Category: Uncategorized

Scattered Petals

Tammy here.

What is real romance? Is it roses and chocolates, Diamonds and furs? Does the more money he spends on you measure how much he loves you? 


I remember back in the beginning of my marriage I just wanted my husband to give me thoughtful gifts. He hated buying for me because he didn’t think he could please me. He couldn’t understand I only wanted him to put some thought in the selection. I love to give gifts. Buying just the right gift for my family and friends is a joy for me. For others like my husband it is a hated chore.


I told my husband more than once Roses are nice but it would mean more to me if you picked me wild flowers. I spent a lot of frustrated years trying to get him to understand it’s not the gift, it’s the thought behind it.


In the early days of our marriage Western clothes and accessories were in. (Dating myself here). We had just left a western store filled with beautiful clothes and jewelry. He was complaining about not knowing what to get me for Christmas. I told him, “Anything you pick out for me in this store I will love.” Can you see my mistake? I couldn’t wait for Christmas. Imagine my surprise when I opened the box with the western store’s logo and found, not a long flowing white skirt to wear with my boots or a set of silver earrings with a bracelet to match, but a belt buckle with my initial on it. I tried not to let him see my disappointment because I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. I am sure you all have similar stories.


I am happy to say it only took twenty years to finally make him understand. For years I got roses for Valentine’s Day or my Birthday. They were nice, but where’s the thought in that?  Then one year in October on my birthday I came home from work to find Black Eyed Susan petals (my very own special birthday flowers from God every year) scattered in a path from my front door to the kitchen table leading to a mason jar filled with a bouquet of the yellow flowers. It didn’t matter I had to clean up the twigs and leaves scattered over the floor. It was the best birthday ever and he was so proud of himself.


For Christmas that year he stayed on a roll. He bought me a sleeping bag. Don’t laugh. It was neon green, my favorite color. So far that is the best Christmas gift I’ve received from him. He has bought me diamonds and roses and many other expensive gifts over the years and I do love them but the most romantic memories will always be of scattered petals and a bright green sleeping bag, because he finally stepped out of his comfort zone and thought to himself, I think she’ll like this.


Images courtesy of morguefile.com. No attribution required. 

Originally posted 2012-02-15 10:00:00.

Reflections on Valentine’s Day

Valentine’s Day in Regency England

Cards were already a popular custom for all classes by regency times. Most were home-and-handmade from plain to fancy, depending on what the sender could afford. Fancier ones might include gilt-edged paper and real lace (paper lace didn’t come into production until later in the century). Woodcuts or copperplate engraved cards existed but this process was still hand-done and thus time-consuming, so mass-produced cards didn’t come on the market until the 1820s. This coincided with the standardization of the postal system, making sending cards cheaper.

For those who had trouble with a rhyme, there were publications called “Valentine writers,” chock full of ready-made verses for gentlemen to use. Some even contained poetical replies for ladies to use.

Everybody’s Valentine Writer; or True Lover’s Notebook; and Kemmish’s Annual and Universal Valentine Writer, or the Lover’s Instructor were a couple published in England in the late 18th century.

A sample of a lady’s reply to a gentleman’s verse, from Everybody’s Valentine Writer:

To a Gentleman

With proverbs, sir, I see you play;

With proverbs, too, I answer nay—

 

The Language of Flowers

Although special significance of flowers became most popular in Victorian times, lovers’ messages through flowers was already seen in regency times. Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, wife of the British ambassador to the Ottoman Empire , described a “secret language of flowers,” when her letters home were published posthumously in 1763. This language was a form of Turkish and Persian poetry called selam, which used words that rhymed with flower names. In 18th century Europe this developed into giving flowers sentimental significance (ie. a rose symbolizing love).

 

Various and changing meanings were ascribed to different flowers, but you wouldn’t want to receive a striped carnation in 1819, which according to Madame Charlotte de la Tour, who published a dictionary on flower language entitled [sic] Le Language des Fleur, meant “I’m sorry, I must say no.”

