For the most part, Great Britain is a soggy place. Surrounded by water, rain is almost a way of life there. But what about snow; now that is an entirely different matter! Snow is much more unlikely even though many of my favorite Regencies are set in a country house at Christmas smothered in snow, giving the hero and heroine plenty of time to flirt, argue, ignore and fall in love with each other.
I am hoping that one of my next stories might be a Christmas Regency, so I decided to research winter apparel. I specifically remember that in these lovely stories, when they ventured out in the snow to get the Yule log, invariably we are told that the ladies rushed to get their pattens. I never really thought much about pattens, assuming it was a sort of a rubber overshoe that would fit over a sturdy walking boot to protect it from ruination, much like our mothers used to wear. Wow, was I wrong!
These my friends are pattens; and they weren’t for snow at all!
This pair is made of flat metal rings which made contact with the ground and the ring was attached to a metal plate nailed into the wooden sole. Can you imagine trying to keep your balance while wearing such things?
And when worn on stone floors they made such loud clatter that churches made ladies remove them when they entered. Many churches banned them altogether!
Jane Austen herself wrote of the “ceaseless clink of pattens” when referring to life in Bath; as we know being a perpetually rainy and damp part of England.
They were clumsy platforms that raised the shoe a few inches from the ground to protect the hem of a gown and they were used by men as well as women, in the country on muddy, rutted lanes and in London when walking on horse infested pavement.
Pattens date back to the 14th century. Only the rich would have been able to afford these porcelain china pattens worn to protect their long and ornate robes.
These are huge pattens worn by Turkish women in 1738.
In the 17th century when ladies shoes were commonly made with an upper of figured silk or brocade that almost any venture out necessitated the use of this patten to protect the shoe as well as the hem of the gown. This is how the shoes fit into them and the metal ring would have been attached to the wooden platform under the shoe.
By the 18th and 19th centuries, men’s shoes had thicker soles, hemlines rose, and as roadways and transportation improved pattens were abandoned by the ladies as well and were worn only by the working class men and women as they went about their duties.
In “A Memoir of Jane Austen,” James Edward Austen Leigh wrote about his aunts Cassandra and Jane:
The other peculiarity was that when the roads were dirty the sisters took long walks in pattens. This defense against wet and dirt is now seldom seen. The few that remain are banished from good society and employed only in menial work…
So, the next time you read about the ladies donning their pattens to venture out of doors, I dare you not to smile as you picture it!
The Woodlanders
Arrived at the entrance to a long flat lane, which had taken the spirit out of many a pedestrian in times when, with the majority, to travel meant to walk, he saw before him the trim figure of a young woman in pattens, journeying with that steadfast concentration which means purpose and not pleasure. He was soon near enough to see that she was Marty South. Click, click, click went the pattens; and she did not turn her head.
She had, however, become aware before this that the driver of the approaching gig was Giles. She had shrunk from being overtaken by him thus; but as it was inevitable, she had braced herself up for his inspection by closing her lips so as to make her mouth quite unemotional, and by throwing an additional firmness into her tread.
“Why do you wear pattens, Marty? The turnpike is clean enough, although the lanes are muddy.”
“They save my boots.”
“But twelve miles in pattens–’twill twist your feet off. Come, get up and ride with me.”
She hesitated, removed her pattens, knocked the gravel out of them against the wheel, and mounted in front of the nodding specimen apple-tree….
Thomas Hardy
She lost her pattens in the muck
& Roger in his mind
Considered her misfortune luck
To show her he was kind
He over hitops fetched it out
& cleaned it for her foot…
From the Middle Period Poems of John Clare (1820s)
My first Regency was Charity Girl by Georgette Heyer and got me interested in the Regency time period. The book that really hooked me on the Regency romance, however, was Georgina by Clare Darcy.
Georgina has all the wonderful elements of a romance that absolutely delight me—delight me to the point that I think I have followed a little in her footsteps in my own romances—books that is, not life—a heroine being courted by just the right sort of gentleman when her heart demands she go after the exactly wrong gentleman. Ah, be still my beating heart for Shannon, a disreputable landowner with mystery and rumors swirling around him. Though I knew I would regret doing so in the morning, I stayed up late to finish this story and was delighted and saddened at the end—delighted with the outcome and saddened that the book was over.
Over the next several years, I read every Clare Darcy book I could find. These were what we now call traditional Regencies. Traditional Regencies are those in the true spirit of Georgette Heyer—comedies of manners with no sensuality other than a few subtle comments and maybe a kiss or two, no foul language, and generally appropriate for young women all the way up to old ladies.
All of Ms. Darcy’s books were named for the heroine, except for one named for two females, one I just learned of today, as I did some research on this post. They ranged from countryside frolics, to country house romps, to balls and adventures. The heroines usually had minds of their own without being anachronistic or too much alike, as far as I remember, and the heroes varied in temperament and social position, though all were at least gentry class.
