Blast From the Past: Way Cool!

I’m keeping my fingers crossed that fall arrives soon because (a) it’s been stupidly hot and humid here and (b) our central air conditioner needs to be replaced. Yikes! Perhaps I should try recreating Cornelis Drebbel’s clever idea for air-conditioning Westminster Abbey...back in 1620!

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Speaking of air conditioning, did you know that the first air conditioned building in London was Westminster Abbey...back in the year 1620? No? Well, it's a little out of our beloved 19th century, but it's such a fun story!

James I was King of England then. He was getting on in years and suffered from several health complaints, among them an extreme sensitivity to sunlight. He was also deeply paranoid after surviving several assassination attempts and always wore thickly padded doublets, even in summer. So I don't think he very much looked forward to the advent of warmer weather, even though England's summers tend to the more temperate. Evidently he had a discussion about this with his court magician, one Cornelis Drebbel, who offered to make a room as cold as winter in the midst of summer for his majesty. James jumped at the offer, and chose the room he wanted cooled--namely, the Great Hall of Westminster Abbey!

Drebbel was an interesting fellow, much closer to a Leonardo da Vinci than to a magician, though he often found it easier to get people to listen to him about his scientific studies if he pretended they were magic. He was a pioneer in the study of submarines (for all intents and purposes discovering oxygen in the process, 150 years before Joseph Priestley) and took King James for a ride in one in the Thames, making James the first British monarch to travel underwater.

Drebbel did not leave a detailed account of how he cooled Westminster on that July day in 1620, but cool it he did--in fact, James had to leave after becoming chilled. But according to accounts left by some of the courtiers who were there, it's possible to reconstruct what Drebbel did: he and his assistants brought several long, low metal troughs and set them around the edges of a narrower part of the Hall, filling them with salt and ice cut from the Thames in winter and stored in ice houses. They also added nitre, today called saltpetre or potassium nitrate, to the troughs, which in combination with the salt and icy water created a compound that was actually below the freezing point of water. Drebbel had doubtless observed that cold air sinks and displaces warm air upward, so by carefully selecting his location in that narrow part of the hall, was probably able to cool the lower part of the air (and force the warm air up toward the lofty ceiling) to a relatively chilly sixty five degrees or so...which would certainly feel like winter if you'd just stepped inside from 80 degree heat.

Smart guy!

At the Point of Fisticuffs: Naming Mt. Rainier

I loved getting to write about the history in my own backyard for A View Most Glorious, out in October. But I ran across a few things that surprised me, and none more so than the controversy surrounding the name of one of the highest mountains in the Continental U.S.

Captain George Vancouver claimed the mountain when he sighted it from his ship on his survey of the Pacific Coast of North America in 1792. He named it after his friend, Rear Admiral Peter Rainier. Later settlers to the area called it Tacoma or Tahoma, thinking they were following the tradition of some of the tribes in the area. When the Northern Pacific Railway roared into the city of Tacoma in 1883, the executives were determined to encourage tourism to spur rail travel. All their literature touted trips to Mt. Tacoma.

Suddenly, the name became a household debate. Prominent citizens brought forth pamphlets listing names of tribal members favoring the name Tacoma. Others brought forth scientists and political leaders who favored Rainier. Seattle accused Tacoma of attempting to appropriate the mountain. Tacoma accused Seattle of attempting to steal their history.

In 1890, the nascent U.S. Board of Geographic Names listed the name as Rainier. That only fueled the raging fires. When a map of Washington State was displayed at the World’s Fair of 1893, viewers actually started a fight over which name should be on the map!

A group of Washingtonians petitioned the U.S. Geographic Board to change the name in 1890, 1917, and 1921. All three times they were denied. Finally, the matter reached Congress, resulting in a Joint Resolution to change the name. By that time, those in favor of the name had created a sizeable mythology.

First, they claimed the name Tacoma must be kept to honor Native Americans. The Geographic Board’s research of tribes in the area concluded that Tacoma or Tahoma might be the name of any snow-capped mountain, not Rainier specifically. The name might also have been completely fabricated!