Yellow carnation, you disappoint me...

 

 

Nor would you want to receive a yellow carnation, which meant “You disappoint me.”

 


 

Better would be a red rose from your true love; or a pansy (“you occupy my thoughts”); or perhaps an arum, which meant ardor.

The Art of the Valentine Card

The reputedly oldest valentine card in existence is owned by the British Royal Mail. It dates from 1790. Its four points open up to reveal a love poem, but the outside words are already quite enchanting:

Valentine card circa 1790

“My dear the Heart which you behold,
Will break when you the same unfold,
Even so my heart with lovesick pain,
Sure wounded is and breaks in twain.”

 

Sources:

The Evening Independent, Feb. 14, 1977

The Year’s Festivals, Helen Philbrook Patten, 1903

The Quest of the Quaint, Virginia Robie, 1916

http://www.newyorker.com/archive/1947/02/15/1947_02_15_021_TNY_CARDS_000207379

http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/documents/11feb2011-aac.pdf

Originally posted 2012-02-13 10:00:00.

Sour Bitter Smash

Sour Bitter Smash Drink

If you plan to attend Culture, Cocktails, and Culinary Creations at Buns and Roses 2020 with Tracey Livesay, Priscilla Oliveras, and me, please hop between us, pick your drink, and make it with us during the live virtual session. My drink pulls on my Caribbean heritage and my need for things to be perfectly sweet–not too sugary, not bland, but perfect. Below are my recipe and a little history tidbit.

One of the greatest contributions to the modern world is Trinidad’s Bitters.

Angostura bitters are an aromatic staple that can often be found in your local grocery store. In 1824, Dr. Johann Siegert opened a business to sell bitters as a medicinal tincture, but the surprising tasty concoction found its way into beverages. The secret bitters formula is more closely guarded than Coke-Cola’s. The Angostura Company produces batches in unmarked bags of ingredients. The production schedule is irregular and only happens when the stock in the Port of Spain warehouse is low.

Sour Bitter Smash is a drink that speaks to the fun one can have when sweet fruity flavors blend with perfect hints of bitters.

Sour Bitter Smash

1 cup soursop (guanabana) juice* or pineapple juice

1/2 cup strawberry lemonade

4 dashes of angostura bitters

1 1/2 teaspoons blue curaçao liqueur

Ice cubes

Non-alcoholic

6 tablespoons of good seltzer water

Alcoholic

6 tablespoons of good gin

Garnish: Edible flower or burnt lemon rind.

Choose the your version of my smash,  load all ingredients in a cocktail shaker. Fill with ice. Cover and shake well. Strain and pour into two fancy glasses. Garnish and enjoy.

Sour Bitter Smash Drink
Sour Bitter Smash – a Drink that salutes the Islands

Hop to my buddy’s drinks:

Priscilla’s Drink

Tracey’s Drink

Originally posted 2020-10-11 22:55:08.

4 Ingredient Christmas Cookies

It’s four ingredients. Yes, four and these gems are so good. I love to cook, so you’ll often find me in the kitchen. I like elegant great tasting easy to create recipes. So this is one of my personal favorites.

Ingredients:
1 cup of peanut butter, the crunchy type with peanuts
1 egg white (You need to cut the cholesterol somewhere.)
1 cup of sugar (I use raw cane sugar, sounds healthier, but you may eat so many that this doesn’t help)

1/2 of Christmas Candy or Chocolate chopped to be peanut size.

Directions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Line a baking tray with parchment or a silicone mat. They will stick to your tray if you don’t, not good eats, a big mess. No one has time for all that cleaning.
Combine all the ingredients together mixing until you have a smooth dough-like consistency.
Take a scoop of it and form a small ball. Flatten it out onto the tray.
Get fancy and make crisscrosses with a fork’s tines. Place the cookies at least an inch apart.

