When Amanda and I first discussed me writing today’s blog, I had suggested writing about some obscure 18th century music that had been recently discovered in the North East of England, but I also mentioned that I was going to Venice. Amanda kindly gave me a choice, and because Venice is Venice, you are getting Venice.

Because Carnival finished a few days before I arrived and the paving stones still were littered with confetti, I include a picture of the mannequin from the lobby of my hotel. The dress was absolutely stunning. Carnival of course died out in the early decades of the 20th century and was revived in 1979. Even the mask making had be re-learnt. It is possible to buy high-quality masks based on traditional designs, based on the Commedia dell’Arte. These are held in place either by ribbons or in the case of some traditional women’s masks, by clamping a little piece with your lips. When wearing a mask, women were expected to be silent. The Venetian tradition of mass gives rise to the masquerade balls.

More than any other city, Venice still evokes the spirit of the past. To travel to Venice is to step back into another world, primarily because there are no cars. Motorboats are strictly regulated and once you are in the back streets the main noise is silence or the sound of voices. Gondolas do ply their trade, but most people walk.

One of the main differences between today’s gondolas and the gondolas that Byron, Shelley, or a whole host of other Regency aristocrats would have taken is that the wooden shelter, or felze, is no longer used. It’s possible to see an early 19th century gondola in the courtyard of Ca’Rezzonico, one of the few palazzos on the Grand Canal open to the public, and dedicated to the 18th century. Its double story ballroom with its painted frescoes and magnificent chandeliers is highly evocative. But I was surprised to see how much trompe l’oeil was used rather than actual plaster!

Both of the famous cafes on St. Marks’s Plaza–Florian’s (1720) and Quadri’s (1775) has painted interiors but they only date from the 1850s. It is still possible at both cafes to get proper bittersweet hot chocolate. Personally, I preferred Quadri’s, but it was a close run thing. You are served a pot of hot chocolate, a jug of warm milk, and sugar. It is up to you to make the chocolate how you want it. My husband reported that the coffee was also very good. Quadri’s was known as the Austrian cafe during the occupation, and its upstairs restaurant has been serving meals since 1844.

So much of the 18th century is preserved because after Napoleon conquered the Venetian Republic in 1797, many Venetians lost their money. It was only through Canova’s efforts at the peace conference that many of Venice’s treasures, including the 4 horses, were returned. Some paintings were only returned in the 1970s, and the Louvre still holds a few. Unfortunately Austria did retain control of the city until 1866, when the citizens joined the new Kingdom of Italy.

Venice, because of its art, has always been an important stop on the Grand Tour. For example, most of Caneletto’s paintings were bought by Englishmen. This might have something to do with the British consul at the time, Joseph Smith, also being Caneletto’s agent. (As an aside for Diane, in 1717 Smith married one Catherine Tofts, who sang at Drury Lane and Haymarket before going to Venice in 1711). With its Carnival, its gaming houses (the Ridotto closed in 1774, but gaming continued in private houses, and today Venice has one of the few official casinos) and general atmosphere of frivolity because life is short, Venice exerted powerful influence on the men and women who visited it, and still does.

Michelle Styles’s latest UK release is Impoverished Miss, Convenient Wife, and is set in 1813 Northumberland. Vist her website here for more details!

So, this Tuesday is St. Patrick’s Day! The day when everyone gets to be just a little bit Irish. As you all know, I’ve been deeply immersed in late 18th century Irish history for my WIP (which is finally closing in on The End, slowly but surely!), and I thought about pulling out some of my mountains of research for a post today.

But, let’s be honest–St. Patty’s Day isn’t really about oppression and uprisings (though there are plenty of great, sad ballads about such to be heard in every bar on the day!). It’s about dyeing your dog green (disclaimer–I would not do this myself, because my dogs probably wouldn’t stand still for it, but a guy I knew in college did…), putting on a silly hat, and going to parades to wave at other green dogs, bands, and step dancers. It’s about going to a pub to listen to jigs, eat some fish and chips, and have a pint.

So, in honor of the day, here’s a brief history of everyone’s favorite St. Patty’s day drink, that wondrous Irish institution–Guinness!

Arthur Guinness was born in Celbridge, County Kildare, in 1725, where he first learned the art of brewing from his father Richard, whose job as land steward to the Archbishop of Cashel included overseeing the brewing of beer for the workers. In 1759, Arthur signed a 9000-year lease on a disused brewery in St. James’s Gate in Dublin for the price of 45 pounds per year.