Second, they claimed that Admiral Rainier was unworthy of having anything named after him. He was a pirate who had “raided our shores, captured our citizens, and burned our cities.” The closest Rainier had come to America was the West Indies where, as a young lieutenant, he had helped capture an American privateer during the Revolutionary War and been wounded for his trouble.

Finally, they came out against the Geographic Board itself. They claimed the 1890 pronouncement had been reached after a “midnight orgy” at the capital, in which the attorney for the Rainier Brewing and Malting Company, Senator Watson C. Squire, had delivered a train car full of beer and other intoxicants, to bribe the Geographic Board into keeping the name Rainier. Big problem with that story: Rainier Beer was a brand name, not a company, and Senator Squire had no connection to it. 

In their report to Congress, the Geographic Board stated that to change the name “would be a blow to the stability of geographic and historical nomenclature, and a reflection upon the intelligence of the American people.”

The Seattle Post-Intelligencer, one of the leading newspapers in Washington State, added, “It is of course possible to decree that henceforth the name of the mountain shall be ‘Mount Tacoma’ or ‘Mount Somethingelse.’ But no decree can make people use the name. It will still be ‘Mount Rainier’ in speech and written word.”

Funny thing about that. Rarely does anyone here call it Mount Rainier. To us, it’s just “the mountain.” 😊

Apparently, my own love for that mountain was showing when I wrote A View Most Glorious, as I learned that Booklist, the publication of the American Library Association, has awarded it a coveted starred review!

“As a native to the Mount Rainier region, Scott writes with an exhilarating wealth of sensory detail, bringing the setting to such vivid life the mountain becomes a dynamic character in its own right.”

A rose by any other name…

A Walk in the Park

Well, here’s a pretty thing! La Belle Assemblée has done (did?) it again with a charming ensemble for a summer walk in the park.

 

The description reads:

No. 2.—Kensington Garden Dress

Mantle of green crape, with a train terminating in a point, trimmed all round with feather trimming of the same material; a tippet with a pointed cape attached to the mantle, the ends of which cross the bosom, and are tied behind with a ribband; with this is worn a Gipsy hat of the same coloured crape; the crown quartered with a small knot on the top, and on the left side a cord and tassels; the hat trimmed at the edge the same as the mantle. Robe dress, walking length, of white washing sarsnet, with an embroidered border.

So much going on here! First, while I love the color green, 19^th century green clothing always gives me the heebie-jeebies because many green dyes were…well, as poisonous as heck. This might have predated the arsenical greens of a slightly later date, but still…

I do love the idea of a diaphanous cloak, though. I would love to see a sample of the fabric this was made from. And the feather trim! It says in the description that the trim is made from the same material as the mantle itself, so I assume it is made of little tongues of fabric that probably ravel a bit and look quite feathery. The tippet adds a layer of interest—I would like to have seen a back view. And oh my goodness, I can just picture a “meet-cute” where our absent-minded hero, his nose buried in a book, crosses paths with our heroine by stepping on the trailing point of her mantle…

As for the rest: I wonder if the brim of the hat was stiffened with wire or a strip of buckram under the feather trim? The gloves appear to be York tan, with slippers of a similar shade. And that parasol! Blue plaid with a fringe—what a confection.

I would totally have worn this dress (especially if I got that meet-cute with the handsome book-reading fellow!) How about you?

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One more thing: I’ve been posting these wonderful La Belle Assemblée prints and the Ackermann fabric samples I’ve been featuring on my Pinterest account. Have a look! It’s kind of neat to see them all in one place.

 

Blast from the Past: I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream for Gunter’s

It’s hot where I am again, and I recently discovered a local brand of Southern-style old fashioned butter pecan ice cream. Maybe that’s why I thought of this post from July 2009. Enjoy! 

As we have mentioned, ice cream was just as popular among nineteenth century ladies and gents as it is today. While few places in England get as hot as the American southwest (or my lowly abode, which saw triple digit heat the last few weeks), remember too that for most of the period there was no mechanical air conditioning or refrigeration. Overhead fans and personal fans had to be moved by hand (your servant’s or your own). If food was cooled at all, it was on ice delivered manually. And on warm summer days, there was nothing finer than scooping into a dish of icy cool ice cream. Of course, it would have been a little difficult for these scrumptious treats to have been delivered by cart. Instead, in London, the fashionable flocked to a little confectionary shop at 7-8 Berkeley Square owned by James Gunter and his family.