When I started looking at writing Regencies myself, I asked a few people about Ms. Darcy. Who, exactly, was she and why didn’t she gain more acclaim in the genre? I discovered that Ms. Darcy was highly respected amongst true Regency devotees, but her person was pretty much unknown. Some even hinted she might be a he.
According to Wikipedia now, ten years later, Ms. Darcy was an author from Ohio named Mary Deasy (1914-1978). Her papers are in the Boston University research library. This is the most information I’ve been able to find out about this author who, like Ms. Heyer, died before ever I read one of her books. Also like Ms. Heyer, Ms. Darcy was a powerful influence on me becoming a Regency writer.
If you haven’t yet picked up Georgina, Eugenia, Lydia, Cressida, Lady Pamela, or any of the other delightful books by Ms. Darcy, you are in for a treat when you do.
Mary Moore, Regency Reflections contributor and author of Beauty in Disguise is with us again today, and just like yesterday, she’s offering to give away two copies of her latest Regency novel to two lucky blog visitors. Be sure to leave a comment at the end of the post to be entered in the giveaway. The giveaway will end Wednesday, January 16, at midnight.
1. Hi Mary, and thanks for being with us two days in a row. Today I’d like to ask you a few questions about writing Regencies and making your stories stand out. With the Regency Era being such a relatively short time in number of years; is it hard to create new storylines and fresh ideas?
Normally, I would give you a pretty definitive no. There are a number of different voices and creative writers out there, who all have different perspectives and specific areas of interest on the period, and this results in some wonderful new stories every month. The growth in the research process and areas of expertise also adds a wonderful level of creativeness.
You will notice, however, that I started my answer with “normally!” After I signed the contract for Beauty in Disguise and scheduled it for release, my editor contacted my agent to tell us that there was another LIH already further along in the process with a similar premise to mine. As a relatively new author, I had no idea whether my editor would want to move back the date of release or ask me to propose a whole new story. But she thought the story would work out fine if I would just be willing to “tweak” it. I said yes, but little did I realize what “tweaking” it would mean!
2. How did they want you to change it, and how hard was that for you?
In our initial brainstorming session most of the changes seemed pretty much cosmetic. They really did like the premise and wanted to keep it if we could. So, we changed where the story was staged, the heroine’s dynamic with some of the other characters and some details about her past. But as I began the rewrite I realized that some of those changes affected the story much more than any of us anticipated.
3.Gulp. I was in a similar situation with a story once. I thought I was agreeing to some surface changes that got way deeper than I anticipated. Not fun! How did the changes for Beauty in Disguise differ from what you expected?
Originally, the build up to the “reveal” was pivotal to my story. But with some of the changes I made, my editor thought it watered down some of the conflict and, thereby, the impact too much. To increase that problem, they wanted the hero and heroine to meet earlier. So one by one, changes that started out as cosmetic ended up changing the storyline pretty drastically. There were quite a few more rewrites than my editor and I expected or wanted!
4. How do you think these changes have helped to make your book stronger?
I usually have an inspirational message (and the verses of Scripture that go with it) in my mind ahead of time, and I write the story around it. In the rewrites of Beauty in Disguise, I began to get frustrated because either the message wouldn’t fit with the changes or the changes wouldn’t go with the message. I finally got to the point where I just gave the story to God. I asked Him to make sure it was His message that went out there instead of mine. Duh, right? So, in the end, having the story revolve around what He wants to say made the book exactly what it is supposed to be.
The postscript to the story is that one day I was in a hospital waiting room and I pulled out my Kindle to kill the time. I pulled up the first Regency I came to and I knew, on that very first page, that it was the other story…the one that came out before mine and sent me on this writing journey. I wanted to find someone, anyone, to say, “This is it, this is it,” until I realized how crazy I would have sounded. It was by an author I “knew” pretty well online. She and I have had a good laugh over it and I pray that God will be able to use both our stories to His glory!
5. Well, I’m glad everything worked out well between you and the other author. Are you excited to finally see the release of Beauty in Disguise?
That would be a giant understatement! It was by far tougher to write than my first one was, but it has also been a little over a year since my first one came out. I was ready to be out among readers again, and now I can move on to my next project. I am very blessed!
Thanks, Naomi, for your time and the interview. I am so happy to be associated with this site and all of the work everyone does here to support and spread the news about inspirational Regencies.
Here’s a little more about Beauty in Disguise. If you want to enter our giveaway, leave a comment below, and be sure to visit yesterday’s blog post for another chance to win Beauty in Disguise.
Hidden in plain sight.
After her scandalous first Season, Lady Kathryn needs a new beginning. Concealing her stunning hair and sapphire eyes beneath a dowdy facade, she’s grateful to earn her keep as companion Kate Montgomery. Until she comes face-to-face with her past in Lord Dalton, the only man she has ever loved.
