of is Isabella Beeton’s The Book of Household Management. Originally a series of articles in The Englishwoman’s Domestic Magazine, it was first published as a book in 1861, and went through a series of revisions and expansions. An edition of the book is still in print today, but as a reference book, I prefer the original. You can get it for free in various e-formats at the Gutenberg Project website, and I highly recommend it as a resource for seeing just how the middle and upper class would have lived and what they would have eaten in the first half of the 19th century.

If you’d like to see complete issues of The Englishwoman’s Domestic Magazine, see this page for some links. Quite a few issues are digitized for online viewing.

There’s a lot of controversy over Mrs’ Beeton’s work, not least in part because large chunks of it were plagiarized from other people. I was reading The Magazine of Domestic Economy (1936) and almost the entire section about spring-cleaning has clearly been lifted straight from that to The Book of Household Management. Most if not all of Beeton’s recipes were first published in other places as well, but the fact remains that her book is one of the best places to find all the information in one spot… and a) she’s long dead and no longer benefiting from royalties anyway, and b) the book’s free. let’s just say that Isabella and her husband were more the collators of information than the creators of it, and move on. 😀

While Mrs. Beeton’s book includes a great many directions for managing a household, and the roles of both mistress and housekeeper, it’s actually largely known as a cookbook. I find it fascinating to look at the recipes used and what cooks considered standard at different periods in history, and intensely frustrating when authors get things wrong – the Potato Paradox is one that seems to trip up so many writing in the Middle Ages and earlier, since potatoes are a New World crop and didn’t appear in Europe at all until after Columbus’ voyages to the Americas, it drives me round the bend when Robin Hood and the Merry Men are tucking into some nice jacket potatoes cooked in the fire ashes along with their spit-roasted haunch of venison!

(Yes, I’ve really seen that in a book. No, I’m not going to name the author here.)

As I remarked before, Mrs. Beeton’s seminal work was published in 1861, so it’s really a bit ‘late’ for the purposes of researching what Austen’s characters would have eaten, and especially how their food would have been prepared, since the technology of cooking stoves took a pretty major leap forward in the Victorian era. My favourite resource for investigating food through the ages is the Food Timeline, and from this I followed a link to The Cook and Housewife’s Manual (1826) by Margaret Dods. Careful; though there are links to books which fit more precisely in the Austen period of 1800 – 1820, they’re published in the US and the food would have been quite different to what would have appeared on an English table of the time.

I love to cook, so I’m planning on doing some experimentation with some of the recipes from the Dods book. Though I don’t think I could bring myself to ‘dress a calf’s head’ – even if I could get hold of one, I’m pretty sure I couldn’t convince anyone in my family to eat it – there are lots that sound good. I’m definitely going to try this one, for example, though I might cheat a bit when it comes to beating the eggs by hand!

I’ll report back next month with pictures!

Posted in British history, family, food, food and drink, Georgian England, Georgian Era, Guest Post, Jane Austen, Living in the Regency, marriage, Pride and Prejudice, real life tales, Regency era | Tagged British history, estates, food, Georgian Era, guest post, Jane Austen, Living in the Regency, mistress of the house, Pemberley, Pride and Prejudice, Regency Era | 2 Comments

Georgian Jeweler to the “Ton”

Posted on October 4, 2019 by Regina Jeffers

This state portrait of Queen Victoria by George Hayter (detail), shows her wearing the new Imperial State Crown “expressly made for the
solemnity of the Coronation” by Rundell, Bridge & Co., with 3,093 gems.
George Hayter – http://www.gac.
culture.gov.uk/
search/Object.asp?object_key=29134 – Public Domain

In Elizabeth Bennet Excellent Adventure, I had the need to discover something of the jewelry trade during the Regency Era. Rundle & Bridge were considered jewelers for the ton after 1805. Remember that if one had money, the Regency was an era of custom-made jewelry. So while some might browse a few pieces made up, it’s more likely that person would view some drawings and the stones and have something made to order. Even heirloom sets were often reworked and remade to suit fashion.

Hoopman Rare Art tells up something of Philip Rundell: “Son of Thomas Rundell doctor of Widcombe Bath, born 1743. Apprenticed to William Rodgers jeweller of Bath on payment of £20. Arrived in London, 1767 or 1769, as a shopman to Theed and Pickett, Ludgate Hill, at a salary of £20 p.a.. Made partner with Picket in 1772 and acquired sole ownership of the business in 1785-6. Took John Bridge into partnership in 1788 and his nephew Edmund Walter Rundell by 1803, the firm being styled Rundell Bridge and Rundell from 1805. Appointed Goldsmith and Jeweller to the King in 1797, due it is said, to George III’s acquaintanceship with John Bridge’s relative, a farmer near Weymouth. He took Paul Storr into working partnership in 1807, an arrangement that lasted until 1819, when the latter gained independence. Only then was Rundell’s mark entered as plateworker, 4th March, 1819. Address: 76 Dean Street, Soho, (the workshop). In 1823 John Bridge enters his first mark and it seems probable therefore that it was about this time that Rundell retired. He did not die however until 1827, leaving his fortune of 1.25 million to his nephew Joseph Neeld.”

Philip Rundell headed up a silver manufacturing company. Jewelry of every type (watches, rings, necklaces, custom-made items) filled his shop at number 32 on Ludgate Hill. Rundell was an apprentice to a jeweler in Bath before arriving in London in the mid 1700s. He worked for many years at Theed and Pickett, Jewelers and Goldsmiths. Eventually, he made partner with the group and later (1785) purchased the shop, which was to bear his name.

John Bridge became Rundell’s partner soon afterwards. Through a connection of a cousin, Bridge soon earned the notice of King George III. Soon, Rundell and Bridge were known as “Jewelers and Goldsmiths to the King.” The business received royal warrants from George IV and Frederick, Duke of York.

To learn more of the other partners and designers associated with Rundell, Bridge, and Rundell, please see this post on the Georgian Index. It contains fabulous images of some of the most important pieces created by the firm, including “The Shield of Achilles,” designed for George IV’s coronation.

An excellent list of merchants (including jewelers) for the Georgian era can be found here – http://www.georgianindex.net/London/l_merchants.html

You might also find this source of interest if you are doing research on the time or on commerce.

Rundell, Bridge and Rundell – An Early Company History
Robert W. Lovett
Bulletin of the Business Historical Society
Vol. 23, No. 3 (Sep., 1949), pp. 152-162
Published by: The President and Fellows of Harvard College
DOI: 10.2307/3111183
Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/3111183
Page Count: 11

This description comes from JStor.