Gunter’s was extremely popular for several reasons. For one thing, the food was delightful, with ices and sorbets in flavors like pistachio, pineapple, jasmine, white coffee, and elderflower. For another, it was right across the street from a park with maple trees, so you always had a place to go in the shade to eat your treat. But the most important reason Gunter’s was so popular was the curbside service!

Gunter’s was one of the first drive up eateries. During a time when it would ruin a young lady’s reputation to be seen eating alone with a man inside a restaurant, it was perfectly acceptable to be seen eating outdoors with one! So, a gentleman would drive his carriage up under the shade of the trees across the street, and waiters from Gunter’s would dash across traffic to take his order. They’d then dash back across traffic to get the ices and return them to the gentleman and his lady. The lady would sit in the carriage and eat her treat while the gentleman generally lounged against it and chatted with her while eating his. 

I’m sure her seat gave her quite the vantage point. After all, part of the fun of eating at Gunter’s was seeing who else was eating at Gunter’s. 

Not quite the same as those ice cream trucks, huh?

A Bittersweet Conference

 

This past weekend Regina and I were both happy and sad to attend Regency Fiction Writers’ 2021 Virtual Conference. We’re sad because it has now been two very long years since we were able to have our annual “girls’ week” together at a conference, the one time in the year where we get to see each other in person. But happy because it was an amazing learning experience!

To backtrack: you may remember Regina’s post last fall about the opening of a brand-new organization for writers of fiction set in the Regency period. Regency Fiction Writers grew out of the now-closed The Beau Monde chapter of Romance Writers of America. And rather than being limited to Regency romance fiction, RFW is open to writers of all fiction set in the “Long Regency”, a period of time from 1780-1840 that saw enormous changes in the world as a whole, not just in Britain. Writers of mysteries, thrillers, fantasies, science fiction (there’s some very cool Regency steampunk out there!) and general fiction set during those years are welcome in the organization.

The workshops reflected that broader mission. Nile Green presented a workshop entitled “Mr. D’Arcy’s Persians: Exploring Regency England through the Eyes of Six Muslim Students”, based on research from his book The Love of Strangers (which I’ve already ordered!) C.S. Harris, author of the Regency-set Sebastian St. Cyr mystery series, was a keynote speaker. And author Tracee Garner gave a wonderful, informative workshop in “Happily Ever After for All: Inclusivity in Your Writing."

Of course, there were more traditionally Regency topics discussed as well. One of my favorite workshops was by Jayne Davis and past NineteenTeen guest Gail Eastwood on Regency Language, and I was attacked by a plot bunny the size of Harvey during Susan de Guardiola’s workshop on Masquerades and Fancy Dress Balls.

There were several other workshops, all excellent, and even a Regency dance party, the Soiree, that included video clips of Regency dancing to replace the dancing that usually takes place at in-person conferences…which will (hopefully) be able to resume next year. But I think RFW will try to continue to present a virtual conference alongside a live one. If you have the least interest in writing about the Regency era, I highly recommend it.

Even though I didn’t get to see Regina. *sigh*

Launching the Captain

Captain Quillan St. Claire, that is. He is the Lord of the Smugglers in 1804 Dorset, England. Okay, so I have a soft spot in my heart for witty, dashing, slightly dangerous heroes, particularly when they're humbled by the love of a strong-willed woman. That’s one of the reasons I’ve been eagerly waiting to write the sixth, and final-for-now, story in my Grace-by-the-Sea series. The Siren’s Captain officially released July 19 and has been getting lovely reviews.

“FIVE STARS! A fantastic conclusion to the series! Long have I waited to read Quill’s story and I am in no way disappointed. It was definitely worth the wait.” – Huntress Reviews

“Regina Scott is a dab hand at a Regency tale, and these stories are super good. Well done!” – Simply Susan Review Blog 

Here’s the story in a nutshell:

French singer and spy Marie-Louise Fortier has spent her life protecting idealistic men like her father, who died trying to wrest France back from Napoleon. So when the British War Office asks her to safeguard a former naval captain in the little spa village of Grace-by-the-Sea from the emperor’s threats, she doesn’t hesitate, even if it means pretending to be engaged to the legendary Captain St. Claire to remain at his side.

