Happy (Belated) Birthday, George!

Today, I am reminded of birthdays.  For one, we have a little one who will be celebrating his first birthday shortly in my family.  For another, my grandmother would have been 102 today.  And August 12 marked one of the biggest birthday celebrations in the early nineteenth century, for it is the natal day of His Royal Highness George, the Prince of Wales, affectionately known as Prinny.
Marissa covered the interesting life of the man who would one day become George IV in several posts beginning here.  He could be as inquisitive and as capricious as a child, which is no doubt one of the reasons he sometimes insisted on a major blowout of a party on his birthday. 

For example, in 1814, he commissioned activities in all the public parks in London.  In Hyde Park and Green Park, he had booths and tents erected for a major fair with food, music, and dancing.  Little ships enacted a mock Naval battle on the Serpentine, and a balloon ascended from Hyde Park. The night ended with fireworks from an illuminated "temple." 

Meanwhile, over in St. James's Park, boats paraded in a regatta, and the military held an encampment through which the fashionable might promenade.  A Chinese pagoda built over the canal launched fireworks at the end of the night.

And while all this entertainment was open to everyone of any class for free, certain advertisements of the event stressed that the wealthy might purchase tickets:

"The rich may purchase the accommodation of a less occupied space, while the amusements of all will be equal and indeed universal," promised the Tradesman, an economic journal of the time.  "And the fund raised by the sale of the tickets (issued only, to be understood, for the due accommodation of certain classes) will be appropriated to some great and benevolent endowment, suited to the occasion and commemorative of it."

The rest of the cost, noted the Tradesmen, would be taken out of government funds, with each department contributing.  I guess that's one way to fund a birthday party!

And speaking of parties, Marissa and I will be doing something a little different than celebrating for the next two weeks as we prepare to tackle several important familiar milestones like the first year of college for two very special young ladies.  So, there will be no blog posts between now and September 6.

Time for a party, perhaps?

Things You Don't Expect to See in Hyde Park

After penning more than 20 books set in early nineteenth century England, I can safely say that I’ve written about Hyde Park more than the average person. I’ve described riding scenes, walking scenes, and scenes in carriages. I’ve covered shivering in February and fluttering of fans in June. I’ve spun the tale of that favored time, two to five in the afternoon, when pedestrians, equipages, and riders thronged the park. And for this blog, we’ve shared military spectacles and mentioned balloon ascensions. So recently, when faced with writing another scene in Hyde Park, I wanted to do something different. Naturally, I decided to do some research. (Oh, lovely, lovely research!) That research confirmed the favored time (particularly on Sunday, apparently) and the various paths I’ve written about so many times: the sandy riding track that was Rotten Row, the pebbled paths around the glittering waters of the Serpentine, the longer amble across the lawns toward Kensington Palace. However, I discovered a few things I didn’t expect to find in Hyde Park.

• Cheesecake: Apparently eating cheesecake in Hyde Park has been a treat since the time of Elizabeth I. The main location to purchase it was a little house near the Serpentine. You’d buy a bit for you and your sweetie and either sit and munch while watching the crowds stroll by or take it with you on your own stroll or drive.
• Ancient glory, gone to seed: In the 1600s and 1700s, the aristocracy still thronged Hyde Park, but their favorite location was “The Ring,” a circle of track surrounded by tall elm trees. Compared with the stretches of ground used in the 1800s, the place was tiny. Not surprisingly, one of the ladies who frequented it called it a “dry, dusty horse circle.” Picture those horsey rides at state fairs, where the ponies plod in circles, and you won’t be far off, except the vehicles carrying the riders would have been far more gilded. Early mornings, the Ring was also the favored place for duels. By the middle of the nineteenth century, the stately elms, some as old as 300 years, had mostly been cut down and burned, the track grassed over. But as late as 1837 people still pointed it out as they drove through the park.

• Reservoir: Near Park Lane, the Chelsea Water Works erected a stone basin with a diameter for 200 feet. The water, pumped from the Thames, helped supply Kensington Palace. The reservoir must have presented a lovely site, situated in the center of a grand Walnut-Walk, now also gone. However, it was capped with Portland stone to prevent suicides. Ug!
• Powder magazine: This surprised me the most. During the Napoleonic Wars, the Army actually mixed and stored gunpowder in Hyde Park. According to one source, the powder magazine stored more than one million balls and blank ammunition, ready for use at a moment’s notice. I suppose having such a store close at hand was a comfort to those who feared Napoleon would come storming across the Channel, and it was also probably handy for all those military reviews in the park. Then too, I would think the danger of accidental explosions was less among the green lawns and towering trees than in crowded stone buildings of the metropolis. But given the unstable nature of the powder back then, I still shudder.