Description of Rundell, Bridge and Rundell: An Early Company History

Posted in British history, business, company, Great Britain, Living in the Regency, Regency era, Victorian era | Tagged British history, commerce, goldsmiths, jewelers, John Bridge, Philip Rundell, Regency Era, tradition | Comments Off

Would Darcy Sink or Swim? a Guest Post from Elaine Owen

Posted on October 2, 2019 by Regina Jeffers

This post originally appeared on Austen Authors on August 16, 2019. Enjoy!

Recently I came across the meme below and I was shocked. So shocked, in fact, that I gasped.

What’s that you say? You gasped too? OK, but perhaps not for the same reason. 🙂 While many a female heart has fluttered at the sight of Colin Firth/Fitwilliam Darcy in a wet shirt, I was shocked at the idea that Fitzwilliam Darcy couldn’t swim. What? Georgian men generally didn’t swim? I thought I knew a lot about the Regency period, but this was a new one on me. Naturally I had to investigate this claim. The fact that during my research I would inevitably come across many more images of Darcy in a wet shirt was just a bonus. Honest!

So it turns out that the answer to, “Could Regency period gentlemen swim?” and more specifically, “Could Darcy swim?” is not completely clear cut. A person could make a good argument either way.

It turns out that in the days leading up to the Regency period, swimming was done as much for hygiene as for recreation. In an era when bath water had to be hauled inside a house, heated up on a stove, and then carried laboriously to a tub somewhere, it made sense for gentlemen to skinny dip in the great outdoors whenever circumstances and the weather permitted. The problem was, circumstances and weather did not permit. Most gentlemen spent a lot of time in urbanized areas such as London, where ready access to a pond or river simply wasn’t to be had. And, of course, having no access to a large body of water made it pretty difficult to learn to swim.

To be sure, many English men and women went to Bath to “take the waters,” meaning that they drank the water from the mineral springs and/or immersed themselves in them. But that was just sitting and soaking in the hot water, not swimming. Also, we know that sea bathing was a popular activity for both men and women of the well to do classes, but whether the people bathing in the sea were actually swimming or just wading and splashing about is not clear.

Besides this, swimming in the great outdoors required a man to get, well, naked. And being naked in the great outdoors was just such a non-English thing to do. People in warm climates, especially exotic “heathen” locations, might frolic in the water with barely a stitch of clothing, but Englishmen were not heathens, thank you very much. sniff A proper Englishman would simply not be so exposed in front of strangers. He especially would not be so undignified in front of his social inferiors. If he did go in the water “au natural” it was likely to be in a secluded setting where he could let his hair down, so to speak, in private. So I think Darcy would have been very unlikely to go skinny dipping while in town.

For all of these reasons even most English sailors did not know how to swim. They were doomed to panic and drown if they fell overboard. The ones who did learn how to swim usually learned while visiting one of those exotic “heathen” ports.

Yet there were definitely some gentlemen in Regency England who learned how to swim. Not everyone avoided the water. We have a book written by the Englishman Everard Digby in 1587, who published a detailed manual, complete with illustrations, showing various swimming strokes and techniques. We also know that students at Cambridge hired “watermen” to watch them while they swam. The job of the watermen was, in essence, to jump in and rescue any young man who was in obvious distress. Clearly the watermen themselves had to be excellent swimmers, and some of their charges would have been as well. Finally, there is a charming story of Benjamin Franklin visiting England as a young man and teaching two friends there how to swim in the Thames. Before he returned to America, Franklin gave a swimming demonstration in Chelsea that both amazed and delighted his onlookers.

Darcy fans should be aware that in the 1700’s the extremely posh boys’ schools of Eton and Harrow decided their students should learn how to swim, both to avoid potential drownings and for the obvious health benefits. They designated “bathing” areas outdoors and encouraged their charges to participate. So if Darcy attended either of these elite institutions he was at least exposed (pardon the pun!) to the activity.

So, did Darcy know how to swim? Did that famous scene in the 1995 film have any possible basis in real life? Or would Darcy have sunk like a stone if he ever ventured into deep water?

Taking all the evidence into consideration, I think it is very possible that Darcy knew how to swim. He had access to swimming areas at Pemberley and was most likely encouraged in the activity while he was away at school. Being an upper class gentleman, he also had time to devote to learning the necessary skills. I like to think that he might even have helped the timid Georgiana enter the waters and try her hand. (There is at least one JAFF out there where this is a key part of the plot!) Most importantly, as the lord of the manor Darcy could swim in privacy, not worrying about ever being caught in an awkward position by unexpected visitors. At least, until a certain young lady from Hertfordshire showed up without warning. 🙂

But above all, this is Fitzwilliam Darcy we’re talking about, a man among men. Strong, handsome, and virile, knowledgeable on every subject, a superb fencer, a skilled equestrian, and the love of Elizabeth Bennet’s life. OF COURSE he knew how to swim! Or at least he knew how to look good in a wet shirt. 🙂

What do you think? Would Darcy sink or swim in that wonderful lake scene? Let me know in your comments below!

Special thank you to the Jane Austen Centre for allowing use of their meme here!

Posted in Austen Authors, British history, Georgian England, Georgian Era, Guest Post, Jane Austen, Living in the Regency, Pride and Prejudice, Regency era | Tagged athletic activity, Austen Authors, British history, characterization, Fitzwilliam Darcy, Georgian Era, guest post, Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice, Regency Era, swimming | 4 Comments

Mirrors of the Mind, Part 3, a Guest Post from Alexa Adams

Posted on September 30, 2019 by Regina Jeffers

This post originally appeared on July 12, 2019, on the Austen Authors’ blog. Enjoy.

I had planned to take a break from this topic, but then a recent article inspired me to press on, and not in the direction I had planned. Instead of delving into Mansfield Park, as predicted in my last post, I’m turning my attention to Northanger Abbey. It is one of only two Austen novels that open with a description of the heroine (the other is Emma). Most do not provide physical descriptions of the heroine until her character is very well-established, several chapter into the book. Her tendency to withhold such vital information is, perhaps, her most radical means of attacking the prevailing reliance of novelists on physiognomy (the practice of determining a person’s personality through examination of their physical form). Look at it in the context of contemporary literary conventions. Conveniently, the three novels Austen references in Northanger’s defense of the novel (Vol. 1, ch. 5) are perfect examples. Cecilia, Camilla (both by Frances Burney), and Belinda (Maria Edgeworth) all provide precise physical descriptions of the heroines within a few sentences of each book’s opening. This encourages readers to utilize physiognomical assumptions to create sympathy and admiration for the novel’s heroine. By denying her readers such information, Austen forces them to judge her heroines based upon their actions.

