Author Archives: Myretta

About Myretta

Myretta is a founder and current manager of The Republic of Pemberley, a major Jane Austen destination on the web. She is also a writer of Historical Romance. You can find her at her website, www.myrettarobens.com and on Twitter @Myretta.

London Squares

Updated on April 19, 2014 by Myretta

Today’s visit to my library involves a new acquisition. Historic Streets and Squares by Melanie Backe-Hansen. This lovely and detailed book covers a variety of streets and square ranging from Scotland and the North of England, through the Midlands and South-West England, East Anglia, and Southern England to Wales and Ireland, with special attention paid to London. Today, I’d like to look at two of the London squares that will probably be familiar to most of you. The quotes and most of the illustrations are from the book.

Bedford Square from Horwood’s 1799 Map

Bedford Square is unique as it was not only planned as in imposed uniform square, but it is the only Georgian square to survive in almost its complete original form. Built in 1775-83, it was the inspiration of John Russell, the 4th Duke of Bedford, who wanted to replicate the style and imposing design of the Circus in Bath. The initial plans for a circus, evolved into a square.

Doorway – 25 Bedford Square

Bedford Square is commonly accepted as the most complete and best preserved of all London’s Georgian Squares and was one of the first squares in London to impose an architectural uniformity around a central garden square. Bedford Square is architecturally significant because followed directly after the 1774 London Buildings Act, which regulated building construction. Eached terraced row appears as a complete palace-fronted facade, with stucco pedimented centres.

Hanover Square 1754

Moving along, let’s take a quick look at Hanover Square. Hanover Square and the accompanying George Street date back to 1713 when Richard Lumley, 1st Earl of Scarborough, signed a conveyance of 2 acres of freehold land. The land originally belonged to Lord Harley, who married Lady Henrietta Cavendish Holles, heiress of John, Duke of Newcastle, who inherited the Marylebone estate. (Got that?) The lease with Scarborough covered an area south from today’s Oxford Street, encompassing the central square, along with two roads leading into from the east, two from the west, and one on the north, and the wider George Street on the south. Hanover Square was the first square in Mayfair, laid out from 1717 to 1719. Sir John Summerson called it the foundation stone of Mayfair.”

St. George’s Hanover Square

Although not technically within Hanover Square, St. George’s Church (of Regency Romance renown) was a vital part of the layout. It was built by John James as part of the “Commission for Building Fifty New Churches,” which was put in place by Act of Parliament in 1711 during the reign of Queen Anne. It was completed in 1724. St. George’s Hanover Square was the main parish church for Mayfair, so it was often the location for high-society weddings, a well as a few notorious ones.

I do recommend the book for lots of great detail on a quite a few historical squares. It’s a nice way to visit the past and fire the imagination. Do you have some favorite ways to do that?

Posted in Regency, Research | 3 Replies

Ladies of Ill-Repute

Updated on April 12, 2014 by Myretta

The Milk Sop – Thomas Rowlandson

Moving along in my library, we leave last week’s Toilet of Flora, and move to my Georgian sex shelf. On this shelf, we find the entertaining (and yet distressing) Harris’s List of Covent-Garden Ladies. Like last week’s book, this is also now available to you in Google Books. The one I’ve linked to is for 1789, but you’ll be able to extrapolate to a later date.

Harris’s list is sort of a Zagat’s guide to ladies of the evening. It was not, however, written by Jack Harris, but by one Sam Derrick, based on Jack Harris’s list. Mr Derrick apparently reached some sort of agreement for use of the list, and provided comprehensive descriptions of Mr. Harris’s ladies and where to find them. Shall we look at a few?

Picking Cheerful – Thomas Rowlandson

The book opens with Miss D-vis, No. 22 Upper Newman-street. This is a fine lively girl, about twenty-one, rather above the middle size, genteelly made; has several good friends, but is much attached to young Br-om, the lottery-office-keeper, who is now in prison, where she often visits him; is ever obliging, and seldom out of humour, understands a great deal of her business, and never fails to please.

In No. 82, Queen Ann-street, we find Mrs. D-nby, who has found a neat way to make a little additional money by wearing her clients out and renting them a room for the night.

A fine plump lady, twenty-four years old, rather short with sandy colour hair, fine blue eyes, rather of an amorous constitution; when in the arms of an equally lewd partner, she never wishes to fall in the arms of sleep, whilst Venus holds her court, Morpheus is kicked out of doors, as she keeps the house, any gentleman may have a night’s lodging for one pound one shilling, and half the money if he can do the business well.

