A Must-read Memoir, a Magazine, and a Silk Loom

Hi everyone! Wonderful to be here, and to be able to talk about the background and research for my current Harlequin Historicals trilogy, The Aikenhead Honours, published in March/April/May! (His Cavalry Lady, His Reluctant Mistress, His Forbidden Liaison). Like many authors of historicals, I am absolutely fascinated by history and by the people and incidents I stumble across in my research. This trilogy started because of those happy accidents.

My first piece of luck came when I was searching the British Library’s catalogue for first-hand accounts of the Napoleonic Wars. One search produced the title, “The Cavalry Maiden, Journals of a Female Russian Officer in the Napoleonic Wars.” It sounded irresistible. I’d heard of women serving in the military, especially the navy–but in the cavalry? And as an officer? That was the first book I ordered for my next trip to the Library!

And there she was, Nadezhda Durova, a Russian gentlewoman who spent nearly 10 years in the Russian light cavalry during the Wars, some of them as a common soldier. Later, she was decorated for bravery and commissioned by the Tsar himself. How could a woman live and fight alongside men without giving herself away? Admittedly, she was not particularly good-looking, if this portrait is a true likeness. On the other hand, she was much mocked for her lack of beard which could have given rise to suspicions. I think her success may have been partly because she was a consumate horsewoman and also totally fearless in battle. Perhaps her comrades could not imagine such qualities in a woman?

Rumors grew in the army of a fiercely brave woman, but it seems no one linked them with Durova. In her memoir, she writes with some glee of an encounter with a comrade who swore he had seen the fabled female soldier and would instantly recognize her! Durova, of course, made sure she sounded suitably admiring of her comrade’s cleverness and kept her secret to herself. How could I possibly pass on a heroine like that?

So, I had a basis for a heroine, but I had no hero, no background, and no plot! That was when I happened on my second piece of luck. I was back in the Library, researching a totally different topic, when I came across a copy of the Gentleman’s Magazine which recounted the visit of the Allied powers to London in June 1814, following the defeat of Napoleon and his exile to Elba. One of those visitors was Tsar Alexander of Russia, the same one who had given Durova her commission.

I couldn’t believe my luck! I had the background to a story and a basis for bringing my cavalry lady to London for an encounter with my hero. One slight problem–I didn’t have a hero!

He took a while to come onstage. I had all sorts of ideas and none of them worked. Then, one day, during a boating holiday in France, (with nothing for me to do, since the boat was marooned by floods which had broken all the locks), the hero of His Cavalry Lady appeared out of my subconscious, fully formed, as Dominic, Duke of Calder, government spy. What’s more, he brought two younger brothers with him! Suddenly, my story became a trilogy, the stories of the Aikenhead brothers, Dominic, Leo, and Jack.

It took me 2 years to write the books, much longer than usual. Why? Because I had underestimated how difficult it is to write romance centered around so much real history, and so many real places and real characters. If you read the stories, you’ll see that they are full of historical figures, from the Prince Regent and his wife and daughter, to most of the crowned heads of Europe, their families and advisors. They’re not just background–they are actors in the story. I was also using some settings I hadn’t visited, like St. Petersburg and Vienna. I needed to know what these people looked like, how they behaved, the layout of their palaces, and a thousand other details. I had to interweave my stories around their travels and their politics.

I was probably mad to start on this, but once I had, I was truly hooked. I read books, and memoirs, and letters. I studied maps of St. Petersburg and Vienna dating from 1810-1820. They didn’t tell me enough, so I arranged to visit both cities so that I could get the feel of the atmosphere and the grandeur. The sort of thing you can see in this picture of St. Petersburg.

I worked out detailed daily timelines for where each of the historical characters was during the year from summer 1814 to the Battle of Waterloo in 1815, and I discovered that historical characters are remarkably contrary; they’re rarely where a romance writer needs them to be for the sake of her story. What’s more, the sources often disagree about key dates.

But historical sources also produce “Eureka!” moments. When I was working on the second book, His Reluctant Mistress, which is set at the Congress of Vienna, I had no idea how I was going to end it. First, the diary of a minor civil servant produced a reference to Beethoven’s Fidelio, which provided an essential hook for my plot, since my heroine, the “Venetian Nightingale,” has the finest singing voice in Europe. Then the Gentleman’s Magazine came to my rescue again. In an edition dating from early 1815, I found a wonderful historical incident that was exactly what I needed for Leo and Sophie.

It happened in the beautiful palace of Schonbrunn, which you can see here. I won’t tell you what it is, though, since I don’t want to spoil the story! I discovered later that modern historians reckon the incident never actually happened. They may be right, but it was too good to miss. I used it anyway!

