NHG Library: "In the Words of Women"

Susan reporting:

March is officially Women's History Month. This has always seemed a mixed blessing: yes, it's wonderful to shine the limelight on women of the past, but why does half the world's population only merit one month's worth of attention out of twelve? Perhaps that's more apt then I want to admit, for often it does seem that men garner eleven times the ink in history books.

I've recently discovered a new book that will help tip the balance more fairly. In the Words of Women: The Revolutionary War & the Birth of a Nation 1765-1799 by Louise V. North, Janet M. Wedge, and Landa M. Freeman is a collection of the writings – including letters, diaries, poems, and journals – of dozens of women living in the turbulent era of the American Revolution. Whether addressing matters of daily life such as tending sick children and coaxing unhappy husbands, difficult questions of loyalty versus patriotism, or the shocking violence and loss of the war around them, the voices of these women, both patriots and loyalists, sound with astonishing clarity. This is one of those books that's a treat to read straight through, or to dip into a random, and I can't recommend it enough. For more from the book and about the authors, visit their website/blog here.

This passage from a letter from In the Words of Women shows how vulnerable women were to enemy forces. Eliza Yonge Wilkinson (1757-1813) of South Carolina was a young widow of twenty-three and a firm believer in the patriot cause. When British and American forces converged on Charleston, she took refuge in her sister's nearby plantation house, but on June 3, 1780, the house was ransacked by British troops:

    I heard the horses of the inhuman Britons coming in such a furious manner, that they seemed to tear up the earth, and the riders at the same time bellowing out the most horrid curses imaginable; oaths and imprecations which chilled my whole frame....I'd no time for thought – they were up to the house – entered with drawn swords and pistols in their hands; indeed, they rushed in, in the most furious manner, crying out, "Where're these women rebels?" (pretty language to ladies from the once famed Britons!)....The moment they espied us, off went our caps (I always heard say none but women pulled caps!) And for what, think you? why, only to get a paltry stone and wax pin, which kept [the caps] on our heads; at the same time uttering the most abusive language imaginable, and making as if they'd hew us to pieces with their swords. But it's not in my power to describe the scene: it was terrible to the last degree; and what augmented it, they had several armed negroes with them, who threatened and abused us greatly They then began to plunder the house of every thing they thought valuable or worth taking; our trunks were split to pieces, and each mean wretch crammed his bosom with the contents, which were our apparel. &c. &c. &c.
    I ventured to speak to the inhuman monster who had my clothes. I represented to him the times were such we could not replace what they'd taken from us, and begged him to spare me only a suit or two; but I got nothing but a hearty curse for my pains; nay, so far was his callous heart from relenting, that, casting his eyes towards my shoes, "I want them buckles," said he, and immediately knelt at my feet to take them out, which, while he was busy about, a brother villain, whose enormous mouth extended from ear to ear, bawled out "Shares there, I say; share." So they divided my buckles between them. The other wretches were employed in the same manner....They took care to tell us, when they were going away, that they had favored us a great deal – that we might thank our stars it was no worse.

The detail of the painting, above, by John Singleton Copley, does not directly illustrate Eliza's letter (rather it shows a scene from the 1781 Battle of Jersey between British and French forces) – but it does convey the terror that faced women and children caught in the path of 18th c warfare.

Above: Detail from The Death of Major Peirson, 6 January 1781 by John Singleton Copley, 1783, Tate Collection.
In accordance with some FTC rule or another (which probably doesn't apply to Loretta and me because we're writers, not reviewers, but better safe than sorry), I received a copy of In the Words of Women as a gift from the authors.

From the NHG Bookshelf: 'Hark! A Vagrant"

Susan reporting:

As you've probably gathered by now, Loretta and I are bona fide nerdy history girls, fortunate enough to be able to incorporate the swell history facts we discover in the fiction we write. I'd like to introduce you to another of our NHG sisterhood: cartoonist extraordinaire Kate Beaton.

If you've somehow managed to miss Kate's phenomenally popular on-line cartoon strip, Hark! A Vagrant, then this compilation, above left, by the same name of  is going to be a revelation. With a jittery line and an irreverent wit, Kate goes to the heart of history and literature (as well as the occasional foray into the popular-culture territory of Nancy Drew, Beyonce, and Wonder Woman) with hilarious results. If you still have room on your wish-list for Santa, then this book should be on it.

Kate's cartoons skewer not only big names like Napoleon and Shakespeare, but lesser-known historical folk like Maximilian I of Mexico and murderous grave-robbers Burke and Hare. Armed with a degree in history (she also studied anthropology, but as she herself notes, anthropology doesn't seem to turn up in her art), she gets the details right, and her cartoons are both funny and smart.

We're not alone in loving Kate Beaton, either. Hark! A Vagrant was recently named one of Time Magazine's top ten fiction books for 2011. When was the last time a cartoon book was honored like that?