When your tray is full and your oven is ready, pop these into the oven for about 7 minutes. Be careful not to overbake and adjust your timing based on your oven. The cookies should be a light golden brown. You want these to be chewy.
When you take them from the oven, let them cool on the tray for about 2 minutes, then transfer the cookies to a wire cooling rack. I usually just pick up the parchment and set it on the rack to cool completely.

Your patience will be reward with chewy yummy goodness.

My Favorite Christmas Novel: Frederica is quite the hostess and loves to make sure her guest has the right treats. Find out more about her in The Butterfly Bride:

Originally posted 2019-12-06 22:26:02.

Apologetic View of Slavery in Demerara

Vanessa here.

I love reading primary sources to gain a view of the world within the context of the time. The Political Economy is one such narrative.

I had the opportunity to read it and observe what I can only hope was an abolitionist’s view of how to economically show the ills of slavery. In truth, it feels like an earnest but inauthentic gaze at the life of the enslaved complete with white saviors and a debasement of the underhanded negro, “gaming the system” to the peril of his owners to gain his freedom.

Harriet Martineau’s Political Economy, circa 1832. Below is a critique of planters or settlers in the West Indies.

Stats used to show that manumitted slaves were able to care for themselves and not incapable as often thought by slave planters.

Comparison of Barbados’s enslavement and that of Demerara, somewhat arguing that higher rates of manumission equalled higher productivity.

The book may have been effective. Slavery in the colonies like Demerara ends The statistics are interesting. Slavery Abolition Act passed Parliament in 1833 and abolished slavery in British colonies, freeing more than 800,000 enslaved Africans in the Caribbean, South Africa, and Canada. It received Royal Assent (William IV) on August 28, 1833, and took effect on August 1, 1834.

Originally posted 2019-10-22 10:26:34.

Saving Miss Caulfield, Part 2 ~ A Regency Short Story by Kristi Ann Hunter

To celebrate our third year of sharing inspirational Regency fiction with our readers, we are giving them brand new short stories. Today we present the conclusion of Saving Miss Caulfield.

Part 1 can be read here

Saving Miss Caulfield, Part 2

Bianca stomped through the main hall, wishing she had on something more substantial than satin slippers. Their soft slapping against the marble floor was decidedly unsatisfactory.

She heard Landon exit the drawing room behind her, his boots thudding against the floor with confident solidity. One more grievance for her to lay at his feet. The urge to run up the stairs was strong, but she forced herself to take the steps at a sedate pace.

“Are you going to answer me?” Landon stood in the hall with his hands on his hips and his head dropped back to look up at her.

Arrogant man. Did he expect her to be delighted about his willingness to sacrifice himself because he couldn’t imagine foisting her off on some other poor bloke?

Bianca did her best to arrange her features into a mirror of his frustrated countenance “Are you going to ask me a question?”

She gripped the banister until her fingers turned white and her arm started to shake. Of all the times she had imagined Landon speaking of marriage between the two of them, not once had he suggested it in the guise of a martyr, with a resigned sigh punctuating the moment instead of a passionate kiss.

He shook his head. “Is that what has your dander up? Come back down then, and I’ll ask properly. Would you like me on one knee perhaps?”

A noise gurgled in the back of her throat, begging, threatening to escape. A growl? A scream? A cry? Some terrifying combination of the three? She swallowed it down and continued her trek up the stairs, pounding each step with enough force to jar her knees and echo through the house.

Quick, light taps indicated Landon was running up the stairs behind her. She would have to abandon pique to obtain speed if she wished to attain privacy before he reached her.

Her brother, Giles, stood in the hall at the top of the stairs, blocking the way to the private salon.

“Step aside, please.” She made to step around him, but he dodged, placing himself in her path once more. Bianca’s eyes narrowed. “Step. Aside. Please.”

“No.”

Had he truly just denied her retreat? His eyes left her face to look over her shoulder. No doubt Landon had reached them.

Giles cleared his throat and looked between the two of them. “May I ask what brings you visiting so early in the day?”

“I asked your sister to marry me,” Landon growled. “Then she left the room.”

Bianca’s laugh was short and rude. “You did not ask.”