But not in Northanger Abbey. In this, her first full-length novel, Austen is not so subtle in her rejection of the literary devices regularly employed by her fellow novelists, including physiognomical assumptions. She declares her intentions in the opening line of the novel, and the entire first chapter is devoted to describing Catherine’s physical and mental development from a scraggily “tomboy” (perhaps the first description of one, a good half century before Loiusa May Alcott and Victor Hugo created Jo March and Eponine Thernadier) into “a young lady [who] is to be a heroine.” Here is the first paragraph of the book in its entirety:

No one who had ever seen Catherine Morland in her infancy would have supposed her born to be an heroine. Her situation in life, the character of her father and mother, her own person and disposition, were all equally against her. Her father was a clergyman, without being neglected, or poor, and a very respectable man, though his name was Richard — and he had never been handsome. He had a considerable independence besides two good livings — and he was not in the least addicted to locking up his daughters. Her mother was a woman of useful plain sense, with a good temper, and, what is more remarkable, with a good constitution. She had three sons before Catherine was born; and instead of dying in bringing the latter into the world, as any body might expect, she still lived on — lived to have six children more — to see them growing up around her, and to enjoy excellent health herself. A family of ten children will be always called a fine family, where there are heads and arms and legs enough for the number; but the Morlands had little other right to the word, for they were in general very plain, and Catherine, for many years of her life, as plain as any. She had a thin awkward figure, a sallow skin without colour, dark lank hair, and strong features — so much for her person; — and not less unpropitious for heroism seemed her mind. She was fond of all boy’s plays, and greatly preferred cricket not merely to dolls, but to the more heroic enjoyments of infancy, nursing a dormouse, feeding a canary-bird, or watering a rose-bush. Indeed she had no taste for a garden; and if she gathered flowers at all, it was chiefly for the pleasure of mischief — at least so it was conjectured from her always preferring those which she was forbidden to take. — Such were her propensities — her abilities were quite as extraordinary. She never could learn or understand anything before she was taught; and sometimes not even then, for she was often inattentive, and occasionally stupid. Her mother was three months in teaching her only to repeat the “Beggar’s Petition;” and after all, her next sister, Sally, could say it better than she did. Not that Catherine was always stupid, — by no means; she learnt the fable of “The Hare and many Friends,” as quickly as any girl in England. Her mother wished her to learn music; and Catherine was sure she should like it, for she was very fond of tinkling the keys of the old forlorn spinnet; so, at eight years old she began. She learnt a year, and could not bear it; — and Mrs. Morland, who did not insist on her daughters being accomplished in spite of incapacity or distaste, allowed her to leave off. The day which dismissed the music-master was one of the happiest of Catherine’s life. Her taste for drawing was not superior; though whenever she could obtain the outside of a letter from her mother or seize upon any other odd piece of paper, she did what she could in that way, by drawing houses and trees, hens and chickens, all very much like one another. — Writing and accounts she was taught by her father; French by her mother: her proficiency in either was not remarkable, and she shirked her lessons in both whenever she could. What a strange, unaccountable character! — for with all these symptoms of profligacy at ten years old, she had neither a bad heart nor a bad temper, was seldom stubborn, scarcely ever quarrelsome, and very kind to the little ones, with few interruptions of tyranny; she was moreover noisy and wild, hated confinement and cleanliness, and loved nothing so well in the world as rolling down the green slope at the back of the house.

The genius of Austen is that she not only establishes Catherine in contrast to every expected heroic quality, but that we find her utterly charming, regardless. The length of her description is also innovative. Unlike the few words deemed sufficient to develop the characters of the heroines in those famous novels mentioned above, Austen gives us an in-depth account of a fully materialized Catherine. Many have conjectured that the description is somewhat autobiographical, pointing out similarities to what we know of Austen’s childhood. If so, it is perhaps her fondness for herself as a child that comes through in the text, enveloping her readers in a cozy, memory-laden fog of their own lost youths.

I began my last post by asking you to imagine you knew nothing of Pride and Prejudice and lamented my own difficulty in recalling my first impressions of Austen. Ironically, the only one of her novels I can clearly remember reading the first time is Northanger Abbey. It was my first Austen novel, and I bought it in a train station along the Northeast Corridor when I was eleven or twelve years old. I didn’t have much time and picked the book up randomly, opening to the first page and scanning it quickly to see if I would like it. I don’t think I had ever even heard of Jane Austen before. I read it quickly, without much reflection, but I completely sympathized with Catherine and adored Henry Tilney. His introduction is more propitious than his lady’s, but Austen’s succinct description continues to defy the literary conventions of the time: “The master of the ceremonies introduced to her a very gentlemanlike young man as a partner; — his name was Tilney. He seemed to be about four or five and twenty, was rather tall, had a pleasing countenance, a very intelligent and lively eye, and, if not quite handsome, was very near it. His address was good, and Catherine felt herself in high luck.”

The contemporary physiognomers could rest assured that here was no Signor Montoni, from The Mysteries of Udolpho, destined to make Catherine’s life a misery. Nor is he a vapid Valencourt, destined to bore you to death, as his conversation instantly proves. Austen manages to give us one of her most delightful heroes without relying on any of the prevailing tropes, just as she defies convention in the creation of Catherine. That opening line of the book, while it might seem cute and humorous to the modern audience, had to be shocking to Austen’s contemporaries. A perfectly normal girl elevated to the position of heroine … it shouldn’t have been a revolutionary notion, but it was. It is yet another of the endless examples I continue to discover of Austen’s literary prescience. I never cease to be awed by how groundbreaking her writing is, so often providing the foundation of what became entire genres of literature, from detective stories to 20th century experimentalism. It’s a subject I wrote about in an article for Pride & Possibilities a few years back, and I won’t reiterate that argument now. Honestly, I barely had time to write this post. It would have been far easier to throw together an ode to summer vacation as I had planned (today is FINALLY my daughter’s last day of school), but circumstances required I come to my muse’s defense.

Posted in Austen Authors, British history, excerpt, film adaptations, Georgian England, Georgian Era, Guest Post, heroines, historical fiction, Jane Austen, Living in the Regency, Mansfield Park, Northanger Abbey, Persuasion, Pride and Prejudice, Regency era, Regency romance, research, writing | Tagged description, Emma, guest post, Mansfield Park, Northanger Abbey, Pride and Prejudice | Comments Off

History of The Odiham Agricultural Society and the Release of “Mr. Darcy’s Bet”

Posted on September 27, 2019 by Regina Jeffers

Britain’s first veterinary college has its roots in Hampshire’s Odiham Agricultural Society, formed on 16 May 1783 for the purpose of encouraging local development of industry and agriculture. Livestock breeding and management was very important to this group. The activities and influence of some of its key members was to result in a far more important outcome: the foundation of the veterinary profession in Britain. It led to the establishment of Britain’s first veterinary college in 1791.