The cartoons reproduced here are copyright Kate Beaton. No need for a FTC disclosure statement here; I'm such A Fan that I bought this book myself.

From the NHG Bookshelf: 'An Introduction to the Tokens of the Foundling Museum'

Susan reporting:

We've written before on the Foundling Hospital, London, a remarkable charitable institution founded in 1741for the "Education and Maintenance of Exposed and Deserted Young Children." The Hospital continued to do exactly that well into the 20th c., taking in and providing for unwanted children, and teaching them a trade to support themselves.

Desperate mothers in the 18th c. turned to the hospital as a last resort, the one sure way to offer their children a better life than they could provide. When the child was offered for admission, a small token was left as well to be used for future identification, the hope being that the mother's circumstances would improve so that she could return and reclaim her child. Alas, few did. Today the tokens are among the most moving pieces in the Hospital Museum's collections.

Last year, the exhibition Threads of Feeling highlighted the textile tokens - ribbons, sleeves, and snippets of cloth - taken from the foundlings' clothing. (Click here for a heartbreaking slideshow of this exhibition.) Now the Museum has published a new book, An Introduction to the Tokens at the Foundling Museum, above left, that features many of the other tokens as well as several of the textile ones. These include coins, paper hearts, baby-sized rings, gambling markers, thimbles, keys, even admission tickets to Vauxhall Gardens; several are shown here, and on the book's cover. It's a fascinating collection of what lower-class Londoners held dear in the 18th c, and what they believed would link them forever to the children they had to give up. There's also a brief history of how the tokens were used in the 18th c., and how they were rediscovered and exhibited in the late 19th c.

But the true heart of this small book are the stories behind the tokens. Some have happy endings, of foundlings restored to their mothers, or growing to independent, responsible adulthood. Others are simply heartbreaking, and hint at the desperation and poverty that too many London women faced each day.

Margaret Larney's story is told in a simple letter that served as a token. Margaret and her husband came from Dublin to London to improve their fortunes. But after a series of menial jobs, Margaret became involved with a group who shaved gold sovereigns. She was arrested and tried for "degrading the coin of the realm," a crime that was considered high treason and punishable by execution. Although Margaret protested her innocence, she was convicted. While she was in prison, her husband disappeared, and her older son was taken and admitted to the Foundling Hospital. Because Margaret was pregnant, her execution was postponed until she gave birth, and then that son, too, was sent to the Hospital. In the letter, lower right, (which she must have dictated) that accompanied the newborn, she begged that the two brothers would be permitted to know one another:

Dear Sir
I am the unfortunate Woman that lies under Sentence of Death at Newgatt. I had a Child put in here before when I was sent here his name is James Larney and this [second son] his name is John Larney and he was born the King's Coronation Day 1758. And Dear Sir I beg for the tender mercy of God to let them Know one and other for Dear Sir I hear that you are a very good gentleman and God's blessing and more be on you for ever

   Sir I am your humbel 
   Servant Margaret Larney

It's doubtful her final  wish was fulfilled. The baby born in Newgate Prison died soon after admission, and soon, too, after Margaret herself was executed at Tyburn by strangulation and burning. But the older boy - renamed George Millett - survived, and became a successful wigmaker in Shropshire: the kind of happy ending that the founders of the Hospital hoped for all their charges.

An Introduction to the Tokens at the Foundling Museum is available here through the Museum's shop in London. Our American readers can also order the book stateside through our friends at Burnley & Trowbridge here.

All images are from the book, and are used with permission of the Foundling Museum. In accordance with the FTC (a rule that probably doesn't apply to Loretta and me since we're writers, not reviewers, but never mind) I received this book as a gift from the Museum.

NHG Library: "FABULOUS! Ten Years of FIDM Museum Acquisitions"

Susan reporting:

E-books may be the unstoppable wave of the future, but for me there's still nothing like a great, big, heavy, luscious art book full of beautiful images beautifully printed, with thoughtful commentary to match. If the subject is historical dress and fashion, then I'm truly wallowing in visual heaven.

Fashion from the Kyoto Costume Institute, the Victoria & Albert's Fashion in Detail series, and last year's Fashioning Fashion from the Los Angeles County Museum of Art, all have perpetual front-of-the-shelf status in my library. Now I have a new favorite to add to the collection: the aptly named FABULOUS!, from the Fashion Institute of Design & Merchandising Museum in Los Angeles, CA.

