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Category: Research

Posts in which we talk about research

Today’s the day in 1814 upon which poet Francis Scott Keyes composed The Star Spangled Banner which was adopted as our national anthem in 1931. He was inspired by witnessing the end of the bombardment of Fort McHenry during the War of 1812, where the British retreated after shelling the fort for over 24 hours, and, so the legend goes, as the smoke cleared, Keyes viewed the flag still in place.

Huzzah!

Keyes was visiting the British flagship the Tonnant, to negotiate for the release of one Dr. William Beanes who had been captured when the British invaded Washington. Letters from wounded British officers praising Beanes persuaded the British to release him, but they kept Keyes and his companions aboard ship, fearing they knew too much about the proposed invasion of Baltimore. Keyes, inspired, scribbled his poem on a scrap of paper and thus a legend was born.

Except … you must have noticed the words don’t quite fit. It’s difficult to sing, requiring you to squeak up tosome fairly high notes (most people have a range of about an octave and this requires a range of about an octave and a half). Keyes didn’t write the tune; instead he suggested that it should be sung to the tune of a 1776 drinking song called To Anacreon in Heaven, the theme song of the Anacreontic Society, a London drinking club. Anacreon, a 6th century BC poet, wrote extensively about women and wine. You can see more about the club and the text of the song at ColonialMusic.

I looked around for a version of the original on youtube and came up with this, which sounds historically correct tho there is no picture, the subtitles are odd and it sounds as though someone is splintering small pieces of wood during the recording (but don’t let that put you off). The song had a history of being recycled on this side of the Atlantic, with two earlier versions, Adams and Liberty–the Boston Patriotic Song and Jefferson and Liberty. It was a favorite of Keyes himself, who’d written another version in 1805, When the Warrior Returns, a tribute to Stephen Decatur.

If you’re in Baltimore or plan to visit, check out the Flag House (where the original star spangled banner that survived the battle was made) and Fort McHenry.

Also in a couple of weeks there’s a bombardment of books and authors at the Baltimore Book Festival takes place and I’m on various panels and reading on Friday afternoon/evening. More about that later.

What’s your favorite legend or reality of American history?

 

September 14 was the 160th anniversary of the death of the Duke of Wellington, who died of a stroke that date in 1852. Naturally at such a time I’ve been thinking of “Dear Artie,” as Kristine Hughes (my rival) and I fondly call him.

Not long ago I came across a book in the public domain called The Letters Of The Duke Of Wellington To Miss J. Remarkably, for 17 years the duke engaged in a correspondence with a young woman who was bent upon saving his soul.

Miss J was the daughter of member of the gentry who was left in fairly comfortable means after the early deaths of her parents. She received the finest schooling along with other young ladies of the aristocracy and lived with an elderly companion afterward.

At an early age she became a religious zealot, devoting her life to God and turning away from worldly matters. She rejected a suitor because he did not meet her exacting spiritual standards. Shortly after she and a friend managed to convert a condemned criminal, Miss J felt embolden to take on a new charge. She took the bold step to write to the Duke of Wellington, presumably to offer her services to convert him to a life of righteousness. At that time the duke, after having been Prime Minister, was Peel’s Foreign Secretary and was to continue to be very active in political life for several more years. Nevertheless, he answered this young woman’s letter. After she delivered the gift of a bible to him, he called upon her.

It is hard to imagine why this busy, important man might trouble himself with any involvement with a much younger woman bent on saving his soul. He was three years a widower and 64 years of age at that time and perhaps was looking back on parts of his life with some contrition. Or perhaps he was flattered that a young, beautiful woman was enamored of him.

He did appear to become infatuated with Miss J for a time, professing loving her, which seemed to have scared her enough to forbid him any more in-person visits. Her diary, though, seemed to convey her belief that God was calling her to eventually marry the Duke of Wellington. The duke, however, remained worldly enough that he would not risk being held up to ridicule for marrying a woman young enough “to be his granddaughter,” as he put it to her.

Their correspondence continued, but not without trouble. A year later, Miss J becomes affronted because a letter from the duke arrived with a plain seal, which she took as a deliberate slight to her consequence. She threatens never to write him again. When he doesn’t write her back fast enough, she fires off another letter.

Here is the duke’s reply

“My dear Miss J., — I always understood that the important parts of a Letter were its Contents. I never much considered the Signature; provided I knew the handwriting; or the Seal provided it effectually closed the letter…”

He goes on to explain that he often doesn’t personally seal his letters, that the task is often performed by s secretary, and because he writes many letters the seal becomes too hot to use and another seal is employed. He does promise not to repeat the slight should she wish him to continue writing her.

