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Monthly Archives: April 2013

400px-MG-Paris-Aphrodite_of_MilosToday marks the 193rd anniversary of the discovery of the Venus de Milo on the Aegean island of Melos. In 1820 Melos was under the rule of the Ottoman Turks.

The famous statue, broken into several pieces, was discovered by a farmer who’d been removing stones from and ancient wall. He showed his discovery to two French ensigns whose ships were in port. One of the ensigns, Jules Dumont d’Urville, later told the Comte de Marcellus, secretary to the Marquis de Rivière, the French ambassador in Constantinople, who convinced the ambassador that he should purchase the statue and present it as a gift to restored King Louis XVIII.

Marcellus traveled to Melos only to discover that the statue had been sold to a provincial pasha but the local officials were convinced that France had the earlier claim. Marcellus paid the officials 250 francs and the farmer, 750. The Turks also fined the officials for not holding the statue for the French, but Rivière reimbursed them in return for a quittance so that the claim on the statue could not be disputed. (Although it later was disputed by the Germans who claimed they owned the land upon which it was discovered. That dispute continued into the twentieth century)

The Venus de Milo arrived in Paris and was presented to the king in March, 1821, although he was too obese to see it and did not see it for another year. Its restoration was under the supervision of the Comte de Forbin who had been named director of the Louvre in 1816. The Venus de Milo became a source of pride for France, a worthy rival to the British Museum’s acquisition of the Elgin Marbles and some compensation for the loss of the Apollo Belvedere and the Venus de’ Medici, both returned to Italy after Napoleon’s defeat.

More controversy ensued as to the age of the statue. Was it a masterpiece of the Classical Age or an example from the later, less prestigious Hellenistic period? The latter won out eventually and the Louvre dates the statue from around 120 BC.

Another dilemma was whether the arms should be restored. All that was discovered of the arms was a fragment of a hand holding an apple. Ultimately Forbin decided not to restore the arms.

800px-Jacques-Louis_David_016The Comte de Forbin led a rather exciting life. An artist, in the early 1800s he was the lover of Napoleon’s sister, Pauline. When she tired of him, he was sent to war, distinguishing himself in battle
VenusVictrixand winning a Legion of Honor. He also had an affair with Madame Récamier. Both women are immortalized in the Louvre. Pauline in a statue of by Canova; Récamier in a portrait by David.

Jules Dumont d’Urville, one of the ensigns who was originally shown the Venus, rose to become a rear admiral and a renowned French explorer, botanist and cartographer. He explored the Pacific, Australia, New Zealand and Antarctica. He is mentioned by Jules Verne in 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. Dumont d’Urville and his whole family died in the flames of the Versailles train crash, France’s first railway disaster.

Have you seen the Venus de Milo? What is your favorite statue, ancient or not?

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Hero-of-My-Heart-by-Megan-Frampton225x329My historical, Hero of My Heart, will be released Monday, and it has a different kind of hero–in that he is not heroic at all, not when we first meet him. In fact, he is a Marquess who does not wish to have his title, nor even be alive. Here’s the blurb:

When Mary Smith’s corrupt, debt-ridden brother drags her to a seedy pub to sell her virtue to the highest bidder, Alasdair Thornham leaps to the rescue. Of course the marquess is far from perfect husband material. Although he is exceedingly handsome, with a perfect, strong body, chiseled jaw, and piercing green eyes, Alasdair is also too fond of opium, preferring delirium to reality. Still, he has come to Mary’s aid, and now she intends to return the favor. She will show him that he is not evil, just troubled.

Mary was a damsel in need of a hero, but Alasdair’s plan is shortsighted. He never foresaw her desire to save him from himself. Alasdair is quite at home in his private torment, until this angel proves that a heart still beats in his broken soul. The devil may have kept her from hell, but will Mary’s good intentions lead them back to the brink—or to heaven in each other’s arms?

Alasdair is as close to an anti-hero as I could write, and I chose to write him that way because like so many romance readers, I believe that love and compassion can help a person find their way back to happiness. I was fascinated by the idea of a man at the absolute brink of dissolution needing to claw his way back to reality, and I gave him a reason–Mary’s salvation–to do it. Eventually, he replaces his opium addiction with Mary’s sexual healing, but that isn’t enough to absolutely save him. It is only when he is able to give both Mary’s presence and opium up that he is deserving of his own Happy Ever After–and deserving of Mary.

In writing this, I was inspired by Edith Layton’s The Devil’s Bargain (and snagged her hero’s name for mine!), because her hero is tortured by the past, just like my Alasdair, even if he doesn’t end up an opium addict. Of course there have been historicals where the hero is addicted–most memorable is Jo Beverley’s To Rescue a Rogue and of course Mary Jo Putney’s The Rake‘s hero is an alcoholic.