As the subtitle says, the book catalogues the very best of the museum's acquisitions over the last ten years. Included are women's, men's, and children's clothing from 1800 to the present, from a diaphanous Regency gown to the amazing black lace dress by Alexander McQueen featured on the book's cover, below. The1880s reception gown, above left, shows not only an example of extravagantly bustled fashion, but also how clothes can become almost sculptural in their beauty. The pieces are photographed to display their style and craftsmanship, with many full-page close-ups for details of embroidery, lace, and fabrics. One of my favorite dresses is a gorgeously elaborate court gown and train from 1907, worn to an Edwardian royal reception at Buckingham Palace. Pages fold out of the book to be able to display the spreading train to full advantage, and best of all is a vintage photograph of the dress being worn by the original owner.

There's also a tasty selection of accessories, including hats, gloves, corsets, and shoes. Oh, the shoes! Surely this pair, right, must have been worn to only the most exclusive of jet-set parties. Created by Roger Vivier for Christian Dior in 1959, they're leather, covered heel to toe in kingfisher feathers.

This is, in short, a wonderful book to explore and to treasure, with over 350 pages and 292 photographs and illustrations as well as fascinating commentary - a definite keeper for any true Nerdy History Girl. Even if you don't buy the book, check out the Museum's blog. It's one of the best historic fashion blogs on the internet.

FABULOUS! Ten Years of FIDM Museum Acquisitions, 200-2010, by Kevin L. Jones, Christina M. Johnson, and Brian E. Sanderson, FIDM Museum Press, 2011.

Top left: Reception Gown, Europe or United States, c. 1886-1887
Right: Evening Shoes, by Roger Vivier for Christian Dior, Paris, France, 1959
In accordance with some FTC rule or another (which probably doesn't apply to us since we're writers, not reviewers, but never mind), Loretta and I received copies of this book as a gift from the museum.

NHG Library: Needlemaking

Loretta reports:

Today I had to hem a pair of pants.  The process involves a measuring tape, pins, swearing, iron and ironing board, needle and thread.

Such an ordinary thing, a needle.  I ply the same sort of needle my grandmother used, and her grandmother.  And that’s what got me to peruse my shelves for a little volume Shire Books sent me a while ago, titled, aptly enough, Needlemaking.

It includes pictures of bone needles that look pretty much the same, albeit a bit rougher, than what I use.  The needle is one of those very simple, brilliant inventions that don’t need to change—and needles haven’t, except in what they’re made of:  over time that changed from thorn to wood to bone to metal.

Needles have to be made from a material that’s pliable to work with, but the finished product has to be hard as well as flexible.  Because steel was considered too hard to work, the metal of choice until the 1500s was iron—certain types of iron, preferably from hematite.  As the illustration, with its numerous steps and tools, indicates, making needles was hard, exacting work.  Yet women engaged in the trade as well as men.

In the Tudor period, Spanish needlemakers who’d fled religious persecution brought to England the Arabs' secret method for making steel needles.  Called Sprior needles, they were highly prized.

English literature students may be familiar with a play titled “Gammer Gurton’s Needle," about a village hunt for a missing needle.  (Think Marx Brothers go Tudor.) I remembered reading it, but not much about its significance, so I was charmed to learn that it was “the first comedy ever to be written in England”—and it was about a missing “goodly Sprior needle.”

This is just a sample of the fine Nerdy History Girl fare this book offers:  fascinating historical tidbits as well as detailed information about needlemaking throughout British history, lots of illustrations (b&w), a glossary, and the usual suggestions for further reading and places to visit—all the good stuff one expects from the Shire Library.

John G. Rollins (pictured on cover of book), Needlemaking, Shire Library

Illustrations:
The Needlemaker by Jost Amman (1568), courtesy Wikimedia Commons
Scan of page from Needlemaking, courtesy me.

In accord with some FTC rule or other (which probably doesn’t apply to us, since we're not reviewers, but never mind),  you need to know that, unlike the majority of books referred to in this blog, which Susan and I buy with our own hard-earned cash, this little gem came gratis. 

"Accessories: Head to Toe": Books & Links

Susan reporting:

Several blog readers have asked if there will be a book or catalogue published in connection with the Accessories: Head to Toe symposium and exhibition sponsored by Colonial Williamsburg and featured here last week.  Sadly, there aren't any publishing plans at this time.

There are, however, two books that feature many of the pieces currently on display. Written by Linda Baumgarten, curator, textiles & costume, Colonial Willamsburg, both books are available in paperback, and include plenty of photographs. Eighteenth Century Clothing at Williamsburg is exactly that: an introduction to the clothing worn by men, women, and children in colonial Virginia. Costume Close-Up: Clothing Construction and Pattern, 1750-1790, goes into more detail, with photographs of fastenings, linings, and embroidery plus line drawings of patterns and construction techniques. These aren't new books, and they do both have b&w photos as well as color, but they're interesting and informative, and as costume books go, they're quite reasonably priced.

Colonial Williamsburg also sponsored a second symposium last week, A Reconstructed Visitable Past. While I was only able to attend a couple of these sessions, I did learn of upcoming books by two of the speakers sure to make the hearts of you hard-core costume/historic dress folks (you know who you are!) beat faster.