Shortly after, Miss J perceives herself called by God to continue writing to the duke and he accepts her letters and writes in return. The letters persist for years, weathering other times when Miss J again feels slighted.

In 1850, Miss J suffers from poor health and financial reverses. At the urging of her sister who had come from America to tend to her, she asks the duke for financial assistance. He immediately writes back that she is but to tell him the amount she needs and the bank to which it should be sent and he will happily assist her.

But Miss J does not deal in such worldly matters. She leaves it to the duke to figure out how much to send and how to get it to her. There are letters back and forth regarding this matter, until he finally devises a plan to send her the money. All she has to do is sign for the receipt of the package.

Miss J finds this too worldly for her and refuses to sign anything. At this point it appears the duke has had it with her. He writes several formal, terse letters to that effect and states that she should not trouble herself to write him again.

She persists in writing him, letters he only answers from time to time to send a terse message that she should not write him again.

She had a letter ready to post to him when her physician visited and told her of the Duke’s death. She feared he did not make it into the Kingdom of God.

Miss J’s finances forced to go to America to live with her sister, but her sister apparently could not abide what then had become Miss J’s even more religious extremes. Miss J lived alone in New York until her death in 1862.

I found this a fascinating part of “Dear Artie’s” life and I loved reading his letters when he employed a sarcastic tone. Poor Miss J! Her religious feelings seem to have begun in a great desire to live a good life, but ended in her being estranged from two people who were prepared to love her–her sister and The Duke of Wellington.

Come to my Diane Gaston Blog this Thursday Sept 20 when my guest will be my friend, Darlene Gardner, talking about her latest Superromance, The Truth About Tara. Darlene will be giving away a free copy of Twice the Chance, her Holt Medallion award of merit winner.

This past weekend I spent some time thinking about cosmetics. I’m about out of my skin care products and make-up and so I have decisions to make.

Years ago I used Merle Norman cosmetics exclusively, both skin care products and make-up, but the store where I purchased them closed and I thought the company went out of business. But I found one in Georgia a couple of years ago, then looked on the internet and found a shop near me. So my last purchase was from Merle Norman.

Before that I was using Bare Minerals for make-up, products I do like a lot, but I wanted to try Merle Norman again. I’d also been using Avon Products for skin care.

Now I’m at a deciding point again. Which should I choose? Merle Norman? Bare Minerals? Avon?

The Regency woman had a lot fewer choices.

Actually, the Regency woman did not have a great need for make-up. The era was one that valued the natural look, in contrast with the Georgian era which favored white faces with rouged cheeks and black patches. Unfortunately, one of the main the ingredients of this Georgian make-up was lead, leading to disfigurement and even death.

For the natural look of the Regency, there were some tinted foundations, mostly used by older women. Rice powder or talc powder was sparingly used and a light touch of cheek tint was acceptable, as well as lip color, some of which was not too different from today’s lip gloss.

Here’s a great website that tells more about Regency cosmetics.

Skin care products were more widely used and for the same reasons I use them–to improve the skin and fight signs of aging. And for reasons I used to use them many moons ago–for skin eruptions or, as we called them, pimples.

One of the products used lead or mercury, both very toxic and harmful. Other products had familiar ingredients, like rose water and almond oil.

A problem with the skin care products of the Regency were that they might include ingredients like milk or cream that would spoil, so they didn’t have a long shelf life.

For more about Regency skin products, look here.

Here’s a whole book written in the late 1700s – The Toilet of Flora by Flora (a goddess).

And here is a podcast from Historic Williamsburg that talks about “the art of beauty” in the Georgian and Regency eras.

So….What is your favorite cosmetic or skin care product? Any advice for me?

Come to Diane’s blog THIS Thursday for my interview with Superromance author and pal, Darlene Gardner. (I forgot it was Thursday last week and missed posting this blog! THIS Thursday for sure.)

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This weekend we had an ant infestation in our kitchen. Naturally, this would happen when the exterminator wasn’t available. We had to battle the army of ants all by ourselves. I went to the internet to see what weapons we might use against this assault.