He stepped forward, a ruddy splash along his cheekbones matching the angry heat in his gaze. “Will you marry me?”

“No!” Bianca shoved past the two men, fighting the tears. She didn’t want a miserable marriage with Theodore, but she didn’t want to be pitied either.

How could she possibly have a real marriage with Landon when he saw her as a little sister? Would there even be children? How could she be expected to move past her adoration and love for him if she saw his name every time she signed her own?

If her marriage was doomed to be an arrangement for survival, then she would make it one she had a hope of surviving. Marriage to Landon when he didn’t love her back would destroy her.

A strong hand wrapped around her arm and pulled her to a stop. Her momentum swung her around until she faced her captor.

Landon’s face was set, the lines around his mouth deepening as his lips flattened. “Earlier you were resigned to a fate with that cad, Theodore. Give me one good reason why you’d choose him over me.”

Bianca stared at Landon, blinking slowly. Landon sucked his breath in through his teeth, breathing unaccountably fast.

Giles waved a hand at the door next to him. “I’ll be in my study. With the door open.”

Landon didn’t even glance back as Giles departed. Bianca frowned.

“One reason, Bianca.”

What could she say? She could hardly tell him it was because he didn’t love her because she was under no illusion that Mr. Theodore loved her either. Telling Landon that she was in love with him would only make him pity her more.  She opened her mouth, praying inspiration would strike if she started speaking. “You’re… That is to say…”

He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest with a look of confidence. Was he convinced she couldn’t come up with a reason?

“You’re too tall.” She wanted to crawl under a table. Too tall? That’s what she came up with? She deserved his pity for that lack of creativity.

He blinked. “Too tall?”

Her eyes fell to the left. His boot made a fascinating contrast with the polished wood floor.

Then he advanced and her gaze shot back to his face in apprehension. “Too tall? You’ll have to come up with something better than that, Bianca. You’re too smart to throw away your future on something so meaningless.”

Bianca felt her nails cut into her palms as she curled her fingers into fists of determination. He would not pressure her. “Why would I want to marry a man I have to break my neck to look at?”

“Better than a man you’d have to break your soul to live with.”

“My soul is stronger than you think, and it’s much easier to protect than my heart.”

He scoffed. “You think Theodore will have a care for your heart?”

It was Bianca’s turn to look superior. “Of course not. But he’ll get nowhere near it so it’s hardly in danger.”

He leaned forward until his breath bounced off her face. “Why would you marry a man who at best will ignore you?”

“Why would I marry a man who pities me?” Bianca’s eyes widened and she resisted the urge to clap her hands over her mouth. She hadn’t meant to reveal that insecurity, but now that it was out she felt better. There had always been honesty between them.

“I don’t pity you.” His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.

“Are you saying you want to marry me because you love me?”

His mouth opened, but nothing came out. The heat in his eyes seemed banked by fear, giving credence to her assumption that his proposal was prompted by something other than romantic notions. The victory felt hollow.

“You know I love you, Bianca.”

Her eyebrows shot up even as her heart plummeted. He loved her like a sister, had mentioned that often when he teased about needing to soak his feet in chilled water after helping her learn to dance. That he use such a phrase when he knew she meant something different hurt.

“Then kiss me.” It was hard to tell who was more stunned by her challenge. It felt right, though. There was no better way to call him on his manipulation.

Landon looked awkward as he reached a shaky hand toward her cheek. He gently brushed the curls back, laying his hand along the side of her neck.

Her heartbeat increased. Was he going to take her challenge? Was it possible he felt more than she realized?

Ever so slowly, he leaned forward, bending his head toward hers. Their breath mingled, his spicy scent filling Bianca’s senses until air backed up in her lungs. Her eyes drifted shut of their own volition, despite her desire to see every emotion in Landon’s eyes.

His lips connected with hers in the softest caress imaginable, like a butterfly floating by. She waited for more, for him to sweep by again with a firmer pressure, to send her heart fluttering again, but it never came.