Bishop Burgess ~ Image Available from the National Library of Wales ~ Public Domain ~ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_Burgess_(bishop)#/media/File:Bishop_Burgess.jpg

Among the Society’s initial members was Thomas Burgess, Winchester and Oxford scholar and son of the local grocer. Burgess later became Bishop of St David’s and he founded St David’s College, Lampeter before being translated to Salisbury. Other members of the group were gentlemen of rank and fortune, as well as a few “intelligent farmers.”

Burgess was known for his zeal for the Scriptures and his philanthropic nature. [Ironically, “at Salisbury and St David’s, he founded a Church Union Society for the assistance of infirm and distressed clergymen. He opposed both Unitarianism and Catholic Emancipation. The latter policy led to several clashes with the Government: the Duke of Wellington told him sharply that he would do far more to strengthen the Protestant faith by staying in his diocese and minding his flock than he could by bombarding the Government with political pamphlets.”] [Thomas Burgess (bishop)] With the influence of the Odiham Agricultural Society, he, however, took up the cause for animal welfare and humane treatment of sick animals.

“The minutes of the meeting of 19 August 1785 record Burgess’ motion:

‘That Farriery is a most useful science and intimately connected with the Interests of Agriculture; that it is in a very imperfect neglected state and highly deserving the attention of all friends of Agricultural economy.

“That Farriery, as it is commonly practised, is conducted without principle or science and greatly to the injury to the noblest and most useful of our animals.

“That the improvement of Farriery established on a study of the Anatomy, diseases and cure of cattle, particularly Horses, Cows and Sheep, will be an essential benefit to Agriculture and will greatly improve some of the most important branches of national commerce, such as Wool and Leather.”

The minutes also record that the meeting resolved:

“That the Society will consult the good of the community in general and of the limits of the Society in particular, by encouraging such means as are likely to promote the study of Farriery upon rational scientific principles.”

Unfortunately, neither Burgess or the Society possessed the money or the scientific knowledge to make the resolution a reality. The idea did not die, however. It took root and soon we have further developments.

The next step was agreed at the meeting on 17 June 1786 [Pugh, page 13] at which it was resolved to set up the Farriery Fund: “For the breed, management and improvement of horses, cows, sheep and hogs – for the best fully authenticated cures of diseases incident to horses etc, for accurate registers of dairies – for registers of management, profit and loss of a flock of sheep, etc.”

Arthur Young joined the OAS in 1785 and led the group into the next phase. Young was an author and traveller. Young had visited the French veterinary school (near Paris) in 1787. “In his ‘Travels in France’ he wrote that the school had ‘over one hundred pupils from different parts of France, as well as pupils from every country in Europe except England, a strange exception considering how grossly ignorant our farriers are’. The result of Young’s observation was that, in 1788, the OAS decided to send, at least, two boys to France to study at the French school. They advertised for contributions for the boys’ educational expenses.

Also in 1788, a Scottish farrier by the name of James Clark published a treatise titled “Prevention of Disease.” He purported the idea of farriery schools in Britain similar to the French ones.

Granville Penn had read Clark’s treatise and had heard of the OAS’s work in training farriers. He became a subscriber to the Farriery Fund and a member of the Society.

“In the 5 August 1789 minutes of the Society, under his influence it was resolved that:

“From the information collected on this subject it appears that the improvement of Farriery would be most effectually promoted by the Regular Education in that Art on Medical and Anatomical principles. It is to be lamented that there is not yet in England any Establishment adequate to the desired improvement of Farriery by a regular education in that science.”

“This was an admission that it was not enough to send a few boys to France, but that a school was required in England.

“In October 1789 Penn met a Frenchman named Benoit Vial de St. Bel [Pugh, pages 17-19] who was in England finding out about agriculture and thoroughbred horses. He had trained and qualified at the French veterinary school and was also trying, unsuccessfully, to interest the English in establishing a veterinary school in England.

“The combined efforts of Penn and St Bel resulted in a plan for an English school and, for the first time, someone who could provide the teaching experience required.

“Penn sought out the financial support [Pugh, page 22] he needed from wealthy animal owners and also sought moral support from the medical and scientific professions regarding the need to move treatment of animals into the professional sphere. In order to raise money rapidly, he sought large subscriptions from sponsors and patrons, who would be become the first governors of a new ‘College or Body Associating for the purpose of encouraging Veterinary Science” and which would direct the schools.'”

The Odiham Agricultural Society accepted the plan on 5 August 1790. The London Committee of the OAS included both Burgess and Penn, along with Lord Rivers. Penn openly advocated for the school to be in London. Fortunately, Burgess had the foresight to have all related resolutions of the parent Odiham Society read aloud and recorded in detail in the new Minute Book, capturing the OAS’s history for future generations.

In order to earn patronage from the Duke of Northumberland, the London Committee separated itself from the Odiham Society on 18 February 1791. Mr Saint Bell be appointed Professor to the College. The OAS agreed to the separation and presented the Farriery Fund to the new school in London.

The role of the Odiham Agricultural Society in the foundation of what became the Royal Veterinary Society (in 1844) had ended, and the Odiham Society itself ended a few years later. But its legacy remains today in the Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons.

Sources:

Bell, F.R., 1977. The Days of the Farriers. Veterinary History.

Odiham Agricultural Society

Pugh, L.P., 1962. From farriery to veterinary medicine 1785–1795. Cambridge, Heffer.

_________________________

Book Blurb

“Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt.” – Act 1, Sc. 4, William Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure

FITZWILLIAM DARCY has done everything within his power to prove his devotion to ELIZABETH BENNET. He believes they are so close to knowing happiness; howbeit, when his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, accosts Elizabeth with predictions of Elizabeth never being able to fit in with his social connections, everything changes. Although the lady sent his aunt packing with words to the contrary, a bit of doubt has slipped under Elizabeth’s shield of confidence, and she again refuses his hand in marriage, this time to protect him from the gossiping beau monde.

Therefore, Darcy must take a leap of faith; he proposes to her before the congregation gathered for the marriage of Jane Bennet and his friend Charles Bingley—a public proposal from which Darcy cannot legally or morally withdraw, one only Elizabeth Bennet can refuse. He bets, this time, he can win not only her heart, but also her consent. With the assistance of his family and hers, a plan is put into motion to prove to all comers that Elizabeth Bennet is not only worthy of his attentions, but also the only one Darcy should consider marrying.

In Chapter 11 of Mr. Darcy’s Bet, Darcy speaks of the Odiham Agricultural Society to a boy whose family he is assisting.

