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Ladies at Work

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Last week, I started a new job. I think it will be all right, but right now I’m completely stressed out, trying to learn new computer databases, new procedures, and still find time to write at home! By coincidence, I’ve also been reading a book titled “Ladies-in-Waiting: From the Tudors to the Present Day” by Anne Somerset, detailing one of the few careers open to women (upper-class women, anyway) during the Regency–royal service.

Chapter Eight concerns the “Later Hanoverian Court”. In the summer of 1761, it was announced that the new king, George III, would marry his cousin Princess Charlotte of Mecklenburg-Strelitz. The king’s mentor, Lord Bute, was immediately bombarded with requests for places in her household for wives and daughters. On July 23, Horace Walpole wrote to Sir Horace Mann, “The new Queen’s family consists of…the Duchess of Ancaster, Mistress of the Robes and first lady of the Bedchamber; the others are the Duchess of Hamilton, Lady Effingham, Lady Northumberland, Lady Weymouth, and Lady Bolingbroke” (he missed one addition, Lady Egremont). The Countess of Dalkeith had angrily turned down a position when she heard she would have to work with the Duchess of Hamilton, who had been one of the famous Gunning sisters. The Duchess of Bedford was also insulted–she was left off the list altogether. The husbands of both these ladies soon went into Opposition. Coincidence? I think not. 🙂

Princess Charlotte herself had hoped to bring with her a large retinue from her own country, as royal brides had in the past (Catherine of Aragon, for example, brought many Spanish retainers with her when she married Prince Arthur Tudor). But the king decreed “the utmost she can bring is one or two femmes de chambre whom I own I hope will be quiet people, for by my own experience I have seen these women meddle more than they ought to do.” So, Charlotte brought two German ladies, Johanna Haggerdorn and Juliana Schwellenborg, who served as joint Keepers of the Robes. Haggerdorn proved to be ” a placid amiable ladylike woman”, but Schwellenborg was a different kettle of fish. In 1765, the king, irritated by her intrusiveness and arrogance, was only dissuaded from sending her home by the persistent entreaties of his wife! Among the other ladies she was seen as a petty tyrant. Novelist Fanny Burney, Haggerdorn’s successor, wrote that S. was “noxious and persecuting.” The Queen, however, adored her, calling her a “faithful and truly devoted…servant.”

Perhaps one reason for the queen’s dependence on S. was the fact that she was never really at ease with her sophisticated English ladies (and not encouraged to develop close friendships by her possessive husband!). The Duchess of Ancaster stayed at her post until her death, but in 1784 the queen fell out with the Duchess of Arrgyll (formerly Hamilton), who was flirtatious and unpunctual, as well as the mother of a scandalous daughter. The Countess of Northumberland (a “vulgar woman” who liked “show and crowds and junketing”) left way back in 1770. And Lady Bolingbroke had to leave when she and her husband divorced. I can’t imagine these ladies partiuclarly mourned leaving court (except for the chances for family advancement and prestige), as the king and queen were known to be deadly dull (until the king went crazy, that is!).

There are so many interesting things to say on this topic, I may have to continue next week! In the meantime, how do you think YOU would have fared as lady-in-waiting?

Scones

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I’m celebrating St. Patrick’s Day a bit late–like today. I feel the same way about it as I do Valentine’s Day. Much of it very tacky. I am not into green food coloring in my beer, will take the genuine Guinness instead, thank you very much. Also, my own heritage is Lithuanian (more people who drink a lot and sing sad songs), so I don’t particularly feel the need to BE Irish for a day.

But there are some things I enjoy around this time. Celtic music: I put on my CDs of Loreena McKennitt, the Boys of the Lough, and others. Later today I’m going to a Celtic Songfest by the Binghamton Madrigal Choir. Meanwhile, my husband is going to make corned beef and cabbage. And I’m baking scones.

Here’s the recipe I used last year, and it worked well. Hope they turn out as well this time!

IRISH SCONES

3 cups white flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
2 tsp cream of tartar
1/2 cup butter, softened
2 TBSP sugar
3/4 cup milk
1 cup raisins and/or other dried fruit
1 egg

1. Preheat oven to 400 deg. Lightly butter two large cookie sheets.
2. In a large bowl, sift together flour, baking soda, cream of tartar and sugar. Add butter and mix well.
3. Stir in milk. (Dough is heavy.)
4. Mix in raisins (use hands if necessary).
5. Press dough on a floured surface and roll out gently to 1/2 inch thickness. Cut scones into round shapes or triangles.
6. Beat the egg, brush scones with egg wash for shine.
7. Bake 15-20 minutes or until golden brown.

Elena
LADY DEARING’S MASQUERADE
http://www.elenagreene.com/

Writing and Worrying

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A writer is a person for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people.Thomas Mann, German writer (1875 – 1955)

I can’t do this. I can. No, I really can’t. This is terrible. Why am I wasting my time? Why can’t I be as good as [insert fantastic author here].

Yeah, welcome to the inside of my head. I’ve been working on a second Regency-set historical, and it is about 2/3rds of the way done. But–and this is a big but–I’m not sure if it’s good. I’ve got a lot of ends to tie up, some to undo in the first place still, and I worry I’m just writing loads of words where nothing happens.

My case is not unusual. In fact, I doubt if there are any authors out there who haven’t had the same derisive little voices lodged inside their heads (well, all except Barbara Cartland, who apparently thought she was all that and a side of fries). So–given that giving up is not an option, how do we rise above (which, of course, reminds me of hardcore band Black Flag‘s song “Rise Above,” which is an anthemic triumph. But I digress–a natural problem when one is beset by insecurities.