The debutante Dalton fell in love with years ago was beautiful beyond compare. The gentle, mysterious young woman he encounters at a country house has qualities he now values more highly—until he learns of her deception. Kate has broken his heart not once, but twice. Can faith help him see that love, like true beauty, always comes to light?
Hi Everyone! We’ve got a lovely surprise for you here on Regency Reflections this week, and it involves the latest book release from one of our very own bloggers! Mary Moore’s second novel released on January 1st, and is she ever excited to tell us more about both her book, Beauty in Disguise, and writing Regencies.
To commemorate the release of Beauty in Disguise, we’ll be interviewing Mary for two days in a row, and Mary has agreed to give away two copies of her book for each of those days. To enter the giveaway, simply leave a comment at the bottom of the page, and you’ll be notified of the winner on Wednesday, January 16.
So without further ado, here’s a little more about Mary:
I have been writing historical fiction for more than 15 years. After battling and beating breast cancer, I’ve become more excited about my writing. I want to incorporate some of my struggles throughout my books, and I am dedicated to encouraging others in the Lord and using my writing for God’s glory.
My debut novel, The Aristocrat’s Lady, won several acclaimed awards, including the 2011 Reviewers Choice Award by RT Magazine for Best Love Inspired Historical, and the 2011 Holt Medallion Award from Virginia Romance Writers for Best Book by a Virginia Author. I also received an Award of Merit for Best First Book and Best Long Inspirational by the VRW.
I am a native of the Washington, DC area, but my husband and I now live in the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains in southwestern Virginia. When not writing, I love to read, minister in my church, and spend time with my husband and black lab, Darcy.
1. What drew you to write during the Regency Time Period?
I read Pride and Prejudice for high school and loved it. But the real love affair began when I read Georgette Heyer. I devoured her books and was devastated when I found out she was not alive, and there were no more to come! Then I discovered that Zebra (I think it was Zebra) Publishing had a book club where you got four new Regencies every month…I signed up and was deliriously happy until it dwindled down to none.
2. Tell us what year your book is set in and why you chose that particular time.
It was about 1817. My hero, Lord Dalton, refers to his military background several times in the story. The war is over, but not so far over that it can’t be alluded to comfortably when needed in the story.
3. What’s your favorite, unique Regency aspect of the novel, something you wouldn’t be able to include in a novel set in another place or time?
There are two really. First, there is the fact that the Lady Kathryn is completely ruined because she was alone in a carriage overnight with a man, even though nothing physical happened. For a Christian writer who wanted her heroine’s reputation tarnished, it was easily accomplished in the Regency Era. Second, the only two occupations for a lady of quality down on her luck were a companion or governess. It fit well in the story to get her far out of Society and able to don her disguise.
4. What are the biggest challenges to writing in the Regency Period?
I think it is telling stories that give the seasoned Regency reader satisfaction while still being able to make it understandable to new Regency readers. I found myself reminding the reader why Lady Kathryn was ruined for new readers and probably overdid it for Regency aficionados. I want to grab everyone with a story and make them fall in love with the Regency period at the same time.
5. Who is your favorite Regency Author?
I guess I gave that away in the first question! Georgette Heyer is my all time favorite. She wrote such great stories with wonderful characters (I love her rakes!) all with wit and charm from the period that I have yet to find in another. And though her stories certainly are not faith-based, they satisfy the romantic in me while remaining squeaky clean. And it’s so silly; I thought I was the only one who knew about her! Imagine my surprise when I entered the writing world and discovered that she is loved by almost all Regency connoisseurs!
6. What is your favorite Regency food, aspect of dress, and/or expression?
Oh, I like the language of the period best. That is one of those trials we talked about above, throwing in a great expression like “ planted him a facer” or “ diamond of the first water” because it fits so beautifully in the story, but not wanting to water it down with an explanation in the next sentence. I think for the most part, if you can hook a reader with a great story, they will want to read more in that setting, and it doesn’t take long for them to catch on to the language. It’s one of the things that make a Regency so wonderful.
7. What is your favorite Regency setting; e.g., London, country house, small village?
I really prefer a country house probably because I love dialogue. Once you’ve given the basic background and backdrop, there is a little more opportunity for intimacy; I mean that in the way of one-on-one conversations, impromptu meetings, etc. But overall my favorite setting is a waltz, and really that can be done in London or the country.
8. What makes your hero and heroine uniquely Regency?
She is the daughter of a earl, and he is an earl, therefore there are only certain settings that are available to them. But even though I like the gentility and upper echelon the best, I like finding ways that they meet with or come into contact with the darker side of the time period as well. It was only glittering for the ‘upper ten thousand’ – it was not a good time in history for the lower classes.
*****
Thank you so much for that lovely interview, Mary. I couldn’t agree with you more about the Regency Era being very bright for the upper echelons of society and very dark for the other classes. That’s something I enjoy exploring in my own writing as well.