Jenny Tiramani, costume & set designer and dress historian, has designed impeccably accurate costumes for Shakespeare's Globe Theatre in London and the Metropolitan Opera in New York. She was also the last student of the late, legendary costume historian Janet Arnold, and helped complete Janet's last book, Patterns of Fashion 4. In Williamsburg, Ms. Tiramani had a press-proof of her new book (set for publication on 4/1/11), Seventeenth-Century Women's Dress Patterns, which is very much in the same style as the Janet Arnold books with even more pictures and photographs. Instantly on my shopping list as a must-buy.

Another speaker with an intriguing new book is Dr. Lynn Sorge-English, Department of Theatre, Costume Studies, Dalhousie University, Halifax, Nova Scotia. Corsets and stays are an unending source of interest to those of us fascinated by historic dress, and one of Dr. Sorge-English's achievements was to research and create the master patterns for all the 18th c. replica stays worn by Colonial Williamsburg's female interpreters and employees. After hearing her speak, I can't wait to read her new book, Stays and Body Image in London: The Staymaking Trade, 1680-1810, set for publication this June.

Colonial Williamsburg is also increasing its on-line costume resources. Check out their new Historic Threads page, and if you're looking for something specific or just want to browse, the e-museum has much to offer, too – not only in historic costume, but also furniture, metal work, folk art, painting, prints, and many other 18th c. American and English decorative arts. Several of CW's historic trades also now have their own Facebook pages, filled with information and photographs of current projects. Among them are the Margaret Hunter Shop (milliners & mantua-makers); the Wigmaker & Barber Shop; the Anderson Blacksmith Shop; the James Craig Silversmith Shop; the Shoemakers' Shop; and the Deane Shop (wheelwrights). Admit it: haven't you always wanted to "friend" an 18th c. mantua-maker or blacksmith?


Above: The mantua-makers at work in the Margaret Hunter Shop, Colonial Williamsburg

Laundry never ends...continued

Loretta reports:

A reader asked about bleaching yards in urban areas.  Not a good idea.  Beau Brummell used to send his laundry out to the country (bear in mind that "country" could mean Kensington in his day).  I did find another approach, although I'm still puzzled about where, exactly, the linens were hung to dry.
~~~
TO MAKE TOWN-WASHED LINEN WHITE,
In large towns, where linen cannot be exposed to the air and sun upon the grass, let it be steeped, for some time before it is washed, in a solution of oxymuriate of lime Let it then be boiled in an alkaline ley.* Linen or cotton thus treated will not become yellow by age.
--From The complete servant, by Samuel and Sarah Adams, 1825

As to the fine fabrics another reader asked about. . .
~~~
Velvets.
When the pile of velvet requires to be raised, it is only necessary to warm a smoothing iron, cover it with a wet cloth, and hold it under the velvet; the vapour arising from the wet cloth will raise the pile of the velvet, with the assistance of a whisk gently passed over it.  For spots and stains in velvet, bruise some of the plant called soap-wort, strain out the juice, and add to it a small quantity of black soap.  Wash the stain with this liquor, and repeat it several times after it has been allowed to dry.  To take wax out of velvet, rub it frequently with hot toasted bread.
--from The New Female Instructor
You 'll find a whole chapter on “The Art of Laundering and Scouring” in Frances Grimble's The Lady’s Stratagem: A Repository of 1820s Directions for the Toilet, Mantua-Making, Stay-Making, Millinery, & Etiquette. It covers every kind of material and specific solutions for cleaning various colors and “reviving” colors.

For more, check out Susan’s blog about an old-time dry cleaning method.

*Ley could mean lye or it could be used more generally to refer to a cleansing agent.  I saw some examples of ash-ley in receipts for cleaning.

Illustration: Mulberry velvet Evening Dress & Plaid Swiss Gingham morning dress from The Court magazine & monthly critic and lady's magazine, Volume 8, 1836 (fashions for January).

Etiquette in the world of Downton Abbey

Loretta reports:

As may be obvious by now, Downton Abbey has sent this NHG peering into the corners of the Edwardian era.  They sure had some complicated etiquette; the Regency era is positively freewheeling by comparison.

If you don’t believe me, take a look at Manners and Rules of Good Society.  If you want to make your head spin, turn to Chapter III, Leaving Cards.

“THE etiquette of card-leaving is a privilege which society places in the hands of ladies to govern and determine their acquaintanceships and intimacies, to regulate and decide whom they will, and whom they will not visit, whom they will admit into their friendship, and whom they will keep on the most distant footing, whose acquaintance they wish further to cultivate and whose to discontinue.”