The three boys slept, as they had done for the last two days. Darcy suspected the two older ones had stood guard over young Cobb while in their cell, for when he had arrived to remove them from their incarceration, he found, despite his specific orders to the contrary, two men were also in the cell with the boys. Filthy, he had first taken them to Darcy House and demanded they be scrubbed clean. Jasper had been sent out to purchase new clothes and shoes, and, by mid afternoon yesterday, they had set out for Kimbolton. His steward’s letter said the man had departed Lincolnshire two days prior to Darcy’s leaving London, so, he expected to encounter the man on this very day. However, with the days shorter in November and the roads north of London less well maintained, it was difficult to make good time. It could be possible he must wait another day to meet up with Mr. Atkinson, but he prayed otherwise.

Darcy had despised leaving Elizabeth, especially after the kiss they had shared. Even now, he could taste her sweetness on his lips, and it was all he could do not to groan. He closed his eyes and relived the moment: the surprise he had felt when she willingly encircled his waist with her arms, the brush of his lips against hers, then her capitulation to a deeper kiss. He was so close to claiming happiness; yet, he feared she might still step away from him. What would happen if he failed to gift her with his childhood wish? Would she overlook his failure and agree to marry him, or would she again deny the bond, obviously resting, between them?

He opened his eyes to discover Kit Fyre watching him closely. “How much longer?”

“Depending on the weather we should meet Mr. Atkinson late this afternoon. You will travel to Lincolnshire with him.” The boy nodded his understanding. “Have you thought more on what trade you wish to pursue? Do you wish to be a smith, like your father?” Darcy had learned from the younger boys that the late Mr. Fyre had been a blacksmith, who was often used by Tattersalls before the family fell on hard times.

“I dost not think I’ll be as strong as was me Pa. He be’d a big man, bigger than you even. I’s take after me Ma. I’d like to work with horses, though.”

“A groom, perhaps, or a farrier,” Darcy suggested. “Learn all you can of horses and then set your sights on becoming what Sir Thomas Brown called ‘veterinary medicine.’ There is even the Odiham Agricultural Society in Hampshire whose purpose is to encourage agricultural development and livestock breeding. I consult regularly with some of its members on the latest ideas in improving the stock upon my tenant farms. The group founded a veterinary college in London some twenty years back. A ‘vet’ tends more than horses; yet, learning all you can of those animals would be an excellent start. Even a truly knowledgable farrier would earn a steady income large enough to support himself and a family.” The boy again nodded his understanding. “Do yourself the favor of speaking honestly with Mr. Atkinson of your aspirations. You must consider whether it will be enough for you simply to earn a fair wage to support your younger brothers. You must consider what will happen when they reach an age to take off on their own. A future stretches before you, and you must have the foresight to understand where you wish to be in ten years. Twenty years. Atkinson is a good man and will do all he can to assist you and your brothers, but he will not coddle you and plead with you to do your job. If you do not perform, he will release you at the drop of a hat, and I will not step in again to save you, for, if you fail, it is because you broke your word to me.”

Posted in book excerpts, book release, British history, Church of England, Georgian England, Georgian Era, Great Britain, history, Jane Austen, Living in the UK, medieval, Pride and Prejudice, publishing, real life tales, science, Vagary, Wales, world history, writing | Tagged Arthur Young, Bishop Thomas Burgess, book excerpt, book release, British history, Farriery, Georgian Era, Granville Penn, Hampshire, James Clark, Jane Austen, Mr. Darcy's Bet, Odiham Agricultural Society, Pride and Prejudice, real life tales, Royal College of Veterinary Surgeons, variation, veterinarian | 4 Comments

What Does a Renown French Astronomer Have to Do with the Release of “Mr. Darcy’s Bet?” + a Giveaway

Posted on September 25, 2019 by Regina Jeffers

Comet C/1743 X1, The Great Comet of 1744, or “Comet de Cheseaux-Klinkenberg”, at 4am on March 9, 1744, showing six tails rising above the horizon
Amedee Guillemin, after Jean-Philippe de Cheseaux – Amedee Guillemin, The World of Comets (London, 1877) ~ Public Domain

Charles Messier at age 40 ~ Public Domain

Charles Messier was born in Badonviller on 26 June 1730 in the Lorraine region of France. He was the tenth of twelve children. Six of his siblings died young. Messier’s interest in astronomy was fired by, first, the Great Comet of 1744, and, later, by a solar eclipse in 1748. This eclipse occurred on July 25, near Messier’s home town.

For those of you unfamiliar with “The Great Comet of 1744, whose official designation is C/1743 X1, and which is also known as Comet de Chéseaux or Comet Klinkenberg-Chéseaux, [it] was a spectacular comet that was observed during 1743 and 1744. It was discovered independently in late November 1743 by Jan de Munck, in the second week of December by Dirk Klinkenberg, and, four days later, by Jean-Phillippe de Chéseaux. It became visible with the naked eye for several months in 1744 and displayed dramatic and unusual effects in the sky.” One can only imagine how such a spectacular display could inspire a curious boy of fourteen.

Joseph-Nicolas Delisle ~ Public Domain

At the age of twenty-one, Messier was employed by Joseph Nicolas Delisle, a French astronomer and cartographer, associated with the French navy. Delisle instructed Messier on how properly to conduct his observations. The Mercury transit of 6 May 1753 was Messier’s first observation. That one was followed by his observations journals at Cluny Hotel and at the French Navy observatories.

In 1764, Messier was made a fellow of the Royal Society in England. He was also elected as a foreign member of the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences in 1769. The next year he was honored to become a member of the French Academy of Sciences.

He was most notable for publishing an astronomical catalogue consisting of 110 nebulae and star clusters, which came to be known as the Messier objects. The purpose of the catalogue was to assist astronomical observer, in particular comet hunters, to distinguish between permanent and transient visually diffuse objects in the sky.

Messier discovered 13 comets:

C/1760 B1 (Messier) c/2760
C/1763 S1 (Messier)
C/1764 A1 (Messier)
C/1766 E1 (Messier)
C/1769 P1 (Messier)
D/1770 L1 (Lexell)
C/1771 G1 (Messier)
C/1773 T1 (Messier)
C/1780 U2 (Messier)
C/1788 W1 (Messier)
C/1793 S2 (Messier)
C/1798 G1 (Messier)
C/1785 A1 (Messier-Méchain)

Unfortunately, near the end of his life, Messier self-published a booklet connecting the great comet of 1769 to the birth of Napoleon, who was in power at the time of publishing. This is the tidbit of history that plays out in my latest Austen release.

According to Meyer:

As hard as it may seem to accept, the memoir is an ingratiation to Napoleon in order to receive attention and monetary support. It is full of servility and opportunism. Messier did not even refrain from utilizing astrology to reach his goal. Messier comes quickly to the point on the first page of the memoir, by stating that the beginning of the epoch of Napoleon the Great … coincides with the discovery of one of the greatest comets ever observed.