I said at the beginning of this blog that my trilogy was based on 3 happy accidents. Here’s the third: Some years ago I spent a long weekend in Lyons, the centre of the French silk-weaving incident. It was cold and wet most of the time, but I’d have visited the indoor exhibitions anyway. Two things really grabbed me. The Lyons silk museum, full of background detail on the silk industry and amazing examples of the silk weavers’ art; and a real-life demonstration of silk making on a hand loom, in a workshop in the oldest part of Lyons.

The weaver was making a glorious dusky pink velvet shot through with real gold thread. It was destined for one of the Paris couture houses, though he wouldn’t tell me which one. I could see the process was elaborate and painstaking, but I was astonished to learn that it took 3 days to weave just one metre of this sumptuous cloth. No wonder Paris couture costs a fortune! The weaving image stayed with me. I knew I’d have to use it in a book someday. Also the medieval part of Lyons is stunningly atmospheric and would make a wonderful setting for a novel. But I had no idea then how I would use it. I knew it would pop up again when I was ready for it.

And it did! In the third book, His Forbidden Liaison, the Duke of Wellington sends Jack and his friend Ben Dexter on a spying mission to France early in 1815. They’re caught up in the 100 Days, following Napoleon’s escape from Elba. Napoleon’s route to Paris will take him to Lyons, so my heroes must go there, too. They wouldn’t make it without help from Marguerite Grollier, who is–surprise!–a silk weaver from Lyons with many secrets of her own.

In case you’re wondering, Ben isn’t left out. He, too, discovers what it is to be wrapped in the silk weaver’s web–not by Marguerite, but by her sister Suzanne. Their story will be an “Undone”e-story in July, His Silken Seduction.

So you see that for a historical romance author, research is a pleasure that is never wasted!

For more information on Joanna and the Aikenhead Trilogy, visit her website!

So, last weekend was a busy one. I had proposals to write and revisions to tackle. And, since I am crazy, I helped a friend supervise her 11-year-old’s slumber party on Friday. When I was a kid, I never understood when people would sigh and say, “Oh, I wish I had energy like that!” Now I totally do. There was running, shrieking, trampoline-jumping, gossiping (MUCH gossiping), lipstick-trying, Wii-playing. And, when my friend and I needed quiet, there was Twilight DVD watching. The whole movie, then rewatching various scenes. It’s a hard job to gawk at Robert Pattinson for hours, but I am a good friend and did it for the kids. Uh-huh.

Then Sunday, there was Easter candy-eating, family-visiting, and one of my dogs eating purloined boiled egg yolks and getting sick at my parents’ house. No wonder Sunday night I felt a bit under the weather. So I took a break, and had a “lie on the couch watching weird movies only Amanda would like” evening. I ended up with a French movie I just got from Netflix, Eric Rohmer’s newest (and last, according the 88-year-old director), The Romance of Astrea and Celadon. One of the reviews I found online said “You’ve got to ride with this movie the whole way, or give it a pass.” Which is so true–I just let it carry me where it would, and it turned into a lovely, weird, eccentric, baffling, charming ride.

Astrea and Celadon is from a romance by 17th century French aristocrat/writer Honore d’Urfe, and is very much in the pastoral As You Like It vein, set in a 17th century French idea of 5th century pastoral Gaul. It’s very Renaissance-y in its storytelling. The plot (such as it is) concerns the impossibly beautiful shepherd Celadon and his lover, the impossibly beautiful shepherdess Astrea (almost everyone in this movie is impossibly beautiful, and they never herd sheep. In fact, I never saw a sheep the whole film). Early on they quarrel because A. thinks C. kisses another girl. She won’t listen to his explanations, forbids him to be in her sight, and he goes off to drown himself. A. discovers she was wrong, it’s too late, there’s much weeping.

But lo, C. is not dead! He is rescued by 3 beautiful nymphs, one of which falls madly in love with him (almost everyone in the film falls madly in love with C., but he loves only A.). She tries to keep him prisoner in her chateau, but one of the other nymphs helps him escape. Now–how to get around his vow never to be in A.’s sight?

There is a lot of talk about the nature of love, a little light proto-Christian theology, some Ren-faire style musical numbers, C. disguising himself as a woman (twice!), and lots of gorgeous, sunny scenery.