If you want to time travel, this chapter is a wonderful door to the past.  On our early 21st century side of the door is Facebook and Twitter and texting.  On the early 20th century side are little pieces of cardboard printed in copperplate script.

Or try Chapter XLIII, Engaged.
~~~
It greatly depends upon the views held by parents as to the freedom of action accorded to a daughter during her engagement. Some entertain the strictest ideas on this head, and strenuously put them in force.

By ‘strict ideas’ is meant that an engaged couple, except in the presence of a chaperon, are never, under any circumstances, permitted to enjoy a tête-à-tête sit together, walk together, ride together, or meet during any part of the day.

Wisdom and common-sense dictate a middle course of action for the consideration of parents, neither granting too much nor withholding too much.
. . .
To dance with each other at a ball, or dance more than three or four times in succession, and when not dancing to sit out in tea-rooms and conservatories, renders an engaged couple conspicuous, and this is precisely what many mothers are most anxious that their daughters should avoid being, and would rather that they were overprudent than that they should run the gauntlet of general criticism.
~~~
I leave you to speculate why, exactly, a daughter’s being conspicuous was so abhorrent to a mother 100 years ago, and what form the general criticism would take. 

Manners and Rules of Good Society, or Solecisms to be Avoided, by A Member of the Aristocracy (1911 ed.)

NHG Library: Costume in Detail 1730-1930

Loretta reports:

As my numerous posts from fashion magazines attest, I spend a lot of time these days studying and thinking about historic dress.  Thanks to NHG Susan’s many enticing suggestions, my collection of costume books has become what some might call excessive.  Today the spotlight is one of my most-frequently-consulted.

When I’m working on a scene where the characters’ clothes are very important for one reason or another, the book I’m most likely to open first is Nancy Bradfield’s Costume in Detail 1730-1930.

It isn’t a gorgeous book, like the coffee-table size V&A or university press publications.  Its pages contain not a smidgen of color.  It’s all text and drawings, fanatically detailed drawings in which every seam has been measured and noted, every button or hook accounted for…  In short, when Ms. Bradfield says "in detail," she means in detail.

According to her introduction, her “studies…are entirely from private collections; only a mere handful have ever been exhibited or seen by the general public.  Several are too frail or too soiled ever to be put on view.”  However, it’s easy enough to apply information from her book to the beautiful color photographs in other books, like Jane Ashelford’s The Art of Dress , or Lucy Johnston’s Nineteenth Century Fashion in Detail.  Now and again, I’ll find in these books one of the dresses she’s drawn.  She also might include on a page a little hand-drawn copy of a famous painting or fashion illustration that corresponds to the item she’s anatomized.  A page featuring shawls, for instance, includes her sketch of Ingres’ famous painting of Madame Rivière (below right).

The Appendix includes some extremely beautiful drawings of items from Ms. Bradfield’s own collection—three from the Regency and one from 1913.

If you’ve ever wondered exactly how a Regency era spencer was constructed, how long a dress opening was below the waistline (Would one step out of it or pull it over one’s head?), how and where a dress fastened, how a lady’s parasol worked, or the size of various ladies’ feet, this is the book for you.


(In accord with some FTC rule or other—which probably doesn’t apply to us, since we're not reviewers, but never mind—readers are hereby informed that I bought this book with my own hard-earned cash.)

Romantic jewelry

Loretta reports:

The recent engagement of Prince William & Kate Middleton brings up the always fascinating subject of jewelry, a subject dear to the Nerdy History Girl's heart.  Whenever one of my heroines becomes engaged, I pore through my jewelry books, looking for inspiration. Sometimes I'll give her a colored stone with diamonds, like Kate's.  Other times I'll look for the biggest, gaudiest diamond ring I can find.  But other kinds of jewelry were exchanged as love tokens.  One of my favorites, because it's multicolored, is jewelry used to convey a message.

One way to do this was to use the first letter of each stone to spell out a word.


D iamond
E merald
A methyst
R uby
E merald
S apphire
T opaz

According to Jewellery The International Era 1789-1910, Vol I 1789-1861 by Shirley Bury,   "The language of stones...was reported 'in high favour' by the Belle assemblée in 1817 (alas, that edition is not on Google Books yet), which explained only that the initials of the stones 'form devices or sentimental words.'"

Below right is a scan from the Bury book.  See if you can  read the message on these pendants from the Victoria and Albert Museum.

Sometimes the jewelery spelled the beloved's name.  This, as you could imagine, could present tricky problems for the jeweler, depending on the name.

For a visual feast of beautiful Georgian Jewelry, I suggest Ginny Redington's Georgian Jewellery 1714-1830.  It's not very nerdy, being a bit thin in the scholarship department, but it makes up for this with gorgeous color photographs—and a less breathtaking price than the out-of-print Bury tome.