Then his hand was gone, leaving her neck cold. By the time she forced her eyes open, there was nothing to see but Landon’s back as he fled down the stairs.

###

Landon paced his study from door to bookcase, seven long strides eating up the floor before he turned and did it again.

His staff was beginning to gather outside the door, occasionally sending someone to peek in on him and ask if he needed anything. They were beginning to look worried. Not that he blamed them. He’d been pacing since he fled here from Bianca’s house hours ago.

This morning it had seemed so simple. He had gone to Bianca’s house, determined to help her work out a plan for escaping Theodore. He’d had no intention of proposing she marry him. Had he?

As soon as he’d made the suggestion, he knew it was the right solution, the only solution. He was a viscount, outranking Theodore’s potential barony. Not to mention he was a friend of the family and more of a gentleman than Theodore ever pretended to be. If she was looking for a practical match, he was a much better choice.

So why had she turned him down?

He changed direction and strode to the window, bracing his hands on either side. His reflection wavered in the glass as evening crept in. The face was one he’d seen every day of his life, but he didn’t know the man anymore.

Since the first inklings of manhood he’d prided himself on keeping his eyes on God instead of the women that distracted so many of his friends. He’d called them fools, knowing that God would provide the right woman in time. Had he been too focused? Like a horse with blinders, so set on moving forward that he missed his destination?

Because he never expected the thought of kissing little Bianca Caulfield to shake him to his very core.

The kiss had been fleeting. He wasn’t positive his lips had even touched hers, but from the first mention of marriage to the moment he’d rested his hand on her cheek, everything he knew about his life had crumbled in on itself. He’d never felt so out of control.

So why did the thought of putting everything back the way it had been tie his stomach in knots?

Even considering what he would need to do to put their relationship back on a friendly level sent panic to his toes.

He looked past his reflection to a couple walking down the street below his window. Their heads tilted towards each other in a sign of intimacy despite the proper amount of space between their strolling bodies. They were obviously in love.

Love.

The panic flowed from him like water. He loved Bianca. And not in the family way he’d always teased her about. Somewhere along the line as she’d grown into womanhood she’d made her way into his heart while she lowered her hemlines and put up her hair.

“George!” he bellowed.

The butler was instantly at the door. How many people were lingering out there? Why did he even care?

“My horse. Now.”

Fifteen minutes later, he found himself in front of Bianca’s house again, determination of a new kind driving him to knock with more force than necessary.

The door unlatched and Landon pushed his way in even as the butler opened it. “Where is she?”

“My lord!”

“Bianca – Miss Caulfield – where is she?”

“The drawing room, my lord, but I must protest –”

Whatever else the man said was lost as Landon’s long legs ate up the floor to the drawing room he’d earlier made a fool of himself in.

There she was. Pretty as a painting with her blonde hair in a simple braid wrapped around her head, still in a plain afternoon dress.  His heart threatened to beat its way out of his chest, but a sense of rightness that filled his soul made everything right. Brought peace to his soul.

Her bright blue eyes widened as she rose to her feet. “Landon?”

He didn’t know how he crossed the room. He could have walked, run, or flew for all he knew and he truly didn’t care, because whatever he’d done had brought her within reach. He leaned in even as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest, his heart, where she belonged.

There was nothing hesitant about his kiss this time. The press of his lips to hers felt like coming home. Her fingers dove into his hair and she sighed into his kiss, relaxing into his arms.

He pulled back, but only far enough to see into her eyes. He rested his forehead against hers, fighting to steady his breath enough to speak. This precious girl, no, this precious woman had always been there for him. He couldn’t imagine his life without her in it.

“I love you, Bianca.”

She bit her lip. “Why now? You didn’t this morning.”

He smoother the curls back from her face with a smile. “I think I did. I was just too thick to know it. You’ve always been part of my life, Bianca. I couldn’t imagine building a life, having children, growing old with anyone else by my side. You are my beloved, my darling. Please tell me you’ll be my bride.”