He started by brewing ale, and in the 1770s started brewing porter, a newish type of English dark beer that was growing in popularity (the distinctive feature in the flavor is the roasted barley, which remains unfermented. It gives Guinness its dark color and taste). This porter proved so successful that by 1799 Arthur had ceased brewing ale, and by the time of his death in 1803 he left a highly prosperous business behind (he also left a widow, the former Olivia Whitmore, and 21 children, 10 of which lived to adulthood). His son, Arthur Jr., then took over the brewery.

Arthur Jr. grew the business even further, expanding the export trade (the first Guinness exports was in May 1769, with six and a half barrels of ale sent to England), and brewing a new beer “Extra Superior Porter.” By the 1830s, the St. James’s Brewery was the largest brewery in Ireland.

A couple of good sources are: Guinness’s Brewery in the Irish Economy: 1759-1876 by Patrick Lynch and John Vaizey, and Iowerth Griffith’s Beer and Cider in Ireland: The Complete Guide. You can check out the Guinness website here, and Little Shamrocks for some fun Irish trivia. And this is a great recipe for chocolate Guinness cake (chocolate and Guinness! How can you go wrong? And it’s from Nigella, too)

I’m off to a parade this afternoon, and then to listen to some Irish bands at a local “pub” (not a totally genuine pub, natch, but the bar did come from a pub in Ireland that was being torn down! So at least it looks authentic…) What are your plans for the day? Do they involve Guinness???

Happy weekend, everyone! The sun is shining, flowers are blooming, it’s spring–and I wrote The End on my WIP. It is Fug Madness on Go Fug Yourself. I have Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs. Happy, happy, happy Saturday! I also have a few updates on my Amanda McCabe site here, including an excerpt from The Diamonds of Welbourne Manor. And Laurel McKee’s site is having its Big Debut, right here! A few tweaks still need, well, tweaking, but there’s release info, historical background on Ireland in 1798, and an excerpt. Let me know what you think!

A few days ago, I took a quiz on Facebook called “What kind of writer are you?” I got the result–Jane Austen. Woo-hoo! What romance writer wouldn’t love that? But then I started wondering if, in real writing life, I might owe more stylistically to the Brontes. I do love the Dramatic Moment, the Big Reveal, the whole wandering on the moors shouting things like “How can I live without my love?” type stuff.

Maybe it’s because Jane Eyre was the first “classic” I ever read (except for things like Anne of Green Gables and Little Women), and wow did I love it. I’ve been a sucker for 19th century England (and moor-wandering) ever since. I adore the Brontes, both their books and their oddball family story.

Which seems appropriate, since in one month from today, on April 21, it will be Charlotte Bronte’s birthday! Nothing like an early happy birthday. She was born April 21, 1816 in Thornton, Yorkshire, the third of 6 children of Patrick Bronte, clergyman, and Maria Branwell. In April 1821, the family moved to the famous parsonage at Haworth (you can see its website here), where Patrick was appointed Perpetual Curate. Maria died in September that year, leaving her five daughters and son to the indifferent care of her sister, Elizabeth Branwell (who seems to have stayed mostly in her own room!). In 1824, Charlotte and 3 of her sisters (Emily, Maria, and Elizabeth, Anne being too young) went to the Clergy Daughters’ School at Cowan Bridge in Lancashire (which gained infamy as the wretched Lowood School in Jane Eyre). Maria and Elizabeth died there, and Charlotte and Emily were never really healthy afterwards.

Back home at the parsonage, Charlotte, Emily, Anne and Branwell set about chronicling their imaginary worlds of Gondal and Angria, convoluted sagas that still exist in partial manuscripts. Charlotte went on to continue her education in 1831 at Roe Head, where she wrote her first novella, The Green Dwarf (1833). She taught at the school from 1835 to 1838, taking up her first governess position in 1839. In 1842, she and Emily went to study in Brussels, at a pensionnat run by Constantin Heger and his wife Claire. After Emily departed, Charlotte’s stay in Brussels took a turn into loneliness, homesickness, and a crush on the married Constantin (this time was used as inspiration for her later novels The Professor and Villette).

Back home again in Yorkshire, the three sisters published a volume of poetry in 1846, under the names of Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell (the volume only sold 2 copies, but the names stuck for a while). Jane Eyre was published to much acclaim in 1847, but much sorrow was just around the corner. Branwell, rumored to be a drunk and a laudanum addict, died in September 1848. (When I dropped into the National Portrait Gallery last fall, I made a point of going to look at his portrait of the sisters which hangs there). Emily and Anne died soon after, in December 1848 and May 1849, leaving Charlotte alone with their father.