Maik Meyer (see link to Messier and Napoleon below) explains the historic context of this booklet’s publication, “Until 1789, Messier had earned an honored name in astronomy. His comet discoveries led to numerous memberships in national and international academies. The Marine Observatory in Paris, from where he was observing as a chief astronomer was financed by the Navy. In summer 1789, the French Revolution erupted, culminating in the ‘Year of Terror’ (1793-1794). Messier lost all his salaries for the Marine Observatory. This was a hard time for Messier, who was then in his sixties. Things got better for him after 1795, and Messier started to observe again from the Marine Observatory, now maintained and financed by himself. His last named comet discovery happened in 1798, and when he was beaten by Pons on the comet of 1801 (C/1801 N1), with which Pons started an impressive career as a comet hunter, Messier seemed to have a hard time accepting that he was no longer dominating the field of comet hunting….

“Napoleon did not take much notice of this memoir. However, Messier’s reputation was seriously harmed. The observatory’s condition became increasingly bad, since no funds for repair were available. Messier’s observing activities came to an end. Charles Messier died in 1817….”

So, although history does not show that a disgraced French astronomer by the name of Charles Messier lectured in England in late 1812, an author by the name of Regina Jeffers exercised a bit of dramatic license to place Messier into the life of one Fitzwilliam Darcy. The question remains, what purpose does Messier’s presence serve to the plot of Mr. Darcy’s Bet?

Teaser from the book:

“Monsieur Messier, merci de me recevoir aujourd’ hui,” Darcy said as he bowed to the man, who had not risen when Darcy entered the suite Messier occupied in London. The astronomer appeared frail.

“Tu es le bienvenu mon garçon.” Messier gestured to a nearby chair. Once Darcy was seated, the Frenchman switched to a halting form of English. “Your name…brought thought…of other Mr. Darcy. You favor ton père.”

My father would have known honneur in reclaiming your acquaintance, Monsieur.” Darcy spoke in clear, distinct syllables, for the man turned his head to one side as if his hearing was not as sharp as it once was.

“You have kept…ton père’s observatory?” Messier asked.

“Oui, but I spend less time studying the heavens than I would wish,” Darcy admitted.

“Responsabilités?” Messier asked.

“Yes, many responsibilities,” Darcy explained.

“Comment puis-je vous servir?” The man’s expression turned to caution.

“I thought perhaps it would be I who could serve you, rather than the reverse, Monsieur,” Darcy clarified. “May I have your permission to speak honestly of what I have to offer?”

“Certainement!” Messier sat straighter. His features had turned to hope. “What did you…have in mind…Mr. Darcy?”

For those of you whose curiosity I piqued with this article, check out these other sources on Messier:

Charles Messier

Charles Messier, Napoleon, and Comet C/1769 P1

Mr. Darcy’s Bet: A Pride and Prejudice Vagary

“Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt.” – Act 1, Sc. 4, William Shakespeare’s Measure for Measure

FITZWILLIAM DARCY has done everything within his power to prove his devotion to ELIZABETH BENNET. He believes they are so close to knowing happiness; however, when his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, accosts Elizabeth with predictions of Elizabeth never being able to fit in with his social connections, everything changed. Although the lady sent his aunt packing with words to the contrary, a bit of doubt has slipped under Elizabeth’s shield of confidence, and she again refuses his hand in marriage, this time to protect him from the gossiping beau monde.

Therefore, Darcy has taken a leap of faith, he has proposed to her before the congregation gathered for the marriage of Elizabeth’s sister and his friend Bingley. A public proposal from which he cannot legally or morally withdraw, one only Elizabeth Bennet can refuse. He bets he can win not only her heart this time, but also her consent. With the assistance of her family and his, a plan is put into motion to prove Elizabeth Bennet, not only worthy of his attentions, but also the only one he should consider marrying.

GIVEAWAY: I HAVE TWO eBOOK COPIES OF “MR. DARCY’S BET” AVAILABLE TO THOSE WHO COMMENT BELOW. THE GIVEAWAY ENDS AT MIDNIGHT, EDST, FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 27, SO HURRY!

Posted in book excerpts, book release, excerpt, Georgian England, Georgian Era, historical fiction, history, Jane Austen, Living in the Regency, Napoleonic Wars, Pride and Prejudice, publishing, real life tales, Regency era, Regency romance, research, Uncategorized, writing | Tagged astronomy, book excerpt, book release, Charles Messier, comet, France, Georgian Era, giveaway, Jane Austen, Mr. Darcy's Bet, Regency, research, science, Vagary, variation | 10 Comments

Did Lady Bertram Suffer from a Thyroid Condition? a Guest Post from Eliza Shearer

Posted on September 20, 2019 by Regina Jeffers

This post originally appeared on Austen Authors on July 23, 2019. Enjoy!

Mansfield Park’s Lady Bertram is the epitome of laziness and indolence. Her favourite activity is sitting on her favourite sofa, with a piece of sewing on her lap and pug at her feet.

Jane Austen’s character is wonderfully well depicted. But as a writer, I like to ask questions, and mine in her case was: what if her laziness, which everyone took for a personality trait, was, in reality, a health issue?

Laziness or Tiredness?

Mansfield Park has been on my mind a lot of late. My new Austeniana book, Miss Price’s Choice, begins in the home of the Bertrams about five years after the elopement of Mrs Rushworth. The protagonist is Susan Price, Fanny’s spirited little sister, who becomes Lady Bertram’s companion when Fanny marries Edmund.

Writing Austen-inspired fiction involves re-reading Austen in no small degree. This time, as I was listening to Karen Savage’s excellent audiobook version, something hit me. I realised that Lady Bertram may well have a thyroid condition.

The thyroid is a butterfly-shaped gland that sits in our necks, wrapped around the base of our throat. It is small but mighty and is responsible for much of the body’s metabolism. When it does not work well, the consequences are severe. In hyperthyroidism, the body speeds up and goes too fast. In hypothyroidism, everything slows down, and the sufferer is in a permanent state of exhaustion.

A Personal Experience of Hypothyroidism

My thyroid began to misbehave in my twenties. My thyroid was underperforming. I had dry skin, and I was always cold. Unbeknownst to me, I also had a swollen neck (or goitre), although it was only discernible to those with medical knowledge. Above all, I was tired all the time.

I began to wonder if Lady Bertram might not have been tired instead of lazy. She often naps during the day, and that is certainly something I wanted to do all the time before I was diagnosed. Lady Bertram is not fat, but neither was I: although weight increase is typical in hyperthyroidism, I did not experience it. She is also the age at which many women experience thyroid issues. A story began to form in my head.