A scrupulous writer, in every sentence that he writes, will ask himself at least four questions, thus: 1. What am I trying to say? 2. What words will express it? 3. What image or idiom will make it clearer? 4. Is this image fresh enough to have an effect?
George Orwell, “Politics and the English Language”, 1946, English essayist, novelist, & satirist (1903 – 1950)

Last week, I printed my whole manuscript out and read it over with a pen and some post-its in hand. I edited, wrote down themes and plot points I needed to bring in and/or flesh out, and this week I’ve been incorporating the smaller edits and am getting prepared to dive in for the bigger stuff. But what if it still stinks?

Keep writing. Keep doing it and doing it. Even in the moments when it’s so hurtful to think about writing.Heather Armstrong, Keynote Speech, SXSW 2006

My mind has been chasing itself in circles, nutty dog style. Can I assemble a plotting group? Should I revisit the synopsis and try to nail down my story? Do I just plunge back in and start writing again and see where the story takes me (“. . . to Stinkyville,” my mind answers. Shut up, mind!).

You must keep sending work out; you must never let a manuscript do nothing but eat its head off in a drawer. You send that work out again and again, while you’re working on another one. If you have talent, you will receive some measure of success – but only if you persist.
Isaac Asimov, US science fiction novelist & scholar (1920 – 1992)

Stay tuned. I guess if I were secure, I’d be content with my stinky story, and wonder why my readers (if, indeed, this manuscript reaches the point of publication) didn’t like it as much as I did.

We do not write because we want to; we write because we have to.
W. Somerset Maugham, English dramatist & novelist (1874 – 1965)

And now–back to the work-in-progress.

Megan

www.meganframpton.com

A Night at the Opera

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I do big chunks of writing on Saturday afternoons. That’s when the Metropolitan Opera broadcasts live, and I find it interesting that opera, or the human voice, helps me write. Most of the music I listen to when I write is vocal, for reasons I can’t quite fathom–sure, opera has all that passion and over-the-top emotion, and it’s all about love, jealousy, revenge, murder, and dying twice in a sack.

I find, too, that real, hardcore opera fans are rather like trad regency fans in their enthusiasm and encyclopaedic knowledge. Just listen to the half-time, sorry, intermission quiz at the Met, where a panel of experts answer opera trivia questions.

So what was a visit to the opera like in the regency period? First, you got value for money. An evening at the opera was l-o-n-g, though not in the sense of Ring Cycle long. It wasn’t entirely about the music, although people cared passionately about particular singers and might pause in their card-playing, drinking, or socializing to listen to a popular aria. Then as now, operas featured fabulous costumes and great sets and stage effects.

The major London theater for opera was The King’s Theatre, Haymarket, renamed Her Majesty’s Theatre (its current name) in 1837 when Victoria came to the throne. Like most historic London theaters, it burned down regularly during its history, and the Regency-era version, the second on the site, opened in 1791. It was the venue for the London premiers of many of Mozart’s operas.


A popular star was Giuseppe Naldi, seen here as Figaro in The Marriage of Figaro, which made its London debut in 1812 (although the opera had had an amateur performance in 1810 and its tunes were already well known–the Coldstream Guards had adopted Non piu andrai, one of the opera’s greatest hits, as its slow march in 1787). Naldi, not apparently a terrific singer but popular for his acting and warm personality, was something of a Mozart comic specialist, appearing as Leporello in Don Giovanni (which debuted at the King’s Theatre in 1816) and Papageno in The Magic Flute.


Sadly the King’s Theatre burned down again in 1867, but the Royal Opera Arcade, built behind the theater by John Nash and George Reston in 1816-1818 still survives.

But back to my original topic. What do you like to listen to when you write, or read? Do you have books you associate with particular music? Favorite London theaters, operas, great performances…?

 

 

 

How far can a heroine go?

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First, a quick apology for the inherent bias in this question. It’s so unfair, yet I’ve noticed that readers who complained about too much sex in my books always castigated the heroine. “Ladies didn’t do that during the Regency” was a comment was directed at a heroine who dared have sex with her husband.

OK, I won’t debate that one 🙂 but these readers have a point, skewed as it is. Historically, women paid the highest consequences for sex, biological and social.

I love SEX AND THE CITY. In all the sexual exploration the four main characters go through, they are searching for something, even if they’re not sure what it is. And when they find it, it’s LOVE. BUT I think it’s dodgy to translate their attitudes to women of the early 19th century. Not that they didn’t have sex–and sometimes outside the rules–and sometimes enjoying it! 🙂 But they were living and loving in a different world, with different stakes.

I admit to having trouble with the Regency heroine who experiments with sex lightly. With the heroine who keeps insisting to herself and everyone else that the hero is a loathesome jerk and the last man on earth she’d ever marry, yet repeatedly has sex with him without ever worrying about social disgrace or pregnancy or destroying her sisters’ chances of making good marriages. Such heroines usually strike me as some combination of needy, confused, selfish or just TSTL.

Yet I love so many sexy Regency era romances.

Things that mitigate the “Lydia Bennet” factor: marriage of convenience, no reputation to lose, supposed infertility (though possibly reversible!), birth control (some forms existed, but it has to make sense that the characters would know about and use it). And emotional commitment.

There’s also this mysterious thing: “heat of the moment”. Sometimes it works for me, sometimes it doesn’t. I’ve written this whole post and I’m still not sure how some authors make me feel that it really is the right moment for the characters to go at it, and why sometimes it just feels too early. Is it just incredibly sensual writing? Or deep enough characterisation that I feel the love even if the characters aren’t fully aware of it?

Maybe part of it is that I want some buildup.

What do you think? When has a heroine gone over from being human and vulnerable to TSTL in matters of sex? What makes “heat of the moment” work, or not? Which authors do you think handle this the best?

Elena
LADY DEARING’S MASQUERADE
www.elenagreene.com