Being a Homebody

I’ve been very much a homebody lately—haven’t we all? Being at home for me hasn’t chafed at all: I’ve been gardening up a storm—look at those zucchini, cucumbers, and green beans! 

My fingernails are permanently stained from weeding, and Beatrice-bunny has been feasting on fresh parsley, cilantro, and Italian dandelions from my herb planters.

And when not outdoors, I’ve generally had a paintbrush in my hand—my office now wears a handsome coat of “Creamy Mushroom” and my bedroom is cool and blue in “Life at Sea.”

And then I remembered Mrs. Hurst Dancing.

Mrs.Hurst Dancing is a delightful book I mentioned here back in 2010—it’s a collection of drawings by Diana Sperling, a young lady who lived with her family at a comfortable country house in Essex in the early years of the 19^th century. Di (as she was called) recorded her family’s doings between 1812 and her marriage in 1834 in a series of watercolor drawings in a charmingly naïve style, and they are suffused with good humor and charm…as well as giving us an excellent picture of life among the country gentry at this time.

And what do we see the Sperling family doing? Among other things, they redecorate…

And plant a garden…

And suddenly, 1820 doesn’t seem all that far from 2020...

What are you doing at home?

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In a postscript, one other thing I’ve been doing is receiving some good news: Evergreen is a finalist in two RWA chapter contests—the NationalReaders’ Choice Awards and the Prism Awards. More news soon!

 

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.

Such Language! Part 26

More wordly wonderment and wackiness, with some help from the 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue. What's your favorite word this week?

Cream-pot love: Such as young fellows pretend to dairy-maids, to get cream and other good things from them. (My brother Augustus brings a posy every week to our cook and swears eternal devotion, but we all know it’s simply cream-pit love.)

Plump currant: I am not plump currant; I am out of sorts. (Overindulgence in Cook’s strawberry rhubarb curd tarts might explain why he is not in plump currant this evening.)

Inexpressibles: Breeches. (Augustus swore he hadn’t had a single tart, but suspicious red stains on his inexpressibles told a different tale.)

Fire shovel: He or she when young, was fed with a fire shovel; a saying of persons with wide mouths. (Augustus’s long devotion to Cook might explain why he appears to have been fed with a fire shovel, but Papa’s mouth is similarly wide.)

Gallied: Hurried, vexed, over-fatigued, perhaps like a galley slave. (Poor Cook tends to look more than a little gallied when Augustus is home from school during holidays.)

May bees: May bees don’t fly all the year long; an answer to anyone who prefaces a proposition with, It may be. (Augustus hopes that maybe the strawberries will have a longer season this year; in response, Cook was heard to mutter something about May bees.)

Hum durgeon: An imaginary illness. (Grandmama’s latest hum durgeon involves an infirmity in her spleen; her liver is undoubtedly relieved to have the week off.)

Cattle Call, Updated

I originally published this post in October 2009, but a couple of interesting tidbits came my way this week, which warranted an update.

Tattersall’s Repository was in the nineteenth century and still is Britain’s foremost auction house for horses (called cattle in that day). And not just any cattle. The description of the drawing from the early nineteenth century states, “Cart and agricultural horses are seldom offered for sale at this place, as the purchasers who attend here are devoted rather to the pursuit of pleasure than of business.”  

Founded in 1766 by Richard Tattersall, formerly a groom of the Duke of Kingston, and operated in the nineteenth century by his son, apparently also Richard, Tattersall’s was the place you went to purchase a saddle horse, carriage horse, hunters (horses you rode while hunting), and racehorses. They also auctioned carriages and coach-harness and hounds. It was located on the south side of Hyde Park Corner until 1865, when it relocated to even bigger digs near Knightsbridge Green. It is still in business in Newmarket. While many a Regency romance has called it Tattersall’s, the group itself has stopped using the possessive. https://www.tattersalls.com/

The space included stables and a central circle for checking out the horses and giving them a try. See the folly in the center? The bust on top is of Prinny, the Prince of Wales.

But the idea wasn’t just to buy a horse back then. A young gentleman might go to Tattersall’s even when it wasn’t a sale day on Monday or Thursday, just to be seen around “sporting” types. Tattersall’s was the home of the Jockey Club, the body that makes the rules for England’s races, so you were sure to run into people famous in the racing world. Then too, for about a pound a year, you could buy a subscription to a private room at Tattersall’s, where you could settle your bets. You see, true gentlemen didn’t carry sums of cash to the track. They met at Tattersall’s a few days later and settled their debts. So you could look like you were wealthy and privileged just by hanging around. 

Approximately 100 horses a week passed “under the hammer” of the auctioneer. Saddle horses cost 40 to 200 pounds, a pair of coach horses from 150 to 420 pounds, outstanding hunters around 350 pounds, and racehorses 1,500 pounds.

Think you’d like to purchase one? Think again. Women were not welcome at Tatt’s. You’d have to send a male agent if you wanted to purchase one of the prime bits of blood there. Or even a horse.