Mrs. D-l-v-t of No. 46 Hanover-street is apparently on hiatus but is thinking about returning to the business:

And Inclined Beauty – Thomas Rowlandson

This lady is about thirty, she was bread a milliner, and married very young an attorney’s clerk, but as his income was not sufficient to support her in the manner she wished to live, she listened to the addresses of an American gentleman who made her a handsome allowance whilst he remained in England, and took some pains to persuade her to accompany him in his present visit to that quarter of the world, but she preferred old to new England. She is at present a housekeeper, but soon intends to quit her situation and retire to snug lodging as she has experimentally found that the frail sisterhood are vary bad pay mistresses.

We further learn that she has kept her looks and wields a “birchen rod” with dexterity (in case your taste runs in that direction). We also learn that she never never condescends to grant her favors for less than a guinea.

Let’s finish with Sally Cummins, Charles Street, Westminster who is a bluish eyed comely lass, but too much indebted to art for her complexion. She talks French, and sings agreeably, and in her cups is very religious, when you should find her to be a most bigoted Papist. She sounds like fun, doesn’t she?

So, I leave you with another book to look into. Mr. Derrick has quite a way with words and one doesn’t know how much of this to take at face value. We do know, however, that it was based on Mr. Harris’s list, which was quite probably what it purported to be. I also leave you with some illustrations by Thomas Rowlandson, who seems best fitted for this topic.

Posted in Frivolity, Research | 7 Replies

The Toilet of Flora

Updated on April 4, 2014 by Myretta

The Toilet of Flora

The Toilet of Flora is “a collection of the most simple and approved methods of preparing baths, essences, pomatums, powders, perfumes, and sweet-scented water with receipts for cosmetics of every kind, that can smooth and brighten the skin, give force to beauty, and take off the appearance of old age and decay.” published originally in 1779.

I thought it would be fun to take a look at a few of the receipts provided therein so that we may, god forbid, take off the appearance of old age and decay.

Let’s start with a remedy for Corns on the Feet (as you do). Roast a Clove of Garlic, or an Onion, on a live coal or in hot ashes; apply it to the corn, and fasten it on with a piece of cloth. This softens the corn to such a degree, as to loosen and wholly remove remove it in two or three days.

How about A Coral Stick for the Teeth? Make a stiff paste with Tooth Powder and a sufficient quantity of Mucilage of Gum Tragacanth: form with this Paste little cylindrical Rollers, the thickness of a large goose quill, and about three inches in length. Dry them in the shade. The method of using this stick is to rub it against the teeth, which becomes cleaner in proportion as it wastes.

Maybe you’d like you’re worried about your child having excess hair on his forehead. Try A Simple Depilatory. All you need is Oil of Walnuts frequently rubbed on a child’s forehead to prevent the hair from growing on that part.

If you have a hankering to Change your Eyebrows black, First wash your eyebrows with a decoction of Gallo Nuts; then wet them with a pencil or a little brush dipped in a solution of Green Vitriol, in which a little Gum Arabic has been dissolved, and when dry, they will appear of a beautiful black colour.

And I leave you with a remedy for that ever-troubling problem, Moist Feet: Take twenty pounds of Lee made of the Ashes of the Bay Tree, three handfuls of Bay Leaves, a handful of Sweet Flag, with the same quantity of Calamus Aromaticus, and Dittany of Crete; boil the whole together for some time, then strain off the liquor, and add two quarts of Wine. Steep your feet in this bath an hour every day, and in a short time they will no longer exhale a disagreeable smell.

You’re on your own to find sources of Calamus Aromaticus and Dittany of Crete. Let me know how you do.

Do take a look at Toilet of Flora. It’s all there on Google Books. Yes, most of these receipts are hilarious from where we sit, but some of them might be useful, if not for moist feet, then for authorial purposes. Enjoy.

Posted in Risky Regencies | 9 Replies

A Story You Should Write

Updated on March 13, 2014 by Myretta

Carlton House

In 1815, Jane Austen was invited by James Stanier Clarke, librarian to the Prince Regent (apparently a fan), to visit Carlton House. One doesn’t say no to the Prince Regent, not to a visit to Carlton House and not to an invitation to dedicate one of her books to him. Jane Austen was not an admirer of Prinny, but she dedicated Emma to him because, what else was she to do?

Dedication of Emma

Following her visit to Carlton House, Jane Austen wrote to Mr. Clarke, verifying that the Prince Regent did, indeed want her to dedicate a book to him. What followed was a correspondence between Jane Austen and James Stanier Clarke that I can only imagine she grew to regret.