Mary will be with us again on Wednesday, but before we bid farewell, she wants to know what your favorite sub-genre of Regency is? Suspense? Romance? Anything involving rakes or vicars or both? Answer that question, and you’ll be entered in the chance to win one of two copies of Beauty in Disguise.
Sunny Hostin holding up a copy of Queen of Exiles!!!
This is so exciting. Queen of Exiles is a Sunny Lit Pick!!! On August 2nd, she introduced Queen of Exiles to The View.
Meet Queen Louise. This is a historical fiction about a true queen, Hayti’s 1st and only queen. It’s a sweep tale which will take you through the politics and intrigues of the Haitian Court to the twists and turns of Regency and Victorian England and France and Italy. Queen Louise was a brave woman who dared to be Black, royal, and happy.
The audiobook performed by Robin Miles won an Earphone Award from Audiofile Magazine. It’s an Editor’s Choice Selection for the Historical Novel Society.
Riley’s historical novel feels timely and relevant, commemorating a time when Black women were queens. – Jodi Picoult, #1 New York Times bestselling author
I started writing essays because my mind battled deep disappointment over the state of division in my country. My consciousness is bias, tragically etched with memories of when character mattered. Remember when we all wanted to be president? I remember holding civic medals I’d won in elementary and high school. I recall lifting people up on pedestals and telling younger versions of ourselves, “That’s who I want to be. That’s who I want to emulate when we grow up.”
Heroes of the Haitian War —Empress Marie Claire, Warrior Gran Toya – Art by Tonya Engle for William Morrow—Sister Mother Warrior
That sentiment is gone. People in power are deeply flawed, or their flaws are more obvious. And it’s not just politicians. We look at sports heroes and entertainers and see waves of brokenness—people performing for show, lacking integrity, and becoming poster children of bad behavior. That is why authenticity feels so refreshing, why it can grip the zeitgeist of a nation and have us talking about it, creating YouTube videos and Subtacks on the subject, even spinning reels and threads—finding more ways to tap into our fount of creativity.
We are hungry for authenticity, for authentic creation.
Now, I’m not advocating for perfection. Every writer knows the pitfalls of striving for perfection. We wrestle with word choice, sentence structure, even the order of ideas. We can edit something so many times that our original vision becomes unrecognizable. Yet, we push forward because the act of creating is essential. It’s the breath in an artist’s lungs.
Our better angels—our novels of truth, our canvases of color, our songs of freedom, our quilts of existence, our visuals of life—are needed more than ever. We are hungry for authenticity, for authentic creation.
Our appetites are satiated in low-calorie burns. Scrolling for kicks, laughs, angry takes, and escape is common. But social media, the hellscape that it is, can be a respite or a drug. And I must say, I am confused about the self-induced stupor of tearful videos of people who voted against their own interests, now seeking the world’s sympathy as they grapple with consequences—lost jobs, lost funding, lost farms, and lost hopes. It’s painful to watch. It’s also jarring to see them admit that this consequence is only a problem now because they suffer. I did a podcast about the loss of empathy. I just didn’t expect an equivalent rise in blindness to FAFO.
I wish harm on no one, but these folks are putting themselves and their business out there and wonder why they are being mocked. Empathy and sympathy need to be learned and earned before they can be demanded from others.
And yet, here we are—still divided, still finding out. We could sulk. We could laugh. We could cry. But I believe the better thing to do is to keep moving forward. That’s how we—the collective, those of like minds, and even new converts to humanity—win. Everyone, we can win. We will win.
There’s a scene I wrote in Sister Mother Warrior—the lead-up to the Battle of Vertières, the drive to push the French out which ended the Haitian Revolution, this is a snippet of the audio performed by Adjoa Andoh and Robin Miles:
Staking the flagpole in the ground, he (Jean-Jacques Dessalines) stopped and looked out at his army. “They divide, but we are consolidated, one family. And this gives us victory…”
Then he gave the signal and pointed us to the hills. “Onward! We will win!” The battle cry of Nosakhere, “Mì nan du déji! We will win!” was music to my ears. Women and men cried out in all the mother tongues of the people born here and those stolen from Africa.
“Yebedi kunim,” Twi.
“A yoo ṣẹgun,” Yoruba.
“Nou pral genyen,” Kreyòl.
“Nous gagnerons,” French.
“Mì nan du déji,” blessed Fon.”
I love that scene—people of all races and nationalities gathering to defeat their common oppressors. Unified they drove the French from Haiti. It took everyone. In America, it will take all of us to win.
The True Fight
We’re not fighting with weapons of war—guns and tanks. We are fighting for minds. The power to unlock thought and passion is creation. How we got here doesn’t matter. Whether orderly or chaotic, it’s not about the process—it’s about the product. What are you making with the time you were given?