I think I’ll head back for more cheesecake.

Supporting the Troops

[First off—our thoughts and prayers are with those affected by the earthquake and tsunami along the Pacific. Parts of my state are evacuating, and I’m thankful to have a mountain range between me and the coast. Wherever you are today, be safe!]
Spring is just around the corner! Can you feel it? The earliest flowers are poking up their heads, the grass is starting to green, and birds are singing. The coming of spring heralded many things for a young lady in nineteenth century London too: the opening of the Season right after Easter, more plays at the various theatres, and new performances at Astley’s Amphitheatre of Equestrian Delights. It also meant military spectacles.

Yes, various troops made a spectacle of themselves on a regular basis in London. Every morning around ten, soldiers marched and cavalry rode on the Horse Guards Parade at one end of St. James’s Park to the stirring beat of martial music. Two or three mornings during the week they invaded Hyde Park for more elaborate reviews, drilling and riding.

Of course, as a proper young lady, you would never ogle the men in uniform. But you could certainly find an excuse to indulge in the national fervor. You might have to take your sword-mad little brother to watch the hunks I mean soldiers drilling. You might have to go wave your handkerchief at a cousin of a dear friend, keeping up his morale and all that. And if you weren’t entirely sure when and where to accost er I mean encourage the troops, you could always send a servant to the offices of the Commander-in-Chief or the Adjutant General in Whitehall, where notices were posted as to when and where the troops would be drilling.


If you were very fortunate, and very well connected, you might be invited to review the troops with the monarch. King George had been famous for his reviews. Prinny, unfortunately, was less constant. For example, if it rained on a review day, he’d stay safe in Carleton House and send one of his underlings in his place, a habit that frustrated his advisors and his military. One of the most famous of his reviews happened after Napoleon was defeated the first time. Over 12,000 troops marshaled in Hyde Park to be reviewed by the Prince, King of Prussia, Czar Alexander I, the Duke of York, General Blucher, General Lord Beresford, and General Hill. Huge crowds turned out to cheer them.

All in the name of patriotism, of course.

Guest Blogger Sarah MacLean: Anything but Rotten!

First, I have to say how incredibly excited I am to be guest blogging here at Nineteen-teen! I’ve been a clandestine reader for AGES…where was this blog when I was in high school and secretly hiding my Regency novels inside my Geography book?!

As you know from my interview earlier this week, I write Regency romances, set in London and focused on British aristocracy, collectively referred to as the ton (the word came from French, literally meaning “tone” but used to describe people of fashion). Young women of the aristocracy had copious free time to do things like visit their friends, shop for dresses and ribbons, pretty themselves for the marriage mart and tool around Hyde Park.

Hyde Park is gorgeous—an enormous park in the center of London, covering more than 350 acres. I've been in love with it since a morning walk I took there at 6:30am on my first day in London a few years back. It has a fantastic history…for the Tudors fans in the crowd, Henry VIII took the space (which belonged to Westminster Abbey) in the early 1500s to use it for deer hunting. It belonged to the Crown for years, and then, finally, under Charles I, was turned into a public space. I could go on and on about its history without ever getting to the 19th century...here's a quick overview.

The King or Queen of England’s official seat is St. James Palace, but William III (who ruled with his wife Mary in the late 1600s) preferred the landscape of Kensington Palace, which at the time was far enough outside of London that it felt more rural. Because he had to travel back and forth from Kensington to St. James, he commissioned a private pathway that ran the length of Hyde Park and lit the path with 300 oil lamps, creating the first artificially lit road in England. William used the pathway all the time, and it was christened Route de Roi, which means “King’s Road” in French. Either the English couldn’t pronounce it, or they simply didn’t care that much…because that road is now called Rotten Row.