Lady Bertram’s Possible Thyroid Problem

Hypothyroidism is slow to develop. The changes to the body happen so slowly that they are difficult to notice. The person affected and her loved ones do not immediately realise that something is wrong.

Lady Bertram had a lethargic disposition, so a thyroid problem may well go unnoticed for some time. It would take a while for her loved ones to notice the tiredness and foggy brain. Perhaps they would not worry until other symptoms like the dry skin or the bulging eyes made an appearance.

At that point, a loving husband like Sir Thomas would surely take decisive action. But what remedies would have been available to Lady Bertram?

New and Old Solutions for Goitre

Once I was diagnosed with hypothyroidism, I began to take synthetic thyroxine. The difference in my energy levels took a few weeks, but the change was striking. After a while, my thyroid was working well again. Going for long walks, keeping focused or having a late night was no longer a struggle.

Of course, synthetic thyroxine was not available during the Regency, but there were medical treatments for the condition. Iodine, an element essential for the thyroid gland to function, was discovered in 1811 in France. Bernard Coindet, a pioneering Swiss doctor, began to use it as a tincture to treat his patients soon afterwards.

However, remedies for goitre had long existed. Seaweed and kelp, naturally rich in iodine, were used in ancient China and Central and South America to treat goitre issues. Word of such treatments probably made its way to Europe in the Middle Ages, and eventually, England as well.

The Coventry Remedy

The famed “Coventry remedy”, first written about by Thomas Warton in 1656, was a tincture developed by a Dr Bate sold as a remedy for goitre. The enterprising Dr Bate and his descendants kept the recipe secret for many years, earning a tidy sum in the process.

By the late eighteenth century, the main ingredient in the Coventry remedy was revealed to be the ashes of burnt sea sponge. The reason why the tincture worked was not understood, but some doctors continued to prescribe it to their patients.

A Decision for the Bertrams

I thought that Sir Thomas, given a choice between a cutting-edge new therapy developed by a foreigner and an English-made remedy with centuries of proven success, would not think twice. The Coventry remedy had decidedly rustic roots, but it would surely be his preferred course of action.

And this is precisely what happens. After a few weeks of following the treatment, Lady Bertram’s energy levels surge, just as mine did when I started to take thyroid supplements. She even begins to take her new puppy for walks!

But this is a different story, one that I hope to share with you in the autumn.

Miss Price’s Decision launches on 17 October and is now available for preorder.

Do you suffer from a thyroid condition or know someone who does? Was there a symptom in particular that told you that something wasn’t right? What do you think of the Coventry remedy and Regency medicine in general?

Posted in Austen Authors, British history, Georgian England, Georgian Era, Guest Post, Jane Austen, Living in the Regency, Mansfield Park, medicine, real life tales, Regency era, Regency personalities, Regency romance, research, writing | Tagged Bernard Coindet, British history, Coventry Remedy, goitre, Lady Bertram, Mansfield Park, Regency Era, Thomas Warton, thyroid | Comments Off

“Bell, Book, and Candle” and Excommunication During the Georgian Era

Posted on September 18, 2019 by Regina Jeffers

In the Roman Catholic church, “bell, book, and candle” came to be synonymous with “major excommunication,” or “anathema.” The phrase dates back to the 9th Century and has symbolic meaning. The “bell” came to mean the public character of the action taken by the church and its presiding bishop against the one to be excommunicated. The “book” represented the church’s authority over the person charged. The “candle” represented the hope of the ban eventually being lifted, through the person’s repentance and an open show of having changed his ways. The ceremony would be a very public one, and the bishop would write letters to other bishops to report the fact. In that manner, the person could not simply up and move himself into another “see,” the area of a bishop’s ecclesiastical jurisdiction.

In the traditional ceremony, the bishop and 12 priests would preside, each carrying a lighted candle. “The bishop, wearing violet vestments, then recited the formula, ending thus: ‘We separate him, together with his accomplices and abettors, from the precious body and blood of the Lord and from the society of all Christians; we exclude him from our holy mother the church in heaven and on earth; we declare him excommunicate and anathema; we judge him damned, with the devil and his angels and all the reprobate, to eternal fire until he shall recover himself from the toils of the devil and return to amendment and to penitence.’ Those present answered, ‘So be it!’ Then the bishop and the 12 priests extinguished their candles by dashing them to the ground, and, as a general rule, the ceremony then ended.” [Bell, Book, and Candle]

A form of ecclesiastical censure, what we call excommunication excludes a person from the communion of believers, the rites or sacraments of a church, and the rights of church membership. Sometimes the governing body goes so far as exclusion.

The Roman Catholic Church distinguishes between two kinds of excommunication. In the first kind, the person is termed to be “toleratus,” or tolerated. The second form is more severe. The person is termed “vitandus,” or one to be avoided. The person is announced by name in a public “shaming,” generally at the See, itself, but for the gravest of crimes, this could take place at the Vatican. The accused is barred from the church sacraments, as well as Christian burial. The Catholic Church has a specified list, set out in the Codex Juris Canonici, of actions that end in excommunication. In January 1983, Pope John Paul II revised the list to “include abortion, violation of the confidentiality of confession, absolution by a priest of one who has committed a sin with the priest’s assistance, profanation of the consecrated communion host, consecration of a bishop without Vatican approval, a physical attack on the pope, and heresy and ‘abandoning the faith.’

“If excommunicated persons confess their sins and undergo penance, they are absolved; in some cases this absolution may come from any priest, but in many others it is reserved to the bishop or even to the Holy See alone, save in periculo mortis (‘in danger of death’). Excommunication should be distinguished from two related forms of censure, suspension and interdict interdict [a remedy granted by a magistrate on the sole basis of his authority, against a breach of civil law for which there is no stipulated remedy. Interdicts can be provisionary, opening the way for further action or final.] Suspension applies only to clergy and denies them some or all of their rights; interdict does not exclude a believer from the communion of the faithful but forbids certain sacraments and sacred offices, sometimes to an entire area, town, or region.” [Excommunication]

Various churches handle the situation differently. In fact, some churches do not use the term excommunication, preferring to speak of church discipline. Reformed churches vest the authority for exercising discipline and, if need be, carrying out excommunication, in the session, which consists of the minister and the elders. The 30th article of the Westminster Confession of 1646 specified ‘admonition, suspension from the sacrament of the Lord’s Supper for a season, and excommunication from the church’ as the proper steps of discipline. The Lutheran tradition has followed Martin Luther’s catechism in speaking of ‘the power of the keys’ and in defining excommunication as the denial of the communion to public and obstinate sinners; the clergy and the congregation together have the right to exercise such discipline. In the Anglican Church the bishops have the right to excommunicate, but this right is almost never exercised. Where a Congregational polity and the principle of ‘believers’ Baptism’ are observed, discipline is often very rigorous. In American denominations of the Free Church tradition the term ‘churching’ a sinner refers to excommunication, while in the Mennonite-Amish tradition excommunication also entails social ‘shunning.’ [Excommunication]

During the Georgian Era, in which most of my books occur, two types of excommunication existed: Lesser and greater.