More Jane Austen: The Price of Drab Boards, Wedgewood, & Posthumous Fame

"A large income is the best recipe for happiness I ever heard of."
        – Mansfield Park
          Jane Austen, 1814

Recently we posted about an important auction of first editions by Jane Austen, all the more remarkable (and apparently collectible) for being still fresh from the bookseller, with pages uncut and in drab boards. That sale took place at Sotheby's last Friday, and thanks to reader Michael Robinson, we can now report that the three humble volumes sold for 139,250 GBP (that's $221,380): surely an excellent "recipe for happiness" for the seller.

If you were so unfortunate as to have missed this auction, take heart: there's another coming up, again at Sotheby's, and on the anniversary of Jane Austen's birth (16 December). Included in the sale will be not only a copy of Emma that was originally presented to Maria Edgeworth, but also the set of Wedgewood china, right, purchased by Jane's brother Edward Knight and his daughter Fanny.

Jane herself was along for this shopping junket, and described the new china in a letter to Cassandra Austen, dated 16 September 1813: "We then went to Wedgewoods where my brother and Fanny chose a Dinner Set; I believe the pattern is a small Lozenge in purple, between Lines of narrow Gold; - and it is to have the Crest." (For more about Jane and Wedgewood, see this excellent post by Julie Wakefield on one of our favorite Jane Austen blogs, austenonly.) Perhaps Santa might bid for you?

Of course as grand as such sales may be, they pale in comparison to all the movies, spin-off books, action figures, and who-knows-what-else that has helped make Jane Austen into one of the biggest marketing "brands" in the world today, generating millions of dollars in income for lots of people who are not named Austen. To the country spinster whose entire writing income during her short life is generally estimated to have been around £700, this would likely have been incomprehensible – and more than a little unfair.

But a recent book does quite a good job in explaining the phenomenon. Jane's Fame: How Jane Austen Conquered the World by Claire Harman is a fascinating and readable exploration of Jane-mania, in all its curious
manifestations, and a study of why her books continue to hold such favor with readers. But Ms. Harman also examines the "dark side" of such fame: how Austen's name now bears "such a weight of signification as to mean almost nothing at all....To many people, Pride and Prejudice, and even 'Jane Austen', simply evoke the actor Colin Firth in a wet shirt."

Well, not to us, and probably not to you reading this blog, either. But Jane's Fame is well worth a glance or two, if only to make you think again about why you love the originals.

(I obtained and read this book the old-fashioned way - from a bookstore - so no disclaimers are necessary.)

A walking dress for October 1817

Loretta reports:

I think the blue satin spencer must have been quite beautiful in person, and I would love to see that embroidered hem up close—but what struck me about this ensemble was the bonnet with its "very large" front.  It seemed unusually tall and towering for this era, and reminded me of the extraordinary hat on the cover of Behind Closed Doors, a NHG Library selection I blogged about a while back.
 ~~~
PLATE 22.— PROMENADE DRESS. A high dress of jaconot muslin, richly embroidered round the bottom of the skirt. The body is composed entirely of work. Long sleeve, finished down the arm in front by bouillons of lace. With this dress is worn the Charlotte spencer, composed of cerulean blue satin; it is tight to the shape, the back a moderate breadth, and the waist short. The sleeve is rather wide. The trimming is extremely elegant, and it is disposed in so tasteful a manner, as to give an appearance of perfect novelty to the spencer. We are not allowed to name the materials of which it is composed. The sleeve is ornamented at the wrist, and on the shoulder to correspond. Bonnet, à la Ninon, composed of French willow. The crown is fancifully ornamented with the same material, cut in small squares, edged with white satin, and turned a little over at the ends. The front is very large; it displays the front hair, which is simply braided across the forehead: it is edged with puffed gauze, disposed in points, and confined by a narrow fold of white satin. A sprig of acacia ornaments it on the left side, and it is finished by white satin strings. French ruff and ruffles of rich lace. Blue or white kid shoes and gloves.


~~~
 Excerpted from Rudolph Ackermann's Repository of arts, literature, fashions &c, 1817.

NHG Library: Brand new annotated edition of Pride & Prejudice

Loretta reports:

My interest in English history developed when I discovered the joys of 19th century English novelists like Jane Austen and Charles Dickens.  One can enjoy the books without understanding every single word or reference, but I guess I was born nerdy, because even in high school, it wasn't enough to read the story.  I wanted to know what unfamiliar words meant.  In Pride & Prejudice, for instance, when Sir William Lucas asked Mr. Darcy whether he often dances "at St. James's," I wanted to know what and where St. James's was.

Imagine my excitement in discovering annotated editions, which not only defined the puzzling words (I did not have my OED then) but enlightened me about historical context and explained subtleties I would otherwise completely miss.