Her eyes glistened with tears as a wide smile stretched across her face. She nodded, her hair rubbing against his forehead like silk. A light laugh escaped her lips even as a tear ran down her cheek. “Yes, my love. I’ll be your bride.”

Landon picked her up and spun her around, spying Giles leaning in the doorway.

With a bit of heat in his cheeks, Landon placed Bianca back on the floor but kept her close to his side.

“Finally,” Giles said with a smile. “Welcome to the family.”

Surprise caused Landon to go a bit slack-jawed. Giles had known? How could the man know something Landon hadn’t even realized about himself? He looked down at Bianca with her bright smile and loving eyes, and decided he didn’t care.

Originally posted 2015-12-27 18:28:49.

Today in 1820 – Discovery of a Statue

Greece_location_map.svgImagine a clear day on the Aegean Sea, the sea an indigo blue, the sky azure. You are a twenty-three year old French officer aboard the naval schooner Estafette. The vessel drops anchor at Melos one of the Greek isles littering the sea.

This young ensign, Olivier Voutier, who knows a bit about antiquities, as a well-educated gentleman of the regency era would, takes a pick and shovel and hikes up a hillside with a couple of sailors toward the remains of an ancient theater, hoping to find antique statuary near the ruin. Already, Thomas Bruce, seventh Earl of Elgin had brought back sculpted friezes and statues from the Parthenon, known as the “Elgin Marbles” to display at the British Museum.

220px-MilosNapoleon, another lover of antiquity, had purchased many Roman sculptures when he conquered Italy and brought them to the Louvre in Paris.

All things Greek, Roman and Egyptian were highly valued in Europe at the time of the regency.

On this 8th of April, 1820, young Voutier noticed a peasant farmer in a nearby field. He was digging around an ancient wall to use its stones in a structure he was building.  Voutier noticed he stopped and was staring at something in a niche in the wall. Voutier drew near and saw the partially buried statue of a female torso.

Despite her broken arms, chipped nose and other imperfections, Voutier was enthralled by the statue of the nude. Along with the farmer, he was the first person to gaze upon the Venus de Milo since it had graced an ancient Greek wall.

The farmer, who had no use for such statuary, was ready to shovel earth back over it, when Voutier recognized the beauty of this classical sculpture and persuaded him to dig it out.

Eventually Voutier was able to bring other French officials to see the statue. Another naval officer, Jules Dumont d’Urvilles, went to Constantinople, the head of the Ottoman Empire, which controlled Greece and the Greek Isles at that time, and persuaded the French Ambassador to purchase the statue for France.

It was brought to France in 1821 and presented to King Louis XVIII, who donated it to the Louvre220px-Paris_Louvre_Venus_de_Milo_Debay_drawing. The statue was not found in one piece and was broken in parts. The torso was carved from one block of marble, the draped legs from another, smaller blocks for each arm and the left foot. Fragments of the right arm were unearthed as well as the left hand holding an apple, but they were later discarded as not being part of the original statue because the carving was rougher.

The original plinth or pedestal it rested on was also found nearby but because the inscription carved in it with the artist’s name dated it to the Hellenistic period, rather than the earlier Greek Classical, it devalued the statue in the eyes of scholars at the time, so they discarded the plinth and continued to claim it as a statue from the Classical Greek period.

Today, millions of people visit the Louvre to view the Venus de Milo, along with the Mona Lisa and the Winged Victory of Samothrace, another Greek statue.

Aphrodite_of_Milos
Aphrodite (Venus) of Milo

 

Originally posted 2015-12-20 18:19:34.

More about Flowers

I really enjoyed Laurie Alice’s post on flowers in regency England in springtime. It dovetails well with the post I’ve been thinking about, which is on the meanings and legends of common flowers during both the regency and Victorian eras in Britain.

May Flowers in a Teacup
Forget-me-nots and white lilacs in spring

The forget-me-not, a common flower in regency gardens was called by Coleridge “blue and bright-eyed flower of the brook.” It’s official name “myosotis” actually means the not-so-romantic “mouse ear,” so named because of the shape of its leaves.