The battles can be as small as saving your money by avoiding fast fashion and shopping your closet. Eating and talking about life around the kitchen table instead of eating out. Supporting your library by using it and checking out books by your favorite authors is an act of resistance.
For those who harness their creative genes, making something, delivering art is the ultimate act of resistance. Creating ignites the brain, releasing endorphins and unlocking resilience. Instead of dwelling on despair, we must tap into our inner artist, writer, and creator to make magic in the medium of our choosing. I want this period of time to be a rebirth or renaissance for folk arts, for kitchen experimentation, for the novels we will talk about for the next seventy years.
For every creator out there, I know it feels difficult to make art right now. It feels worse when you know you did your part to keep the world from being set on fire. I often think of my farming grandparents, who lived in the Jim Crow South, educated eight children, and bought over 400 acres of land with mere pennies. If they could plant so many seeds in the face of lynchings, why are we letting fear of people who whine at the first moment of heat or being stoned by pea soup cause us despair? No one should keep us from doing what we must. No one.
History proves that perseverance defies expectations:
· Gran Toya led troops in hand-to-hand combat in her 60s during the Haitian Revolution.
· Fauja Singh began running marathons at 89, setting records in his 100s.
· Ray Kroc turned McDonald’s into a global empire in his 50s.
· Diana Nyad swam from Cuba to Florida at 64 after multiple failed attempts.
· Faith Ringgold gained major recognition for her story quilts in her 50s.
· Cicely Tyson was told she wouldn’t make it because of her dark skin; she won a Tony at 88 and worked until her passing at 96.
· Morgan Freeman became a household name in Driving Miss Daisy at nearly 50.
· Samuel L. Jackson landed Pulp Fiction at 46 after years of struggling with his career. Our Uncle Sam is now one of the highest grossing actors in Hollywood.
And, of course, there are the writers I’ve spoken about:
· Toni Morrison published The Bluest Eye at 39 and won the Nobel Prize in Literature at 62.
· Octavia Butler faced rejection for years before breaking through in sci-fi in her 40s.
To every creator, hear my voice: Grab your paper, pens, keyboards, fruits, spices, fabrics, glues, paints, resins, threads—whatever you have—and birth a miracle. Create. Art is the first and last sign of resistance.
The work isn’t done. We resist by creating. My art—my words—exist to empower Black women, foster sisterhood, and restore the world to a place where we are our brothers’ and sisters’ keepers. The ancestors say we will win. I believe them, and I believe in us.
· Barracoon: The Story of the Last “Black Cargo“ by Zora Neale Hurston – A firsthand account of survival and resilience from one of the last known survivors of the transatlantic slave trade.
Show notes include a list of the books mentioned in this broadcast. This week, I’m highlighting The Book Worm Bookshop through Bookshop.org.
This is a public episode. If you’d like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit vanessariley.substack.com/subscribe
Kristi here, with an exciting look at the coming year.
As the weather blows cold and snow dumps over a lot of the United States, things are heating up at Regency Reflections. If you’re just now stumbling across our little corner of cyberspace, take a moment and bookmark us or subscribe via email because there are some amazing things planned for 2013.
New Years in Australia, via WikiCommons
In February we’ll be celebrating our first birthday and we have some serious fun in the works. As a blog for readers of inspirational Regencies, we wanted to give you something to, well, read. We’re also putting together a unique and eclectic give-a-way that you won’t want to miss.
More than half of our authors have book releases this year as well as many of our Regency writing friends of the blog. This year is going to provide a plethora of choices for the inspirational Regency reader. We’re especially excited for the debut releases of Vanessa and Sarah!
Other things to look forward to this year are a series of guest bloggers ready to share their experiences and knowledge, fun give-a-ways, and increased opportunities to interact with some of your favorite authors and other readers.
What are you looking forward to this year? What would you like to see more of on Regency Reflections?
It’s New Year’s Eve and it seems we’re all experiencing a bit of “Cinderella Syndrome”… We have up until midnight before 2012’s party comes to a close and a new fairy tale is ushered in.
It’s exciting, isn’t it? The slate is wiped clean and anything is possible in the new year! We’ve got a new chapter to write in our lives. We’ll have a new story to tell. And whether we’re singing, dancing or making merry on this happiest of holidays, the door to possibility is wide open with the simple tick of the clock!
So how will we spend those final moments of the year? Some of us may revel in the possibilities – What delights will the new year bring? (Eat, drink and be merry, maybe? Luke 12:19) Others might look back to days gone by – Shall we sing another chorus of Auld Lang Syne and think fondly on years past? (After all, there is a time for everything under heaven. Ecclesiastes 3:2-8)
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind ?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and old lang syne ?
