Date That Word!

Many authors of historical fiction work hard to use period-correct terms. For many years, I coveted a copy of The Oxford English Dictionary, which dates the origin of words. I was overjoyed to come upon an abbreviated version (The Oxford Universal Dictionary, only 2,515 pages) at a rummage sale a few years ago. I also knew about Google ngrams, which track the use of words in digitized books held by Google. For example, from 1804 to 1810, the use of the word redingote increased, only to plummet from 1810 to 1812 before increasing again. But this week I stumbled upon the Merriam-Webster Time Traveler site, which I must admit is rather addicting!

The Time Traveler shows which words first appeared in print for a particular year. For my Nothing Short of Wondrous, set in 1886, I might have used apochromatic (describing a lens that corrects aberrations), attackman, and Broncobuster. My hero and heroine might have eaten French fries and drank milkshakes. I thought snow-in-summer particularly appropriate for Yellowstone.

On the other hand, 1804, the year my Grace-by-the-Sea series is set, debuted such gems as apiculate (ending abruptly in a sharp point), chicken-livered, shunpike, and underclothing. Dr. Bennett of The Artist’s Healer might not have been pleased to see medicinal leech come into vogue, and Rosemary Denby, who will be the heroine in the upcoming The Governess’s Earl, would not like to be called a vulgarian. But what surprised me most was that 1804 was the first year Sir Roger de Coverley appeared in print. I had thought both the dance and the fictional character to predate that time.

Then again, words that first appeared in my birthyear included biodegradable, DEFCON, hovercraft, microcircuit, radio-galaxy, and upmanship. I think I’ll take apiculate instead!

And speaking of dating words, Marissa and I are going to time it so that we take turns posting on Tuesdays, so look for a post from her next week and me the week following.

Blast from the Past: Summer Exhibitionists

When I first penned this post in May 2009, I had two heroines who were painters, Lady Emily Southwell of the Lady Emily Capers, and her mentor, Hannah Alexander of Secrets and Sensibilities. Now I have three with the introduction of Abigail Archer in The Artist’s Healer. So, it seemed a good time to bring this post back to the forefront.

The sun is shining, the air is warming—summer is here, and the bravest are starting to sport some skin! In the nineteenth century there was another way to exhibit oneself in England. One of the highlights of summer was the Royal Academy’s Summer Exhibition. Everyone who could afford the 1-shilling entry fee strolled through the galleries to view paintings and sculpture from England’s most renowned artists. 

And a few not so renowned.

The Summer Exhibition, which ran from May to August, was open to amateur artists as well. All you had to do was submit your work of art to a jury of members of the Royal Academy of Art. This Selection Committee deliberated for days to choose around 1,000 works of art to be featured in the exhibit. Supposedly footmen carried in the art and placed it before the jurors, who gazed on it and gave a thumbs up/thumbs down kind of vote. Pieces that received enough thumbs up were allowed in the exhibit. 

But there was a second hurdle to jump before a piece actually appeared to the public. Pieces approved by the Selection Committee went before the Hanging Committee, who had the unenviable job of squeezing all the pieces into the galleries for viewing. As you can see from the picture, they literally crammed everything into the space. Sometimes, a painting that was approved by the Selection Committee was rejected by the Hanging Committee because they just couldn’t make it fit!

But can you imagine the excitement of a young lady or gentleman getting that final letter of acceptance? Your work is going to be sitting alongside Constable, Turner, Rowlandson, and other household names of the art world! For a few days before the exhibit opened, you were allowed to join these impressive talents to schmooze and add “finishing touches” to your piece. And if your piece was hung “on the line,” a railing that ran around the room and served as an anchor for the paintings, that meant you had truly arrived. After all, inferior pieces were hung in the stratosphere, where the audience needed a telescope to see the details.

Today, the opening of the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition is still a red carpet event bringing notables from around the world. This year, for the first time, it will run in the fall and winter, from October 6, 2020, to January 3, 2021, because of the coronavirus. The world may change, but art lives on.

The Artist Arrives, and Regina Hits 50!

Fifty books, that is. 😊

While Marissa and I were off celebrating Independence Day, the third book in my Grace-by-the-Sea series made its debut! The Artist’s Healer picks up where The Heiress’s Convenient Husband leaves off, with the discovery that French spies might be lurking in the little village by the sea and the accidental shooting of Abigail Archer.

Spunky artist and entrepreneur Abigail Archer is determined to see her friend, Jesslyn Denby, restored as director of the spa at Grace-by-the-Sea, even if that means ousting the news physician who took her place. A shame she was recently injured and requires him to dance attendance on her. But if he thinks she’ll meekly accept his orders, he’d better think again!

Doctor Linus Bennett came to the little coastal village with his young son to escape a troubled past. He’s not about to lose his post to some crusader, but the pretty painter awakens feelings he’d thought long buried. When it appears the French are about to invade, Abigail and Linus must work together to save the village. In doing so, the doctor may just find that falling in love with the outspoken Abigail is the best prescription to heal his wounded heart.