In answering her letter regarding the dedication, he felt obliged to include the following paragraphs

Accept my best thanks for the pleasure your volumes have given me. In the perusal of them I felt a great inclination to write and say so. And I also, dear Madam, wished to be allowed to ask you to delineate in some future work the habits of life, and character, and enthusiasm of a clergyman, who should pass his time between the metropolis and the country, who should be something like Beattie’s Minstrel —

Silent when glad, affectionate tho’ shy,
And in his looks was most demurely sad;
And now he laughed aloud, yet none knew why.

Neither Goldsmith, nor La Fontaine in his “Tableau de Famille,” have in my mind quite delineated an English clergyman, at least of the present day, fond of and entirely engaged in literature, no man’s enemy but his own. Pray, dear Madam, think of these things.

Apparently, Mr. Clarke could not resist suggesting the theme of her next book, one incidentally based on himself.

Jane Austen excused herself from the task by writing,

I am quite honoured by your thinking me capable of drawing such a clergyman as you gave the sketch of in your note of Nov. 16th. But I assure you I am not. The comic part of the character I might be equal to, but not the good, the enthusiastic, the literary. Such a man’s conversation must at times be on subjects of science and philosophy, of which I know nothing; or at least be occasionally abundant in quotations and allusions which a woman who, like me, knows only her own mother-tongue, and has read little in that, would be totally without the power of giving. A classical education, or at any rate a very extensive acquaintance with English literature, ancient and modern, appears to me quite indispensable for the person who would do any justice to your clergyman; and I think I may boast myself to be, with all possible vanity, the most unlearned and uninformed female who ever dared to be an authoress.

Mr. Clarke was not to be deterred and, having recently been appointed chaplain and private English secretary to Prince Leopold, who was then about to be united to the Princess Charlotte, wrote to suggest, an historical romance illustrative of the august House of Cobourg would just now be very interesting,’ and might very properly be dedicated to Prince Leopold.

Jane Austen once again declined with great civility.

You are very kind in your hints as to the sort of composition which might recommend me at present, and I am fully sensible that an historical romance, founded on the House of Saxe-Cobourg, might be much more to the purpose of profit or popularity than such pictures of domestic life in country villages as I deal in. But I could no more write a romance than an epic poem. I could not sit seriously down to write a serious romance under any other motive than to save my life; and if it were indispensable for me to keep it up and never relax into laughing at myself or at other people, I am sure I should be hung before I had finished the first chapter. No, I must keep to my own style and go on in my own way; and though I may never succeed again in that, I am convinced that I should totally fail in any other.

We can only imagine how taxing this barrage of story ideas from a highly placed source must have been for Jane and applaud how kindly she turned them aside. I am particularly amused that she let’s him know that she could “no more write a romance than an epic poet.” I, for one, think she could do probably do whatever she put her mind to.

Some of us have experienced this offering of “ideas for stories.” Should this happen to me, while I never hope to be as clever and articulate as Jane Austen, I do hope to be as polite.

Has this happened to you? How did you respond?

Posted in Jane Austen, Regency, Writing | 5 Replies

Eye Jewelry

Updated on March 1, 2014 by Myretta

Mrs. Fitzherbert’s Eye Miniature by Richard Cosway

The first eye miniatures were said to have been painted by the celebrated miniaturist Richard Cosway who, in 1786, was commissioned by the Prince of Wales (later George IV) to paint the eye of his morganatic wife, Mrs Fitzherbert. However his claim to being the first is now disputed.

The book, Perfect Likeness: European and American Portrait miniatures from the Cincinnati Art Museum, gives us this history of the Eye miniature:

Not only was the eye traditionally regarded as the “window of the soul” but in a more romantic vein, love was said to enter through the eyes, which first caressed and then possessed the object of desire.

While many eye miniatures were undoubtedly intended as love tokens others … were meant as memorials, as indicated by a black enamel border and a commemorative inscription to the back of the piece.

The black border indicates that this is mourning jewelry

Engleheart’s book records several such commissions including a 1783 painting of “Mrs Quarrington, her eye” which would refute the claim that Cosway’s of Mrs Fitzherbert was the first of the genre.

Most eye miniatures are unsigned, making attribution of these diminutive and intriguing works difficult if not impossible.

George IV was buried wearing Mrs. Fitzherbert’s eye miniature-a fact verified by the Duke of Wellington who took a peek.

I’m particularly enamored of the fob pictured here that has (I think) five eye miniatures attached. Who shall we imagine wore this? A doting father? A much-widowed aristocrat? A gentleman with an active love life? What a story this would make.

For a quick look, here’s a YouTube video from The Georgia Museum of Modern Art and the University of Georgia for the exhibition “The Look of Love: Eye Miniatures from the Skier Collection,” organized by the Birmingham Museum of Art.

Posted in Regency, Research | 5 Replies