We’ve probably all had an opportunity to sing it a time or two…
Maybe you’ve joined in with the enormous crowds that link arm in arm at New York’s Times Square and sway back and forth while the familiar notes play. Possibly you’ve watched as director Frank Capra’s iconic character George Bailey comes to truly appreciate the years he’s lived and joins in with the singing at the end of the wildly popular Christmas film, It’s a Wonderful Life (1946). Or as you circle around the fireplace with loved ones near, maybe you’ve hummed along with the notes to ring in January 1st. However it’s celebrated or sung, this song is ingrained in our American culture and in those English-speaking countries around the globe. Arguably, it is the song to define the transition from one year to the next, whether we joyfully welcome the new year or lament on days long past… It signifies the transition from the Christmas holiday season to the possibilities of the new year beyond.
Photo: Robertburns.org
Often referred to as “the World’s National Anthem” (because of the association with New Year’s celebrations the world over) and “the Song that Nobody Knows” (because the tune is recognized but the lyrics often forgotten), Auld Lang Syne was written by celebrated Scottish poet and lyricist Robert Burns in 1788. Conflicting accounts state that it was an original work penned by Burns, while others reference his compilation of James Watson’s formerly published ballad “Old Long Syne” (1711). Nevertheless, Burns’ version was included with other compiled and original works for a collection sent to the Scots Musical Museum publication with the following note:
“The following song, an old song, of the olden times, and which has never been in print, nor even in manuscript until I took it down from an old man.” (Lindsay, Maurice. “Auld Lang Syne”. The Burns Encyclopedia. 1959)
While the literal English translation for Burns’ Auld Lang Syne title is “old long since”, there are many interpretations that have made their way into popular culture: “long, long ago”, “days gone by”, and “old times” to name a few. I especially love the contemporary connection to the phrase “In days of auld lang syne”, which Scottish novelist Matthew Fitt used to liken his retelling of fairy tales to the familiar storybook beginning, “Once upon a time…” From Elvis Presley to Billy Joel, Rod Stewart to Prince and Miles Davis, modern-day celebrities have taken turns performing their renditions of the popular song as a part of accepted holiday revelry. Most recently, actress Lea Michele (of Glee fame) sang her own version of the song in the 2011 film New Year’s Eve. (It was not my favorite film by any stretch of the imagination, but Lea’s rendition of the much-loved song was fresh and electric!)
Photo: Wikimedia Commons
Whether we feel like Cinderella or not, it won’t be long before the clock on the wall clicks over to midnight and we’re all officially a part of 2013. As we all join in the celebration of a new year, I hope you’ll take a look at the lyrics and as the familiar tune begins to play, remember the magic in the words written so long ago. (You just might be the only person to get the words right if you’re caught singing in the Times Square crowd! <wink>) Like the Bible, which was written so long ago but has truth that still breathes life today, Burns’ version of Auld Lang Syne has managed to stand the test of time from the Regency Era to 2013.
We here at Regency Reflections hope that you not only have the memories of days gone by to keep you warm in the upcoming winter months, but we pray for God’s loving provision to bring you joy in the all the years ahead.
May you be richly blessed in the new year and beyond!
This excerpt is from Washington Irving, The Sketch Book, published in 1819. Washington Irving is famous for his tale “Legend of Sleepy Hollow” featuring Rip Van Winkle, and he spent some time in England beginning in 1815. You can see his musings on Christmas Eve in Friday’s Post.
When I awoke the next morning, it seemed as if all the events of the preceding evening had been a dream . While I lay musing on my pillow, I heard the sound of little feet pattering outside the door, and a whispering consultation. Presently a choir of small voices chanted forth an old Christmas carol .
Washington Irving, via Wikimedia Commons
I rose softly, slipt on my clothes, opened the door suddenly, and beheld one of the most beautiful little fairy groups that a painter could imagine. It consisted of a boy and two girls, the eldest not more than six, and lovely as seraphs. They were going the rounds of the house, and singing at every chamber door; but my sudden appearance frightened them into mute bashfulness. They remained for a moment playing on their lips with their fingers, and now and then stealing a shy glance from under their eyebrows, until, as if by one impulse, they scampered away, and as they turned an angle of the gallery, I heard them laughing in triumph of their escape.
The window of my chamber looked out upon what in summer would have been a beautiful landscape. There was a sloping lawn, a fine stream winding at the foot of it, and a tract of park beyond, with noble clumps of trees, and herds of deer. At a distance was a neat hamlet, with the smoke from the cottage chimneys hanging over it; and a church with its dark spire in strong relief against a clear, cold sky. The house was surrounded with evergreens, according to the English custom, which would have given almost the appearance of summer; but the morning was extremely frosty; the light vapor of the preceding evening had been precipitated by the cold, and covered all the trees and every blade of grass with its fine crystallizations. The rays of a bright morning sun had a dazzling effect among the glittering foliage. A robin, perched upon the top of a mountain ash that hung its clusters of red berries just before my window, was basking himself in the sunshine and piping a few notes; and a peacock was displaying all the glories of his train, and strutting with the pride and gravity of a Spanish grandee on the terrace walk below.