Quillan St. Claire has been taking care of himself since he was a foundling. He’s fought Napoleon in battle and now smuggles the tyrant’s secrets from France to aid England’s cause. He’s certainly not willing to trust the pretty soprano with his life, yet her siren’s voice seems to call to him. As danger draws closer, these two must work together to protect the friendly little village that welcomed them, only to discover that protecting each other may mean risking their hearts for a real chance at love.

Those of you who have been following the series may also enjoy the courtship of another resident of Grace-by-the-Sea, Maudie Tully. I couldn’t resist giving our whimsical wise woman a happily ever after.

You can find The Siren’s Captain at fine online retailers in ebook format and print on Amazon:

Smashwords 

Amazon (Affiliate Link) 

Barnes and Noble 

Apple Books 

Kobo 

Set your sails for Grace-by-the-Sea today.

Guest Blogger Brenda W. Clough: Cemetery Decor

 

Memorial Day may have already happened, but in Victorian England, every day was Memorial Day. My friend and fellow Book View Cafe author Brenda W. Clough explains why.

The 19^th century was prime time for cemeteries and monuments. Partly this was a status thing. If you were important, you wanted a big fancy tomb so that everyone for the next thousand years or so would appreciate your status. Also partly this was just the look of the time. For Victorians, more was more – another pattern, some more marble fretwork, always good.

Photo by DAVID ILIFF. License: CC BY-SA 3.0

The Albert Memorial, erected by Queen Victoria in memory of her husband Prince Albert, carries this just about as far as it can go.  It cost millions of pounds and is adorned with lots of friezes and allegorical statue groups. The ornate Gothic spire, 176 feet tall, shelters a statue of the Prince plated in gold.  The Queen wanted to be sure that everybody, for all time, could see at a glance how important and wonderful her Prince was. 

 

But there’s also the issue of personalization. You don’t want your tomb to look just like everyone else’s, do you? Sure, you could just have a statue of yourself, but everybody famous does that. When you look at that gold statue of Prince Albert, do you get any sense of why he was interesting? No.

 

Photo by Nicholas Jackson

This one is a great example of how it should be done. George Wombwell ran a famous traveling menagerie in the mid-1800s in England. His favorite lion Nero went with him everywhere. Now a statue of Nero lies mourning on Wombwell’s grave in London, making the lion tamer’s last resting place instantly recognizable and one of the favorite sights of Highgate Cemetery.

And then there are purely practical considerations. In Victorian England it was difficult for doctors to study anatomy by dissection. The only way to get a fresh human body was by finding an execution, and there just weren’t that many criminals getting the death penalty. The demand became so severe that a grave-robbing industry sprang up. Criminals would sneak into the cemetery at night, suss out the freshest grave, and dig up the coffin. Then they’d pop the body out for sale to med students.

 

Mortsafe, Greyfriars Kirkyard; photo by Kim Traynor

It got sufficiently bad that the family might guard the cemetery at night for a while, to be sure that Grandpa didn’t get stolen after his funeral. If they had the money, they might also have a mortsafe installed over the gravesite. This was simply a large grate bolted down over the tomb, something like a bike lock only for coffins. Nowadays people like to think that these were to be sure the dead person didn’t rise up like a zombie. But in the 19^th century, it was to ensure that he’d really rest in peace.  

 

Brenda W. Clough is the first female Asian-American SF writer, first appearing in print in 1984. Her novella ‘May Be Some Time’ was a finalist for both the Hugo and the Nebula awards and became the novel Revise the World. Her latest time travel trilogy is Edge to Center, available at Book View Café.  

 

In 2021 she began publishing Marian Halcombe, a series of eleven neo-Victorian thrillers. Marian will tell you herself that she is a proper Victorian lady, because this keeps people happy--and unsuspecting. But those who know her will tell you that she's the most dangerous woman in Europe. Her adventures are appearing one a month at BVC, and the first volume is free! Get it here: Marian Halcombe | Book View Cafe. Brenda's complete bibliography is up on her web page, brendaclough.net