A German legend has it that a knight fell into a swift stream while picking the forget-me-not for his lady. He had only time to toss it to her and cry, “Forget-me-not!” before he was swept away. British king Henry IV chose it as one of his emblems, and it was often embroidered on the king’s robes.

It was not until the regency that it became a garden flower.

2012plants 031
Foxglove in a Maine garden

Ever wonder why foxgloves are called by that name? Digitalis, the official name, is not nearly as descriptive. The old English name of foxes-glofa means foxes’ gloves. The fable is that foxes were hunted for their tails, which were considered amulets against the snares of the devil. In order to hang onto their furry brushes, they appealed to the gods for help, who gave them bells to hide in the fields. The bells would sound a warning when hunters were about and become silent when the coast was clear.

All that ducking and dodging the hunters had given the foxes rough paws, so that when they went hunting in the chicken coops, the chickens would squawk when seized by them. This time the fairies gave the foxes gloves to cover their paws with, and these became known as fox gloves.

Digitalis, which the leaves yield, is a recognized heart stimulant, which was used by American Indians before it became known in Europe. It is also a poison, so it was only used externally by Europeans until the 18th century. It then began to be used in the treatment of fevers, insanity and heart disease.

091
Red roses in a park in Brooklyn in June

Roses cultivated in Europe before 1800 are usually referred to as “old roses.” Not until 1792 when a rose from China was introduced into Europe did any of them bloom more than once a year. (The only occasional exception was the Damascus). Rose water was used for cooking. Vanilla supplanted it as a flavoring extract in the 17th century. Rose oil, rose water and rose petals continued in British pharmacopoeias but more and more for use in cosmetics. Attar of roses, the essential oil, took 60,000 roses to make one ounce!

One of the earlier spring flowers, the pansy, goes by many names including “Kiss-Me-Quick” and “Johnny-Jump-Up.” The word pansy is derived from the French penser, to think, which is why Ophelia said “Pansies, that’s for thoughts.” Legend had it that to pick one with the dew upon it would cause the death of a loved one. If picked on a fair day, it would rain before night. Pansy juice squeezed on the lids of a sleeper would cause her to fall in love with the first person she saw on awaking, as Titania discovered in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

Axtell_final
A Heart’s Rebellion, London Encounters #2

The hero of my upcoming regency, A Heart’s Rebellion, is an amateur botanist, so he will usually refer to a flower by its official name. The system of classifying plants into genus and species was still a new science in the regency era. The heroine’s name, Jessamine, is a form of jasmine, which the hero is fond of calling by its official name, Gelsemium sempervirens.

Bibliography: Flower Fables by Geraldine E. Nicholson, Mid-America Publishing Corp., Kansas City, Missouri

 

Originally posted 2015-12-13 18:13:45.

A Heart’s Rebellion Wrap Up

A Heart's RebellionThanks to everyone for stopping by our release celebration for A Heart’s Rebellion by Ruth Axtell. We have winners! And answers! And more information about the next book we’re promoting during our Spring Release Extravaganza!

The two winners of A Heart’s Rebellion are Collette C. and Kay M! Congratulations to both of you ladies.

If you’re wondering about the answers to our questions the answer to our first week’s question is:

1. In regency times, being the firstborn male was everything in terms of inheritance. What career avenues were open for younger sons?

Answer: Church and Military

2. What is a famous botanical garden in London, which existed in regency times (which is where Lancelot takes Jessamine)?

Answer: Kew GardensNaomi Rawlings The Soldier's Secret

Thanks to everyone who stopped by so far during our Spring Release Extravaganza, and remember to stop by tomorrow, when you’ll learn about The Soldier’s Secrets by Naomi Rawlings plus have a chance to win more prizes.

Originally posted 2015-12-06 18:06:08.

Parlez-vous Français?

Pride and Prejudice (2005 - Photo: IMDB)

Do you speak French? Or Italian? Perhaps you can even grasp the basics of Latin or Greek?