But things were not entirely bleak. After the great success of JE, Charlotte visited London occasionally, where she revealed her true identity and met other authors, including Harriet Martineau, Elizabeth Gaskell (who wrote the first Charlotte Bronte biography), Thackeray, and GH Lewes. In June 1854, she married her father’s curate, Arthur Bell Nicholls, and soon after became pregnant. She died, along with the unborn child, on March 31, 1855, at the age of 38. She was buried in the Bronte family vault in the Church of St. Michael and All Angels at Haworth.

I have a big pile of Bronte biographies on my shelves, but some favorites are: Juliet Barker’s The Brontes; Rebecca Fraser’s Charlotte Bronte; Margot Peters’ Charlotte Bronte, Unquiet Soul; and The Oxford Reader’s Companion to the Brontes.

Do you love the Brontes, too? What are your favorites among their books? Anyone visited Haworth (I haven’t had the chance yet, but it’s high on my Travel Wish List!) Have a good Saturday, everyone…

Nicola Cornick rejoins the Riskies today, with tales of traveling from the Scotland of her newest release from Harlequin Historicals, Kidnapped: His Innocent Mistress, to the American West! Nicola, welcome back, and tell us about Kidnapped and your latest US holiday…

It’s so lovely to be back here at Risky Regencies and to be talking about books, travel, and inspiration! What better combination could there be?

So to Scotland first and I think I must be one of the luckiest people in the world because I go there every year to visit family. Under the circumstances it’s surprising that I’ve never set a book there before because it is one of my favorite places and I love reading historical romances set in Scotland. Kidnapped: His Innocent Mistress is inspired by all the places I love to visit in Wester Ross in the Highlands. The village of Applecross, which is Catriona Balfour’s home at the start of the book, is a very special place, accessed by only two roads, one of which is a high mountain pass with views across the sea to the Outer Hebrides. The Gaelic name for the Applecross Peninsula is “a Chomraich,” which means “The Sanctuary.” The site of the old abbey at Applecross, built in AD 673 by Irish saint Maelrubha still has one of the most peaceful and inspiring atmospheres that I have ever experienced.

Further along the coast is Sheildaig, a village that was originally to raise and train sailors to fight in the Napoleonic Wars. Grants were given for boats, and 2700 pounds was spent building the three main streets, which these days are neat and whitewashed and very pretty. From there the road turns inland between the high mountains of Torridon and this is the route that Catriona takes in my story as she travels to her new home in Glen Clair. The old house at Glen Clair is another place inspired by a real location–the Coulin Estate. In a spectacularly beautiful setting in the mountains, Coulin is somewhere we return to year after year. It was in the ownership of the MacKenzie family of Gairloch from the 16th century and in the Regency period the tenants suffered eviction in order to make way for sheep farming. This was of course the fate of many Highland families during the 18th and 19th centuries. These “Highland Clearances” forced many families to the coast, the Scottish Lowlands, and abroad to countries including Australia and Canada.

At Glen Clair my heroine Catriona becomes embroiled in the illegal whisky distilling business! There were many illegal stills hidden in the mountains, in caves that were away from the prying eyes of the excise men and in remote glens. The euphemistically-named “teahouse” at Coulin really did provide illegal refreshment for drovers crossing the mountains and it is still there though these days it is used as a mountain bothy rather than a place offering alcoholic beverages! Just as smuggling was condoned or even encouraged by many of the gentry in England, so many of the Scots would turn a blind eye to what was going on. Ministers of the church were even known to hide the whisky in coffins to deceive the excise men!

From Scotland to the US, and when Kidnapped arrived in the US bookstores at the beginning of March, I was thrilled to be there to see it! It’s no secret I love visiting the US and this time our holiday started in San Diego with a trip to the historic waterfront, taking in the 1863 ship the Star of India and the HMS Surprise, a replica of an 18th century Royal Navy frigate that was used in the filming of Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World. That was my treat, and afterwards we visited the USS Midway as a treat for my dh!

Our ten-day whale-watching holiday down the coast of the Baja Peninsula and into the Sea of Cortes might not seem to have the most obvious of historical connections (though it was spectacular in itself) but I had read up on Baja history and legends and devoured the stories of pirates and buccaneers, coming back with what I hope will be a wonderful plot for my next HQN book! From Mexico we flew back to Phoenix and travelled to Monument Valley and the Grand Canyon, finally driving back to Los Angeles via the historic Route 66. On the way we stopped off in Oatman. What a place!