Some changes were made in 1813, which allowed the ecclesiastical courts to send people to the secular courts for contempt, instead of excommunicating them. Also, offense of church rites and tithes were to be sent to the secular courts instead of through excommunication. In such cases, one simply deprives the offender of church services and sacraments–including marriage and a Christian burial. This is pronounced in those who are obstinate and disobedient, such as not appearing at church court when summoned, not submitting to a penance, or not obeying another injunction of the court.

Google Books ~ Ecclesiastical Law by Richard Burns

The Doctrine of the Trinity Act 1813 (53 Geo. III c. 160. sometimes called the Trinitarian Act 1812) was an Act of the Parliament of the United Kingdom. It amended the Blasphemy Act of 1697 in respect to it Trinitarian provisions. The Blasphemy Act applied only to those educated in or having made profession of the Christian religion. The Act, passed July 21, was also variously known as the Unitarian Relief Act (Trinity Act), The Unitarian Toleration Bill, and Mr William Smith’s Bill, after Whig politican William Smith. The Act granted toleration for Unitarian worship, as previously the Toleration Act 1689 had only granted toleration to those Protestant dissenters who accepted the Trinity. [Note! The Blasphemy Act was repealed in 1967, implicitly taking the Doctrine of the Trinity Act with it.]

The English Reports: Ecclesiastical, Admiralty, and Probate and Divorce https://books.google.com/books?id=fJRDAQAAMAAJ&pg=PA990& amp;lpg=PA990&dq=Lady+Ferrars +and+divorce&source=bl&ots= pU6j3dqWUT&sig=ACfU3U3sQ207 LvdC_GS82CI8Nav7GgjAlw&hl=en& amp;sa=X&ved=2ahUKEwiO8MHwze 7jAhVlmeAKHaTQBdMQ6AEwEnoECAgQAQ #v=onepage&q=Lady%20Ferrars%20 and%20divorce&f=false (link broken on purpose)

As one can see, there were several incidents brought for excommunication against gentlemen of the Realm. For example, Lady Ferrers went to the House of Lords to request a separation from her husband the earl. She told the HOL members that her husband had no fear of the church courts or of being excommunicated so she feared he would not allow her to live in peace apart from him.

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Lady Vane v. Lord Vane. Mich. Term, 3rd Session, 1736.

Cheslyn returned citation and prayed an appearance, or that Lord Vane be pronounced in contempt. The judge pronounced Lord Vane in contempt, but reserved his pain, and continued the assignation to next Court

Lady Ferrers v. Laurence Lord Ferres. Mich. Term, 2nd Session, 1757.

Proclamation for Laurence Earl Ferrers, and he not appearing, Crespigny accused his contumacy and prayed him to be decreed excommunicate for not giving in his answers.

The assignation and certificate to next Court, upon which day Earl Ferrers being thrice called and not appearing Crespigny accused his contumacy, and the judge (Sir Edward Simpson) at his petition pronounced him contumacious for not giving in his answers, but reserved his pain and continued the certificate and assignation to next Court. From which the assignation was continued to the by-day, when the earl not appearing, Crespigny accused his contumacy, and porrected a schedule of excommunication, which the judges read and signed in the presence of Stevens, and continued the rest of the assignation to the first session of next term.

11 January, 1757-8. — A requisition to take Lord Ferrers’ oath for absolution at the petition of her proctor, and also for his answers.

Lady Ferrers v. Robert Lord Ferrers* 23 May, 1792.

Heseltine alleged that Lord Ferrers had not paid the alimony due to his client pursuant to the monition with which he had been personally served; and therefore prayed the Judge to decree Lord Ferrers excommunicate, and porrected a schedule of excommunication which he prayed the Judge to read and sign; but the Judge (Sir Wm. Scott) declined doing so, and continued the certificate to the next Court.

Note. — The certificate was continued for several Court-days; and the alimony was at length alleged to have been paid.

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The greater excommunication deprived the man of church services and published his name abroad so that no church members who wanted to stay in good standing or have any communication or business with him. The church members were not to patronize the man’s shop, if he were a tradesman. He was not to be invited to dine or to visit or to attend a ball. One was supposed to shun his society until he repented.

One could be excommunicated for refusing to have a child baptized or for refusing the sacraments of the Lord’s Supper, or for idolatry, usury, simony, or perjury. All of these were brought before the ecclesiastical courts. One could be excommunicated for fighting in church. Though the clergyman was to say the person was excommunicated right then and there, it was truly necessary to have the bishop endorse the sentence to have the desired effect. If a plaintiff is excommunicated, a defendant can tell the court so. He must do this before he answers the plaintiff. If he can prove the excommunication, he need not answer the plaintiff in court until the plaintiff has been admitted back into the good graces of the church.

All excommunicated persons were not to step into the church.
Any one who pronounced himself an atheist and spoke out against the church could be excommunicated.
One who refused to pay his tithes or who shortchanged the rector and vicar of their tithes could be excommunicated, but after 1813, were likely to be sued in a secular court, rather than be brought before an ecclesiastical court.
One guilty of defamation could be excommunicated.
One could also be excommunicated for refusing to go to church.
Those who socialize with a excommunicated person or trade with him could be excommunicated as well.
An excommunicated person could not be a witness in a court.
He could not be buried in church grounds. He could not have the burial service read over his body.
If a person remains obstinate in refusing to answer or attend a church court, the church could ask the High Court of Chancery to send out a writ, which was to be answered in the Court of Kings’ bench. The writ was to be opened in King’s bench with all the justices present and handed to the sheriff to enforce. The Bench of Kings Court could put out notices to every sheriff and assize that the person is to be summoned, if not found at the usual address. If it takes all these people and writs, to find the person, he can be put into prison. He can be fined for not obeying. If arrested, he cannot have bail.

Posted in British history, England, Georgian England, Georgian Era, Regency era, religion, research, writing | Tagged bell book and candle, ecclesiastical courts, excommunication, Lady Ferrers, law, religion, Roman Catholics, secular courts | 2 Comments

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Did Lady Bertram Suffer from a Thyroid Condition? a Guest Post from Eliza Shearer

Laziness or Tiredness?

A Personal Experience of Hypothyroidism

Lady Bertram’s Possible Thyroid Problem

New and Old Solutions for Goitre

The Coventry Remedy

A Decision for the Bertrams

“Bell, Book, and Candle” and Excommunication During the Georgian Era

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