I can claim to know enough French to be just a wee bit dangerous. I could probably read street signs or order from a café menu in Paris but beyond that, I wouldn’t be the best translator to select for your next trip abroad.  (That’d be enough to get us a meal and a trip to the Louvre, but that’s about it.) College helped some, but I never left class  truly adept at the conversational side of speaking the language that comes from years of dedicated study.

Had you lived in the Regency, you’d not have had the opportunity to partake in any state-run system of education. And depending upon your wealth and station, your access to educational opportunities could differ (and languages studies along with it). Those with less social standing could possibly attend a local charity or church-administered school but for those with means, a boarding school, trained governess (for young ladies), or skilled tutors (for young men) would have administered the education of Regency Era youths.

Though the extent to which you received a Regency education would have largely depended upon your social station and your gender, there was a larger focus on classical language studies than we might see today. In fact, you’d likely have been fluent (or at least educated) in several languages. This was customary, especially with French, as it was the language of diplomacy of the day. To review letters and first-hand accounts of life in the Regency, it is quite clear that the education (and language studies in particular) exceeded many of the expectations of our current system: “Even the letters of Regency-era females who married at seventeen are full of references to the classics, poetry, and the effortless interspersion of French.” (Regency Reader, 2006)

Since we’re talking about education this month, I wondered what it would have been like to study during the Regency Era. How would my knowledge of French stack up against the young English men and women of the day? (Alas… I fear I may have already answered my own question, but we’ll continue anyhow.)

Oxford University (Photo: University Wallpapers)

Les Hommes (Men): Young men could have been taught in the home during their early years, though it was conventional for boys to pursue more formal education once they reached school age. Usually by the age of eight, young men would attend public schools such as those in Eton, Harrow, St. Paul’s or Winchester. Studies of the Classics, Latin, and Greek were standard, as were languages such as French and Italian. (Source: Author Jennifer Kloester’s Georgette Heyer’s Regency World – This book has a wealth of information on education practices for young men and women in the Regency.)

There were university opportunities for gentlemen, though it’s a misnomer that collegiate studies were only available to the wealthy or members of the aristocracy. There were scholarly opportunities for young men of intellect, especially if they could prove worthy of a scholarship. The primary universities for an English gentleman were at Cambridge and Oxford, of which men would first attend at just sixteen or seventeen years of age. And though the educational opportunities at these institutions were virtually limitless, these jaunts at the university were seen as more of a prospect to advance socially than to focus solely on academia.

If a gentleman had neither the inclination nor opportunity to attend the university, he might begin his career in the military. Here the opportunities to expand his knowledge of languages would have been likely (through travel and some ongoing study), though the danger to one’s longevity in this type of career was quite obvious.

Photo: Wiki Commons

Les Filles (Ladies):  In contrast to gentlemen, young ladies of the Regency had more limitations on their educational opportunities than their male counterparts. Though they could be sent to attend an education provided by a boarding school, there were no universities available for females. Young ladies were largely taught in the home and had education in subjects such as French, drawing, dancing, music, poetry and literature, embroidery, and basic instruction in mathematics and the geography of the globe.  As a governess may have deemed appropriate, girls could also be taught the more practical subjects of sewing, darning, the keeping of household ledgers, and in some cases, basic cookery and duties of household management.

Singing? Drawing? Dancing and the modern languages? Perhaps we’ll have to stick to ordering from that Paris café menu or hiring a professional to assist us with a tour of the Louvre? After learning a bit about the extent our Regency Era young men and women went through in their language studies, I’m not feeling so dangerous with my grasp of French any longer. But then again – we have one thing our Regency Era counterparts did not, and that would be access to a snazzy Smart Phone App that would be sure to translate just about anything we need.

What do you remember most about the language studies from your school days? (And could you help me order a pastry at a Paris café, especially if in a true emergency?)

May the light of Christ guide our days, no matter which language we speak as we walk through them.

Au revoir mes amis!

~ Kristy

Originally posted 2015-11-01 22:18:11.