Oatman began over 100 years ago as mining tent camp and quickly became a flourishing gold-mining center when in 1915, two miners struck a $10 million gold find. The mining boom was short-lived. In 1921, a fire burned down many of the smaller shacks in town, and 3 years later the main mining company, United Eastern Mines, shut down operations for good. Oatman survived by catering to travellers on Route 66. But in the 1960s, when the route became I-40, Oatman almost died.

Oatman was such a fun place to visit. I’d never been to an old Western town, and I loved the tame burros roaming the streets begging for carrots and the gunfight staged by the ghostrider gunfighters! My dh loved all the photo opportunities presented by the old buildings including the Oatman Hotel, where Clark Gable and Carol Lombard honeymooned and Gable allegedly played poker with the local miners!

We came home with some amazing memories and some equally spectacular photographs, and for me some inspiring story ideas. It doesn’t seem to matter where I travel–seeing new sights, talking to people and reading up on the history always seems to inspire me with ideas for my writing.

What is you favorite setting for historical romances?? And which places particularly inspire you?

Info on Nicola’s latest release can be found at her website! And there are still a few days left to enter Nicola and Amanda’s contest while you’re there…

Nicola will give away two copies of Kidnapped to lucky commenters on today’s post!

March is a strange month. It’s not quite the “armpit of the year” (that would be February, the Darkest Month), but it’s not quite spring, either. Sometimes it’s cold (last week), sometimes summer-warm (this week), and it’s always allergenic. But I can see spring just over the horizon as the tips of my lilac bushes turn green, and Daylight Savings Time (not to mention St. Patrick’s Day) is only a couple weeks away!

One thing I’ve been doing this week is planning my garden. I have a tiny house with a wee back yard, but I do like to put in flowers along the front walkway and in pots on the porch, and I have a vegetable patch in the back yard. I’ve been looking over seed catalogs, and think I’m going to try some new heirloom tomatoes this year, as well as cucumbers, green beans, and peppers. Any other suggestions?

So, it seemed appropriate to find that today marks the anniversary of the founding of the Royal Horticultural Society in 1804! (It was just called Horticultural Society then, and gained the “Royal” in 1861, by charter from Prince Albert). According to the Society’s website, “The Royal Horticultural Society is the UK’s leading gardening charity dedicated to advancing horticulture and promoting good gardening. Our goal is to help share a passion for plants, to encourage excellence in horticulture and inspire all those with an interest in gardening.”

The Society was first suggested by John Wedgwood (son of Josiah) in 1800. “He wanted to hold regular meetings, allowing the society’s members the opportunity to present papers on their horticultural activities and discoveries, to encourage discussion of them, and to publish the results. The society would also award prizes for gardening achievements.” It was 4 years before the first meeting, with 7 members, on March 7, 1804 at Hatchards bookshop in Piccadilly, London. The other members included William Townsend Aiton, Superintendent of Kew Gardens; Sir Joseph Banks, President of the Royal Society; and William Forsyth, Superintendent of the gardens of St. James’s Palace and Kensington Palace.

The RHS now has 4 flagship gardens in England, all of which look gorgeous. Wisley Garden, near the village of Wisley in Surrey (pictured at left); Rosemoor in Devon; Hyde Hall in Essex; and Harlow Carr in Harrogate, North Yorkshire. Their first garden was in Kensington from 1818 to 1822, and in 1821 they leased part of the estate of Chiswick to set up an experimental garden. They held fetes there, and shows with competitive classes for flowers and vegetables.

They’re also famous for their annual flower shows, the most well-known being the Chelsea Flower Show. There are also 8 London Flower Shows at the Royal Horticultural Halls, the yearly Hampton Court Palace Flower Show, and Tatton Park Flower Show in Cheshire, and they also administer the Britain in Bloom competition. (I’ve never attended one of these shows, but I love looking at the photos every year and trying to find out if the plants featured would also flourish here).

A good source to learn more about the RHS is Brent Elliott’s The Royal Horticultural Society, A History: 1802-2004.

Reading about all of this just makes me want spring to get here sooner, so I can go out and dig in the dirt! Do you garden? What are some of your favorite “crops”? And if you’ve ever attended one of these flower shows, or seen the RHS gardens, tell us about it! Happy almost-spring, everyone…