This book is near and dear to me because it is my fiftieth. That’s right, Regina Scott has 50 books to her name. I am so honored and blessed to be able to make that claim.

To celebrate, I’m giving away an e-book copy of my first published Regency romance, The Unflappable Miss Fairchild, and a $50 gift certificate to Amazon to one winner. To enter, go here, starting on Monday, July 13 and ending July 19. Open internationally. 

Fifty books! Who knew? Here’s to reaching for your dreams!

Don’t Go Near the Waters!

I must admit to some trepidation when I decided to make the hero of my upcoming release, The Artist’s Healer, a physician. Medicine and the medical profession aren’t subjects I delve into much today, so tackling them in the nineteenth century seemed daunting. But once again, I was delighted that my research (lovely, lovely research) turned up some wonderful source materials, including a treatise that was used to teach medicine during the early nineteenth century. My copy was the sixteenth edition, published in 1798 and authored by Dr. William Buchan, Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians, Edinburgh.

Dr. Buchan was something of a celebrity. His treatise was first published in 1769, and the last edition was published in 1871, decades after his death. It was translated into most European languages. The full title (and it’s a whopper!) is Domestic Medicine; Or, A Treatise on the Prevention and Cure of Diseases by Regimen and Simple Medicines, With an Appendix, Containing a Dispensatory for the Use of Private Practitioners. To which are Added, Observations on the Diet of the Common People Recommending a Method of Living Less Expensive, and More Conducive to Health, Than the Present. Phew!

But what tickled me most about the book was the entire chapter devoted to saltwater bathing and drinking mineral waters at a spa.

Dr. Buchman has a number of concerns about spas. “No part of the practice of medicine is of greater importance, or merits more the attention of the physician, as many lives are lost, and numbers ruin their health, by cold [saltwater] bathing, and the imprudent use of the mineral waters.”

According to Buchman, only a physician in residence at a spa will have occasion to both know the properties of the waters and to apply them to cure disease. When used improperly, he claims saltwater bathing can cause apoplexy, fever, and diseases that outlast any benefit. He thinks even less highly of warm water bathing but acknowledges that it is little used in Britain. (Personally, I wouldn’t brag about that!)

He does, however, believe that saltwater bathing is particularly useful for those living in populous cities, who “indulge in idleness and lead sedimentary lives.” He advises it for the nervous, which “includes a great number of the male and almost all of the female inhabitants of great cities.” Humph! He also discusses the practice of throwing cold water over a person coming out of a warm bath. “Though this may not injure a Russian peasant, we would not recommend it to the inhabitants of this country.”

He has more to say about drinking mineral waters. He recommends drinking a little over time, because too much too fast will cause a “purge.” (Anyone who has endured the preparations for a colonoscopy will understand fully.) He prescribes a half pint glass at bedtime and an hour before breakfast, dinner, and supper.

But my favorite recommendation? When one goes to a spa to drink the waters, it is best to relax, breathe the fresh air, stroll the shops, and enjoy the company. My hero physician, and the citizens of Grace-by-the-Sea, would agree.

A Cover for An Artist

Have you seen the lovely graphics so many authors use on social media and their blogs? I must admit to jealousy. While period paintings abound, and can often be used royalty free, it’s harder to find actual pictures of historical places and things without pesky reminders of the modern world. Lovely Regency-built townhouses sport television disks. Stately interiors betray electrical outlets. And who decided to park a BMW in front of Boodle’s!

All that said, it takes a talented artist to make a modern photograph look as if it depicts the nineteenth century, particularly the idealized nineteenth century we love to embrace in our romances. That’s only one of the reasons I’m so tickled with the cover for The Artist’s Healer, the third book in my Grace-by-the-Sea series. As I have mentioned, my little spa village on the Dorset coast is modeled after a real village, West Lulworth; its horseshoe-shaped cove on the Channel; and Lulworth Castle on the headland. It’s relatively easy to find a photograph of the village streets, but I hesitated to use them because of the modern touches like curbs and street signs on poles.

“Let me worry about that,” my artist, Kim Killion of The Killion Group, said.

Turns out, I didn’t have to worry at all.

I give you the cover for The Artist’s Healer, featuring landscape artist Abigail Archer.

Spunky Abigail Archer is determined to see her friend, Jesslyn Denby, restored as spa director, even if that means ousting the new physician. A shame she must submit to the fellow’s attentions as he attempts to heal her recent wounds. Doctor Linus Bennett came to the little village of Grace-by-the-Sea with his young son to escape a troubled past. He’s not about to lose his post to some crusader, but the pretty painter awakens feelings he’d thought long buried. As the French edge ever closer to the little village, could Abigail be just the prescription for healing Linus’s wounded heart?

You can preorder The Artist’s Healer ahead of a June 29, 2020, release date at fine online retailers:

Smashwords  

Amazon 

Barnes and Noble 

Apple Books 

And I do hope you enjoy the upcoming Memorial Day holiday as well as you can right now. I will be taking next Friday off to celebrate. Look for the next post from me on May 29.