Picnic Plethora

Summer is coming, and the days are calling for barbecues, grilling over the fire, and picnics. Eating out of doors was done in the early nineteenth century as well, but not always the way we might picture it.

As I was researching for this post, I ran across a number of excellent blogs, where my sister authors and other lovers of history had already covered picnics wonderfully well. So, I thought I’d share.

Maria Grace, Austen Variations, shares the origin of picnics, how they were treated in the Regency period, and even a menu.

Thither Jane Austen, a site for costuming and resources related to Jane Austen and her work offers another great set of recipes, and the pictures are to die for. I want to be on that hillside, right now!

The Jane Austen Centre in Bath describes details from the picnic scene in Emma.

Hampshire Cultural Trust has a lovely Jane Austen-inspired picnic pack you can download.

A few years ago Houghton Lodge Gardens, also in Hampshire, hosted a Regency picnic. Though the event is over, the pictures are delightful.

Okay, now I really must go find a blanket and a shady spot and dream of England.

Regency Fabrics, Part 29

Here’s another post in our ongoing series on Regency fabrics.

As I have in previous posts, I’ll be examining actual fabric samples glued into several earlier editions of Ackermann’s Repository, samples supplied by the manufacturers and published by Ackermann in order to boost the British cloth-making industry at a time when exporting British goods to Europe was almost impossible because of the Napoleonic war. I'll give you a close-up scan of each sample, the published description if available, and my own observations of the color, weight, condition, and similarity to present-day materials, to give you as close a picture as possible of what these fabrics are like. So here we go!

Today’s four samples are from the March 1813 issue of Ackermann’s Repository. The overall condition of my copy is very good, with just some toning around the edges of the page. The samples are in overall good shape as well, with perhaps a bit of toning on sample No. 4 and some white staining on No. 2.

No. 1, a celestial blue figured sarsnet, adapted equally for the dress robe, bodice, and spencer, as for the spring mantle or pelisse. Trimmings of swansdown, thread lace, fancy gimp, or the new imperial shag, are appropriate decorations for articles composed of this material. It is sold by Messrs. George and Bradley, Holywell-st. Strand.

My comments: This has faded until it’s almost impossible to see that it was once blue, alas, but it remains a very pretty fabric, of a finely woven silk with a twill background and a floral-like pattern scattered over it. It seems too light in weight to be used for a pelisse, but would indeed have made a lovely dress robe.

No. 2, a figured taffety, from the house of Messrs. Layton and Shears. This unique article is calculated for the intermediate order of costume, and is to be purchased of various shades; and when contrasted with trimmings of coloured satin or ribband, forms a most pleasing domestic habit.—To be purchased of Messrs. Layton and Shears, Bedford House, Henrietta-street, Covent-Garden.

My comments: It’s a little hard to see it in the scan because of the whitish staining, but this has a stylized leaf pattern woven into it, with an overall twill weave. It feels like a light but sturdy cotton.

No. 3, a fashionable small patterned printed cambric, for morning dresses or domestic wear.—Dresses composed of this simple material, are either formed in plain wraps, high gowns, buttoned or trimmed down the front; or in the cottage jacket and petticoat. These small patterned printed cambrics are considered even more genteel than the white robe, for morning wear. The article here exhibited is sold by T. and J. Smith, No. 3, Tavistock-street, Covent-Garden.

My comments: Well, my preference would be for “white robes” for morning wear (some of the white muslin morning dresses in Ackermann are just charming) but to each her own. This looks like quilting cotton, but is a bit heavier in weight; the threads are tightly and evenly woven.

No. 4 is a sample of the imperial patent cotton-thread shirting, brought out by Mr. Millard, the proprietor of the East India Warehouse, No. 16, Cheapside. Its excellence consists in its desirable property of preventing the taking of cold, its superior durability, and its great economy, being of a fineness of quality equal to, and nearly half the price of, Irish and foreign linens. The most skilful and eminent of the faculty will hold it in high estimation, being of a nature to prevent a too profuse perspiration, which flannel is liable to create, at the same time that it does not too severely check that vital principle of health. We, therefore, fell much pleasure in recommending the article to the particular attention of our readers, on account of its superior comfort and utility. It is sold, whole-sale and by the piece, at the before-mentioned warehouse, No. 16, Cheapside, and at no other house in London. The quality of 2s. per yard is equal to that of linen at 3s. 6d. and that of 2s. 6d.to linen of 4s. 6d. and so on in progressive advancement.—Foreign orders, and merchants purchasing for exportation, are treated on the usual liberal terms peculiar to this house.

My comments: This is interesting stuff. The thread in this fabric is fairly fine but not as evenly spun as some of the other cotton fabrics we see here for ladies’ dresses; it’s a tad heavier than the cotton of today’s pinpoint oxford cloth. The true selling point seems to be the idea that cotton prevented one from catching colds because of its breathability. Note that it is Indian cotton, which was just on the upswing in terms of sales.

Any thoughts on this month’s fabrics?