By the mid 18th century, Rotten Row was much more than a King’s private pathway. It was where everyone, EVERYONE would go to see and be seen. The road itself is a dirt pathway, so that was reserved mostly for horses and curricles or phaetons. Along the side was a length of green...and that was where ladies and gentleman of the aristocracy took their meandering (and I like to think gossipy) walks. It depends on what you read, but definitely by the mid-1800s, this was THE place to be, for both women and men, during the early afternoon--the fashionable hour. Charles James Apperley said of it:

"On any fine afternoon in the height of the London season…he will see a thousand well appointed equipages pass before him…Everything he sees is peculiar, the silent roll and easy motion of the London-built carriage, the style of the coachmen - it is hard to determine which shine brightest, the lace on their clothes, their own round faces, or flaxen wigs - the pipe-clayed reins - pipe-clayed lest they should spoil the clean white gloves…not forgetting the spotted coach-dog, which has been washed for the occasion…such a blaze of splendor…is now to be seen nowhere but in London."

For young women, Rotten Row was one of the places where they had a chance to show off and check out the rest of society--from women wearing the height of fashion to men in new and extravagant curricles. It was on Rotten Row that the ton got a look at those couples who were courting, the rakes who were on the lookout for wives or mistresses, the Prince Regent himself. When young ladies were on the marriage mart, a ride on Rotten Row--either on her own mount or inside his curricle with a chaperone at a discreet distance--was a broadcast to all and sundry that she might soon be off the market. Outdoor excursions gave young women a chance to spend time with the gentlemen who were courting them without risking their reputations.

Of course, the best thing about Rotten Row is that it makes for pretty neat fictional food. My favorite scene in my whole novel is one where the heroine and hero ride in his brand new curricle on Rotten Row to see and be seen. The history of Rotten Row is enough to send your imagination running away...without you!

Thanks for spending the week with us, Sarah, and best of luck with The Season! Don't forget that everyone who comments on either today's or last Tuesday's post will be entered in a drawing to win a signed copy of Sarah's book!

The Regina Scott Tour of England, Part I

Today we’re going to tour the sites of London that the famous author (okay, the author) Regina Scott found interesting on her most recent visit, starting with London and then heading to Bath. No stragglers. Do try to keep up. And we’re walking . . .

Ah, here we are in Hyde Park, where the young ladies and gentlemen of the nineteenth century went to see and be seen, strolling, riding horseback, or driving carriages. And here is the marvelous bronze statue of Achilles. He stands as a tribute to the Duke of Wellington and was cast in 1822 from French cannons captured at the battles of Salmanca, Vittoria, Toulouse, and Waterloo. He’s anatomically correct, but a fig leaf was added to keep the passing ladies from blushing. Wouldn’t you know it? Someone chipped it off in 1870! If you don’t mind blushing and look closely, you’ll see it’s back in place today.

As we cross Mayfair, where the Fashionable lived, we come to St. George’s Hanover Square. The London aristocracy often attended this church (although I’d wager they didn’t have the handy traffic signal then). It’s only a block off the nineteenth century shopping paradise of Bond Street.

A short hop on the Tube brings us to the Russell Square area, where there’s a number of townhouses from the nineteenth century. Then there’s this intriguing little relic, which I can only conclude served to block the street behind it from emptying onto a busier thoroughfare. Many of the public conveniences like lampposts and post boxes are marked to indicate in whose rein they were erected. Not surprisingly, you’ll find any number marked IIER (the current Queen Elizabeth). This one, however, dates from the time of King George IV (the Prince George who led the Regency period) and must have been erected between 1820 and 1830.

Now on to the British Museum, home of any number of amazing antiquities from around the globe. See here one small portion from an end pediment of the Parthenon Marbles, brought to England in the nineteenth century by Lord Elgin. The panels of the main frieze take up the entire length, both sides, of a very long room. You may remember my previous post on these sculptures, how they were much admired during the nineteenth century. All I can say is that they make me sad. They are beautiful but nearly all damaged in some way (headless, armless, handless). Still, I can see why artists came from far and wide to view them (and still do today).

Now back toward Hyde Park we take a stroll down St. James’s Street, bastion of the gentleman, with clubs and shops for cigars, fine wines, and perfumes. And here is White’s! The famous gentlemen’s club looks as dapper today as it did in the nineteenth century. This is where a young gentleman might go if an older friend or father had membership to play cards, read the paper, take a bit of dinner, and generally breathe in all that masculine air. No ladies allowed. And see what I mean about that bow window?

Everyone still here? Very good. Next week, on to Bath!