I had scarcely dressed myself when a servant appeared to invite me to family prayers. He showed me the way to a small chapel in the old wing of the house, where I found the principal part of the family already assembled in a kind of gallery, furnished with cushions, hassocks, and large prayer books; the servants were seated on benches below. The old gentleman read prayers from a desk in front of the gallery, and Master Simon acted as clerk, and made the responses.
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The service was followed by a Christmas carol, which Mr. Bracebridge himself had constructed from a poem of his favorite author, Herrick; and it had been adapted to an old church-melody by Master Simon.
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I afterwards understood that early morning service was read on every Sunday and saints’ day throughout the year, either by Mr. Bracebridge or some member of the family. It was once almost universally the case at the seats of the nobility and gentry in England, and it is much to be regretted that the custom is falling into neglect.
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Our breakfast consisted of what the Squire denominated true old English fare. He indulged in some bitter lamentations over modern breakfasts of tea and toast, which he censured as among the causes of modern effeminacy and weak nerves, and the decline of the old English heartiness; and though he admitted them to his table to suit the palates of his guests, yet there was a brave display of cold meats, wine, and ale, on the sideboard.
After breakfast I walked about the grounds with Frank Bracebridge and Master Simon. We were escorted by a number of . . . dogs, that seemed loungers about the establishment, from the frisking spaniel to the steady old stage-hound,–the last of which was of a race that had been in the family time out of mind; they were all obedient to a dog whistle, which hung to Master Simon’s buttonhole, and in the midst of their gambols would glance an eye occasionally upon s small switch he carried in his hand.
The old mansion had a still more venerable look in the yellow sunshine than by pale moonlight, and I could not but feel the force of the Squire’s idea, that the formal terraces, heavily moulded balustrades, and clipped yew trees carried with them an air of proud aristocracy. There appeared to be an unusual number of peacocks about the place, and I was making some remarks upon what I termed a flock of them, that were basking under a sunny wall, when I was corrected in my phraseology by Master Simon, who told me that, according to the most ancient and approved treatise on hunting I must say a muster of peacocks. “In the same way,” added he, “we say a flight of doves or swallows, a bevy of quails, a herd of deer, of wrens or cranes, a skulk of foxes, or a building of rooks.” He went on to inform me that, according to Sir Anthony Fitzherbert, we ought to ascribe to this bird, “both understanding and glory; for, being praised, he will presently set up his tail, chiefly against the sun, to the intent you may the better behold the beauty thereof. But at the fall of the leaf, when his tail falleth, he will mourn and hide himself in corners, till his tail come again as it was.”
I found that the peacocks were birds of some consequence at the hall; for Frank Bracebridge informed me that they were great favorites with his father, who was extremely careful to keep up the breed; partly because they belonged to chivalry, and were in great request at the stately banquets of olden time, and partly because they had a pomp and magnificence about them, highly becoming an old family mansion.
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While we were talking we heard the distant tolling of the village bell, and I was told that the Squire was a little particular in having his household at Church on Christmas morning, considering it a day of pouring out of thanks and rejoicing.
“If you are disposed to go to church,” said Frank Bracebridge, “I can promise you a specimen of my cousin Simon’s musical achievements. As the church is destitute of an organ, he has formed a band from the village amateurs, and established a musical club for their improvement; he has also sorted a choir.”
via Wikimedia Commons
As the morning, though frosty was remarkably fine and clear, the most of the family walked to the church, which was a very old building of gray-stone, and stood near a village, about half a mile from the park gate. Adjoining it was a low snug parsonage, which seemed coeval with the church. The front of it was perfectly matted with a yew-tree, that had been trained against the walls, thorough the dense foliage of which, apertures had been formed to admit light into the small antique lattices. As we passed this nest, the parson issued forth and preceded us.
The parson was a little meagre, black-looking man, with a grizzled wig that was too wide, and stood off from each ear; so that his head seemed to have shrunk away within it, like a dried filbert in its shell. He wore a rusty coat, with great skirts, and pockets that would have held the church Bible and prayer-book: and his small legs seemed still smaller from being planted in large shoes, decorated with enormous buckles.
I was informed by Frank Bracebridge, that the parson had been a chum of his father’s at Oxford, and had received this living shortly after the latter had come into his estate.
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On reaching the church-porch, we found the parson rebuking the gray-headed sexton for having used mistletoe among the greens with which the church was decorated. It was, he observed, an unholy plant, profaned by having been used by the Druids in their mystic ceremonies; and though it might be innocently employed in the festive ornamenting of halls and kitchens, yet it had been deemed by the Fathers of the Church as unhallowed, and totally unfit for sacred purposes. So tenacious was he on this point, that the poor sexton was obliged to strip down a great part of the [mistletoe] before the parson would consent to enter upon the service of the day.