I also wanted to write a classic road story–in fact, the original title of the book was Road to Passion, which a few people pointed out sounded like a Bob Hope movie, which was not the intent, so I changed it. My hero and heroine are together almost through the entire course of the book, are forced together through circumstances and can’t run away from their problems–like Alasdair was trying to do.

All of this makes it sound as though Alasdair and Mary are all Dark and Serious during the course of the book, but both of them have good senses of humor and Mary, in particular, does not hesitate to take Alasdair down a notch or two (and he is highly-notched, let me tell you!).

Do you like books with very difficult heroes? Which are your favorites?

Megan

Posted in Risky Book Talk, Writing | Tagged | 4 Replies

Cartes_postales_poissons_d'avril_-_1What is the origin of April Fools Day?

No one knows for sure, but it is speculated that it came about when the French calendar was reformed in the sixteenth century, moving the start of the year from March to January 1. Some people who clung to the old calendar and continued to celebrate the New Year from March 25 to April 1, had tricks played on them. The pranksters would stick paper fish on their backs. Thus they were called Poisson d’Avril, ‘April Fish,’ the name the French call April Fools even today.

April fools jokes have continued through the years. Near “our” time period a clever one was pulled off.

Washing_of_the_LionsIn 1860 a postcard was sent to several people admitting two to the Tower of London to view the annual ceremony of washing the White Lions on April 1. The invitees were instructed that they would be admitted only at the White Gate.

On April 1, several cabs were driving around Tower Hill looking for the White Gate—which, of course, didn’t exist.

April Fool!!

What was the best April Fools joke you played on someone or one someone played on you?

 

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Okay,  not death.  But let’s talk about taxes since most of us  in the U.S. are getting pretty near the deadline for submitting our annual tax returns.

While we’re never happy about paying taxes, I thought it might be a good time to think about the taxes we’re not paying that our heroes and heroines probably faced during the Regency.

window-taxOne of the most widely known taxes during our period was the window tax. The window tax was introduced in 1691  and lasted until 1851.  That’s a lot of windows.   The tax was imposed upon every inhabited dwelling house in England (and Wales),  except cottages. That is,  houses not paying to church and poor rates in a parish.  By 1792, the rates ran from 6 shillings and 6 pence for houses with six windows or less to houses with 180 windows or more for which the charge was 93 pounds 2 shillings and 6 pence, with 3 shillings charged for every window over that number.  As you might imagine, this led to a lot of bricked-up windows.

Another interesting tax – and one we don’t have to worry about – is g14powderthe tax on hair powder, introduced in 1795.  After May 5 of that year, very person in Great Britain using hair-powder was required to enter his name at one of the stamp offices and to take out an annual certificate which proved he had paid the tax of one guinea (One pound plus one shilling).  exemptions to the tax included the royal family and their servants; clergymen with an income under £100 a year, officers in the navy under the rank of commander, subalterns, non-commissioned officers, and privates in the army, artillery, militia, marines, engineers, and fencibles.  Exemptions were also made for families with large number of ladies. A father with two or more unmarried daughters could obtain a certificate for any numbers of hair-powder users in his household, provided he paid for the use of the powder by two people.  The government hoped that the tax would raise a revenue of £200,000 per year.  Instead, people stopped powdering their hair and, in the first year, it raised only £210.136.

sidesaddle1The tax on “establishments of horses ” was introduced in 1784. It exempted, at first, horses used for agricultural purposes and was imposed only upon  “pleasure horses kept for amusement.” For every horse kept and used “for the saddle” or for “driving in a carriage” (which again, another taxable item) a tax of 10 shillings per year was levied.   1805 the taxation had been increased considerably. For one horse kept for pleasure the tax imposed was 2 pounds 17 shillings and 6 pence. For two horses, 4 pounds,14 shillings and 6 pence (that is 9 pounds 9 shillings for two), and so on along a sliding scale to an establishment of 20 or more horses where a tax of 6 pounds and 12 shillings was charged for every saddle or carriage horse.  The result of this was not that people stopped keeping pleasure horses but that, frequently, they rode horses meant for agricultural purposes.  See, for example, Mrs. Bennet co-opting Mr. Bennet’s farm horse to send Jane to Netherfield in the rain in Pride & Prejudice.

running_footmanIn 1777,  an annual tax of a guinea per man was imposed on male servants.  According to Pamela Horne in The Complete Servant, “Although originally intended to help finance the war of American Independence, it was retained in modified form until 1937. In addition between 1795 and 1869 a tax on hair powder was levied and this, too, added to the cost of employing footmen and coachmen in full regalia.”

These are just a sample of the taxes in existence during our period.  You might also like to investigate the tax on the home consumption of pepper. Or how about raisins?  Or the tax levied from 1784 to 1811 on men’s hats.  Pitt the Younger seemed to be the driving force behind many of the more interesting taxes.

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