So, naturally, I did a mental swoon when I spotted, at the recent New England Independent Booksellers Conference, a brand new annotated edition of Pride & Prejudice (edited by Patricia Meyer Spacks) from Harvard University Press.  Never mind that I already have three editions of P&P on my shelves. One can never have enough.  And this one's a beauty.

One of the tiresome aspects of most editions with notes is having to turn to the back of the book to get the information.  This large, hardcover volume easily fits full size text on either side of the spine, with the notes in wide right and left hand columns.

Here's a sampling of what I learned on one page in Vol II, Chapter 5:

When Mr. Collins "punctually repeated all his wife's offers of refreshment," punctually in this case meant "In a manner attentive to details; scrupulously; punctiliously."

Aspect meant exposure, and

"Paradoxically, unseldom frequently meant seldom."

But the book offers more than a dictionary of Jane Austen's language (though the importance of language and characters' linguistic choices is beautifully explored).  We find as well  information about Austen's possible sources and inspirations—e.g., for the style of Darcy's proposal.

Merely skimming led to some eye openers.  I knew, for instance, that Miss Darcy's fortune of £30,000 was enormous.  But somehow I'd failed to catch on that "An elopement, which would mean  marriage without the legal settlements that would protect a woman's money, would give Wickham complete possession of his bride's fortune and leave her penniless and completely dependent on him."  There's more in this line, about money and what various possessions and lifestyles tell us about income levels.

There's a great deal more, in fact, than I can possibly convey in a blog.  But you'll find a good  summary as well as real reviews at the Harvard University Press site.

Since this book is one of the Independent Booksellers Holiday Catalog titles, you'll have no trouble finding it at your local bookseller.

And here, in accord with some FTC rule or other (which probably doesn’t apply to us, since we're not reviewers, but never mind), I need to tell you that, unlike the majority of books referred to in this blog, which Susan and I buy with our own hard-earned cash, this fabulous tome came gratis.

NHG Library: Dolls' Houses

Loretta reports:

Among the fascinating little books I’ve received from Shire Library, one of my current favorites is Dolls’ Houses by Halina Pasierbska.

Don’t know about you, but I love doll houses, and finding one in a museum or historic house is a special delight.  One that hasn’t been refurnished over the years offers a peep into the past.  It's not just one room in a painting or drawing, but a cross section of an entire house, complete with furniture arrangements that suggest how the space might actually have been used.  Since historically accurate illustrations of household interiors are not as abundant as exteriors, a doll house can be a helpful research tool.

And even if they’ve nothing to do with my chosen historical period, they’re just fascinating to study.  The Shire book shows us doll houses from the 17th to 20th century, some of which are in private collections.

Among many other things, I learned that the terms “Baby House” and “Doll House” referred to size, not purpose.  I was less surprised to learn that they were not regarded simply as toys.  “It would seem,” writes Ms. Pasierbska, “that the houses…served a serious instructional purpose as well as being objects which reflected the wealth of their owners.  They were excellent visual aids which helped young girls of the privileged classes to learn, through play, how to become good household managers.”

It’s a lovely little book, packing a lot of info into a small package and providing, as Shire books generally do, not only a list of further reading, but of places to visit.

Want more doll houses?  Click on the links to take a tour of The Doll's House of Petronella Oortman (late 17th C), Queen Mary’s Doll House, or Colleen Moore’s Fairy Castle.

Illustration is from the book:  Bedroom on the first floor of the Stromer House, 1639.

And here, in accord with some FTC rule or other (which probably doesn’t apply to us, since we're not reviewers, but never mind), I need to tell you that, unlike the majority of books referred to in this blog, which Susan and I buy with our own hard-earned cash, this one came gratis.

From the NHG Library: How to curtsey

Loretta reports:

My latest favorite research book is The Lady's Stratagem: A Repository of 1820s Directions for the Toilet, Mantua-Making, Stay-Making, Millinery, & Etiquette. Yes, it sounds like a tall order, but the book comes through, all 755 pages of it. Herein you will learn how ladies dyed their grey hair, what they used to clean their teeth, and what cosmetics were available. You will find instructions for making several different  kinds of stays as well as how to unlace them.  Want to know how to make a hat?  Puzzled about the rules for mourning?  Wondering how a widow ought to behave?  Curious about etiquette at a dinner party?  It's all here, and more, much more.  The table of contents is 36 pages long.

Needless to say, I'm in love with this book.  I'm not the only one.  Over at the History Hoydens, Kalen Hughes provides a fine overview of the book as well as a look at the Controversy about Hair Washing.