The interior of the church was venerable but simple; on the walls were several mural monuments of the Bracebridges, and just beside the altar was a tomb of ancient workmanship, on which law the effigy of a warrior in armor, with his legs crossed, a sign of his having been a Crusader.
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The orchestra was in a small gallery, and presented a most whimsical grouping of heads, piled one upon the other, among which I particularly noticed that of the village tailor, . . . who played the clarinet, and seemed to have blown his face to a point; and there was another . . . man stooping and laboring at a bass-viol, so as to show nothing but the top of a round bald head . . .There were two or three pretty faces among the female singers,. . . but the gentlemen choristers had evidently been chosen more for tone than looks; . . . .
The usual services of the choir were managed tolerably well, the vocal parts generally lagging a little behind the instrumental. . . .
The parson gave us a most erudite sermon on the rites and ceremonies of Christmas, and the propriety of observing it not merely as a day of thanksgiving, but of rejoicing. . . .
[O]n leaving the church the congregation seemed one and all possessed of the gayety of spirit so earnestly enjoined by their pastor. The elder folks gathered in knots in the churchyard, greeting and shaking hands; and the children ran about crying Yule! Yule! And repeating some uncouth rhymes, which the parson, who had joined us, informed me had been handed down from days of yore. The villagers doffed their hats to the Squire as he passed, giving him the good wishes of the season with every appearance of heartfelt sincerity, and were invited by him to the hall, to take something to keep out of the cold of the weather; and I heard blessings uttered by several of the poor, which convinced me that in the midst of his enjoyments, the worthy old cavalier had not forgotten the true Christmas virtue of charity.
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The Squire went on to lament the deplorable decay of the games and amusements which were once prevalent in this season among the lower orders, and countenanced by the higher; when the old halls of castles and manor-houses were thrown open at daylight;; when the tables were covered with brawn, and feed, and humming ale; when the harp and the carol resounded all day long, and when the rich and poor were alike welcome to enter and make merry.* [*Note: An English gentleman, at the opening of the great day, i.e., on Christmas day in the morning, had all his tenants and neighbors enter his hall by daybreak. The strong beer was broached, and the blackjacks went plentifully about with toast, sugar, and nutmeg and good Christmas cheese. The Hackin (the great sausage) must be boiled by daybreak, or else two young men must take the maiden (i.e., the cook) by the arms, and run her round the market-place till she is shamed of her laziness.” quoted from Round about our Sea-Coal Fire.
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We had not been long home when the sound of music was heard from a distance. A band of country lads, without coats, their shirtsleeves fancifully tied with ribbons, their hats decorated with greens, and clubs in their hands, were seen advancing up the avenue, followed by a large number of villagers and peasantry. They stopped before the hall door, where the music struck up a peculiar air, and the lads performed a curious and intricate dance, advancing, retreating, and striking their clubs together, keeping exact time to the music; while one, whimsically crowned with a fox’s skin, the tail of which flaunted down his back, kept capering round the skirts of the dance, and rattling a Christmas box with many antic gesticulations.
The Squire . . . gave me the full account of [this dances’} origin, which he traced to the times when the Romans held possession of the island; plainly proving that this was a lineal descendant of the sword-dance of the ancients. “It is now,. . . nearly extinct, but he had accidentally met with traces of it in the neighborhood, and had encouraged its revival; though, to tell the truth, it was too apt to be followed up by the rough cudgel play, and broken heads in the evening.”
After the dance was concluded, the whole party was entertained with brawn and beef, and stout home-brewed. The Squire himself mingled among the rustics, and was received with awkward demonstrations of deference and regard. . . .
The bashfulness of the guests soon gave way before good cheer and affability. There is something genuine and affectionate in the gayety of the lower orders, when it is excited by the bounty and familiarity of those above them. . . . When the Squire had retired, the merriment increased and there was much joking and laughter. . . .
The whole house seemed abandoned to merriment: as I passed my room to dress for dinner I heard the sound of music in a small court, and looking through a window that commanded it, I perceived a band of wandering musicians, with pandean pipes and a tambourine, a pretty coquettish housemaid was dancing a jig with a smart country lad, while several of the servants were looking on.
They were clumsy platforms that raised the shoe a few inches from the ground to protect the hem of a gown and they were used by men as well as women, in the country on muddy, rutted lanes and in London when walking on horse infested pavement.
Pattens date back to the 14th century. Only the rich would have been able to afford these porcelain china pattens worn to protect their long and ornate robes.
These are huge pattens worn by Turkish women in 1738.
By the 18th and 19th centuries, men’s shoes had thicker soles, hemlines rose, and as roadways and transportation improved pattens were abandoned by the ladies as well and were worn only by the working class men and women as they went about their duties.
More than half of our authors have book releases this year as well as many of our Regency writing friends of the blog. This year is going to provide a plethora of choices for the inspirational Regency reader. We’re especially excited for the debut releases of Vanessa and Sarah!