Anyway, my point (besides the fact that if you love oddball French movies, as I do, you should give this one a try) is this. That review also said, “If there had been movies 400 years ago…this is pretty much what they’d have looked like.” I found that a fascinating thought. Sure, it might not have been a movie to play well with the groundlings–there’s no blood or gore at all, and not a funny “bit with a dog” (though there are a few moments of semi-bawdy goofiness and some brief nudity). But I could see courtier-poets going crazy for it, debating its philosophical points about the Nature of Love.

What would a Regency movie have looked like? Like one of the Pride and Prejudice movies, or something else? What about a Georgian or Medieval movie? What do you think? (And have you seen any good movies lately??)

A quick note–I’m out of town this week, at a yoga retreat in the middle-of-the-mountains, New Mexico. I’m hoping to recharge my creativity, work on revisions for Irish Book One (and tone my abs while I’m at it!), but Internet access there is iffy. I’ll try and stop by this evening! And don’t forget–yesterday was Hottie Monday on my own blog (here), where I share my latest obsessions (I’m afraid I’m not faithful, as Diane is to Gerard!). This feature has cheered my Mondays to no end, so I’d like to keep going with it! But I need some hottie suggestions–who would you like to see there next? (I think I could also do historical hottie Mondays–Wellington, Byron, etc…)

And now to the main feature of the day! Catherine the Great, who was born on this day in 1729. I’ve always been fascinated by her. How did a young princess from a tiny German principality, bullied by her crazy husband and overbearing aunt-in-law, ever find the chutzpah to take over a whole country, and rule it for decades? And do it entirely on her own terms? (I also love the story of how noble families wanting to get ahead would spend fortunes dressing up their handsome young sons in hopes they’d catch Catherine’s eye! You hear that all the time with kings–Henry VIII, Louis XV–not so much with queens).

Catherine was born Sophia Augusta Frederica to the Prince of Anhalt-Zerbst and his ambitious wife, Johanna Elisabeth of Holstein-Gottorp (no wonder there aren’t many German-set romances–all those hyphenated names to remember!). Empress Elizabeth of Russia, wanting to strengthen Russia-Prussia ties against Austria (and who had once almost married Johanna’s brother, before he died of smallpox) arranged the marriage with her nephew and heir Peter. Sophie wed him at the age of 16, and the young couple went to live at the palace of Oranienbaum.

The marriage was not a success. Peter was, er, a bit odd, preferring to play with toy soldiers and set up fake battles (and cavort with unattractive mistresses) than spend time with his young wife. Not that Catherine minded–she made her own friends, read extensively, kept up-to-date on current events and politics, and bided her time.

That time came after Elizabeth’s death in January 1762. Peter was a predictably bad tsar, and lost the support of the nobility after an ill-advised alliance with Frederick II of Prussia, right after the end of the Seven Years War (where Prussia was the enemy). In July 1762, Peter retired back to Oranienbaum with his favorite German-born courtiers, leaving his wife in St. Petersburg. On July 13-14, the elite Leib Guard revolted, deposing Peter and proclaiming Catherine the ruler of Russia. (didn’t hurt that her current lover, Grigori Orlov, and his brothers belonged to the Guard). 3 days later, Peter died, reportedly at the hands of one of the Orlov brothers.

Catherine, although not descended from any Russian tsar, succeeded her husband as Empress. At first, some thought she should serve only as Regent for her infant son, Paul (and there was a fledgling coup to that end in 1770, quickly squashed). But Catherine reigned until her death.

This post could be pages long, of course! We could talk about foreign relations (Catherine expanded Russia’s borders considerably during her reign, and set up a powerful Northern League of Russia, Prussia, Poland, and Sweden to balance the Bourbon-Habsburg League, among many other things). Wars, relations with Western Europe (she served as a sort of international mediator in foreign wars), the partition of Poland (when she put one of her former lovers on the Polish throne), and her reputation for being a champion of art and culture. The Hermitage Museum began as her personal collection. She wrote a manual for the education of young children (along with comedies, fiction, and memoirs), founded the Smolny Institute for young ladies, and corresponded with Voltaire, Diderot, and Alembert (among many others).

And there was her personal life. She was well-known for taking many lovers, often elevating them to high position as long as they held her interest, and then pensioning them off with gifts and estates. Some were men of great intelligence and political savvy who helped her in her work; some merely boy toys. She was never one to deny that, when it comes to romance, it’s good to be the queen.

She died after suffering a stroke on November 16, 1796 (not, as oft-repeated, after a failed attempt at intercourse with a horse!)

A great source is Virginia Rounding’s Catherine the Great: Love, Sex, and Power, and Henri Troyat’s Catherine the Great and Terrible Tsarinas.

Happy Birthday, Catherine! Who are some of your favorite historical heroines? Any Hottie Monday suggestions???