My focus today is curtseys, which have played important roles in more than one of my books.  To my delight, the book offered illustrations as well as instructions:

"The Courtesy.  The following is the usual mode of performing the courtesy.  First bring your front foot into the second position. (In Fig. 1, B, C, D, E, and F respectively denote the first, second, third, fourth, and fifth positions of the feet.)  Then draw the other into the third behind, and pass it immediately into the fourth behind; the whole weight of your body being thrown on the front foot.  Then bend your front knee, your body gently sinks, transfer your whole weight to the foot behind while rising, and gradually bring your front foot into the fourth position.  Your arms should be gracefully bent, and your hands occupied in lightly holding out your gown.  Your first step in walking, after the courtesy, is made with the foot which happens to be fowards at its completion.  The perfect courtesy is rarely performed in society, as the general salutation is between a courtesy and a bow (see Fig. 1 G). —The Young Lady's Book."

Men Behaving Badly: Life in London

Loretta reports:

One of my prize possessions is a falling-to-pieces copy of Pierce Egan’s Life in London: or, The day and night scenes of Jerry Hawthorn, esq., and his elegant friend Corinthian Tom, accompanied by Bob Logic, the Oxonian, in their rambles and sprees through the metropolis.  It’s beautifully illustrated by George &Robert Cruikshank.  Issued in shilling numbers starting in July 1821, it was hugely popular and remained so into the 20th century.

Basically, it’s a book about Men Behaving Badly.

One of the more famous of its illustrations is TOM GETTING THE BEST OF A CHARLEY.  Yes, this was a Regency “gentleman’s” idea of fun:

Tom had the CHARLEY in his box down in an instant.  HAWTHORNE laughed immoderately at the dexterity of TOM…Indeed it is totally impossible under such circumstances, for a Charley to extricate himself, without the assistance of some of his brother “guardians of the night.”  The noise made by the watchman to get out of his box broke in upon the ears of another old scout, across the road, who, half asleep and without knowing what was the matter, sprang his rattle for assistance.  “Let us be off,” said TOM; “it won’t do to remain her any longer.”  The two Cyprians,* in the most tender and persuasive manner, now endeavoured to gammon JERRY and the CORINTHIAN up Shire Lane to a place of safety, as they termed it.  “No,” replied TOM, “I rather think not!  Your house, I am afraid, is not insured; but, I must admit, your policy is not a bad one neither!”

As the excerpt demonstrates, it’s written in the arch style favored at the time, it’s loaded with incomprehensible slang and obscure puns, and there’s no obvious rhyme or reason to the italics.

Yet the picture it offers of men of the era helps us understand why Conan Doyle, in Rodney Stone, described a character thusly: “He was a type and leader of a strange breed of men which has vanished away from England--the full-blooded, virile buck, exquisite in his dress, narrow in his thoughts, coarse in his amusements, and eccentric in his habits.”  This isn’t Mr. Darcy by a long shot, and while I don’t doubt that Jane Austen’s hero had his counterparts, I suspect the Corinthian Tom type was easier to find in real life.  Certainly the strong Victorian reaction against the type tells us that such men were far from rare.

Here's an early 20th C assessment of the book.  And here's a 1904 edition at Google Books.

*prostitutes

NHG Library: Blue and white pottery

Loretta reports:

Though I’ve never collected it, I’ve always liked blue and white pottery, and will gaze in delight at specimens in the display cases of museums—even though, as is often the case with objects in museums, I don’t know much about it.

One thing I didn’t know was that Lord Byron inspired a china pattern.  It’s called Byron Views, and was made by Copeland & Garrett about 1834.  “The views are adapted from Finden’s ‘Landscapes and Portrait Illustrations to the Life and Works of Lord Byron’, published by John Murray in 1832 and after in three volumes.”  Turns out there was also a series based on William Coombs’s “Three Tours of Doctor Syntax,” with illustrations by Rowlandson.

I discovered these and other interesting matters in a Shire book, Blue and White Transfer-Printed Pottery by Robert Copeland. 

Like other Shire books in my collection, this is a wonderful little volume packed with a great many pictures and tons of information.  I’ve used these books time and again in my research—sometimes for facts, sometimes for inspiration.  This one offers plenty of both, starting with a Glossary and History and going on to detailed photos of the manufacturing process, and proceeding to discussions of the patterns and colors (including a chart of the tones of blue).  IOW, perfect for Nerdy History Girls and Boys.  Like other Shire books, it offers an extensive bibliography and suggests places to visit.

What I especially liked about this volume was all the surprises it held. Along with the Byron and Doctor Syntax series, I discovered a Regency-era vegetable dish in a Spode pattern called Sunflower and Convolvulus—which I could have sworn was modern.

The Blue and White Museum has some examples of the Byron Views pattern (on the Museum page, type “Byron Views” in the Pattern Name section). Here’s one.  Other examples of the pattern, but in green, are here.

The illustration at right, which was used on one of the plates shown in the book, is Rowlandson’s "Doctor Syntax and the Bees," from The Tour of Doctor Syntax Vol 2, available online at the Internet Archive.