I now know more than I ever wanted to know about ant control. Turns out you not only have to remove the temptation (In this case, sugar. Apparently some ants have a sweet tooth; other ants crave other things), you have to interrupt their scent trails. I wiped everything down in vinegar, but that didn’t seem like enough. One of the suggestions was to spray a mixture of essential peppermint oil and water in the areas where it was suspected the ants entered. Well, I had essential peppermint oil, but I didn’t have a spray bottle. Besides, I thought, if a dilution of essential oil would work, how much better could it be if I didn’t dilute it?

I sprinkled full-strength peppermint essential oil all around the window and the sink.

Five hours later, the scent of peppermint was still so strong it made us all feel sick. It made even pizza taste funny.

Today we’ve seen some strays, but I’m still hopeful we’ve solved the problem. I got to thinking. What would a housekeeper have done about an ant infestation in Regency times?

I could not find out what they would have done about ants in Regency times, but I did learn a little about “bug control.”

This is from The Art of Cookery Made Plain And Easy; which Far exceeds any Thing of the Kind yet published by Mrs Glasse (1784)



The Toilet and Cosmetic Arts in Ancient and Modern Times by Arnold J. Cooley (1866) tells about how to get rid of parasites, like the head louse (stiff brush, “occasional” soap and water, and pomade), the body louse (regular bathing), and the crab louse (a solution of corrosive sublimate and sal-ammoniac in soft-water), but I can hardly bear thinking about having to battle such bugs. Cooley also recommends tobacco smoke to drive away insects, such as mosquitos, gnats, and bed bugs. That just goes to show that insects aren’t dumb enough to want to breathe in tobacco smoke. 

Have you come across any other Regency era insect exterminating practices? 
Or, how do you get rid of ants?

Look for a new contest at my website today!

*The picture is “Mrs Sperling Murdering Flies” from Mrs. Hurst Dancing by Diana Sperling, charming watercolors created during the Regency. 

It is October, time for all things spooky. So here is another historical ghost story – pre-Regency, but that’s okay because there is a Wellington connection.

This is from Hillman’s Hyperlinked And Searchable Chambers Book Of Days.

The Wynard Ghost Story

This event was experienced by two military officers, Sherbroke and Wynyard, who were stationed in Canada in 1785. Both were in the 33rd Regiment, which in later years was commanded by Arthur Wellesley, the future Duke of Wellington. Sherbroke and Wynyard were friends who often studied together in Wynyard’s apartment. One day as they were studying, Sherbroke glanced up and saw the figure of a
THE WYNYARD GHOST-STORY

No modern ghost story has been more talked of in England, than one in which the seers were two military officers named Sherbroke and Wynyard. The men occupied conspicuous places in society, and were universally known as persons of honour, as well as cool good sense; the reality of their vision was attested by a remarkable circumstance which afterwards took place; and every effort of their own or on the part of others to give an ‘explanation’ has been vain.
John Cope Sherbroke and George Wynyard appear in the army list of 1785, the one as a captain and the other a lieutenant in the 33d Regiment a corps which, some years after, had the honour to be commanded by the Hon. Arthur Wellesley, subsequently Duke of Wellington. The regiment was then on service in Canada, and Sherbroke and Wynyard, being of congenial tastes, had become friends. It was their custom to spend in study much of the time which their brother officers devoted to idle pleasures. According to a narration resting on the best authority now attainable:

‘They were one afternoon sitting in Wynyard’s apartment. It was perfectly light, the hour was about four o’clock; they had dined, but neither of them had drunk wine, and they had retired from the mess to continue together the occupations of the morning. It ought to have been said, that the apartment in which they were had two doors in it, the one opening into a passage, and the other leading into Wynyard’s bedroom. There was no other means of entering the sitting room but from the passage, and no other egress from the bedroom but through the sitting room; so that any person passing into the bedroom must have remained there, unless he returned by the way he entered. This point is of consequence to the story.
‘As these two young officers were pursuing their studies, Sherbroke, whose eye happened accidentally to glance from the volume before him towards the door that opened to the passage, observed a tall youth, of about twenty years of age, whose appearance was that of extreme emaciation, standing beside it. Struck with the presence of a perfect stranger, he immediately turned to his friend, who was sitting near him, and directed his attention to the guest who had thus strangely broken in upon their studies. As soon as Wynyard’s eyes were turned towards the mysterious visitor, his countenance became suddenly agitated. “I have heard,” says Sir John Sherbroke, “of a man’s being as pale as death, hut I never saw a living face assume the appearance of a corpse, except Wynyard’s at that moment”
‘As they looked silently at the form before them, for Wynyard, who seemed to apprehend the import of the appearance, was deprived of the faculty of speech, and Sherbroke perceiving the agitation of his friend, felt no inclination to address it as they looked silently upon the figure, it proceeded slowly into the adjoining apartment, and, in the act of passing them, cast its eyes with an expression of somewhat melancholy affection on young Wynyard. The oppression of this extraordinary presence was no sooner removed, than Wynyard, seizing his friend by the arm, and drawing a deep breath, as if recovering from the suffocation of in tense astonishment and emotion, muttered in a low and almost inaudible tone of voice, “Great God! my brother!” “Your brother!” repeated Sherbroke, “what can you mean, Wynyard? there must be some deception follow me;” and immediately taking his friend by the arm, he preceded him into the bedroom, which, as before stated, was connected with the sitting room, and into which the strange visitor had evidently entered. It has already been said, that from this chamber there was no possibility of withdrawing but by the way of the apartment, through which the figure had certainly passed, and as certainly never had returned. Imagine, then, the astonishment of the young officers, when, on finding themselves in the centre of the chamber, they perceived that the room was perfectly untenanted. Wynyard’s mind had received an impression at the first moment of his observing him, that the figure whom he had seen was the spirit of his brother. Sherbroke still persevered in strenuously believing that some delusion had been practised.
‘They took note of the day and hour in which the event had happened; but they resolved not to mention the occurrence in the regiment, and gradually they persuaded each other that they had been imposed upon by some artifice of their fellow officers, though they could neither account for the reason, nor suspect the author, nor conceive the means of its execution. They were content to imagine anything possible, rather than admit the possibility of a supernatural appearance. But, though they had attempted these stratagems of self delusion, Wynyard could not help expressing his solicitude with respect to the safety of the brother whose apparition he had either seen, or imagined himself to have seen; and the anxiety which he exhibited for letters from England, and his frequent mention of his fears for his brother’s health, at length awakened the curiosity of his comrades, and eventually betrayed him into a declaration of the circumstances which he had in vain determined to conceal.
The story of the silent and unbidden visitor was no sooner bruited abroad, than the destiny of Wynyard’s brother became an object of universal and painful interest to the officers of the regiment; there were few who did not inquire for Wynyard’s letters before they made any demand after their own; and the packets that arrived from England were welcomed with more than usual eagerness, for they brought not only remembrances from their friends at home, but promised to afford the clue to the mystery which had happened among themselves.
‘By the first ships no intelligence relating to the story could have been received, for they had all departed from England previously to the appearance of the spirit. At length the long wished for vessel arrived; all the officers had letters except Wynyard. They examined the several newspapers, but they contained no mention of any death, or of any other circumstance connected with his family that could account for the preternatural event. There was a solitary letter for Sherbroke still unopened. The officers had received their letters in the mess-room at the hour of supper. After Sherbroke had broken the seal of his last packet, and cast a glance on its contents, he beckoned his friend away from the company, and departed from the room. All were silent.
The suspense of the interest was now at its climax; the impatience for the return of Sherbroke was inexpressible. They doubted not but that letter had contained the long expected intelligence. After the interval of an hour, Sherbroke joined them. No one dared be guilty of so great a rudeness as to inquire the nature of his correspondence; but they waited in mute attention, expecting that he would himself touch upon the subject. His mind was manifestly full of thoughts that pained, bewildered, and oppressed him. He drew near to the fireplace, and leaning his head on the mantel-piece, after a pause of some moments, said in a low voice, to the person who was nearest him: “Wynyard’s brother is no more!” The first line of Sherbroke’s letter was “Dear John, break to your friend Wynyard the death of his favourite brother.” He had died on the day, and at the very hour, on which the friends had seen his spirit pass so mysteriously through the apartment.
It might have been imagined, that these events would have been sufficient to have impressed the mind of Sherbroke with the conviction of their truth; but so strong was his prepossession against the existence, or even the possibility of any preternatural intercourse with the souls of the dead, that he still entertained a doubt of the report of his senses, supported as their testimony was by the coincidence of vision and event. Some years after, on his return to England, he was walking with two gentlemen in Piccadilly, when, on the opposite side of the way, he saw a person bearing the most striking resemblance to the figure which had been disclosed to Wynyard and himself. His companions were acquainted with the story, and he instantly directed their attention to the gentleman opposite, as the individual who had contrived to enter and depart from Wynyard’s apartment without their being conscious of the means. Full of this impression, he immediately went over, and at once addressed the gentleman. He now fully expected to elucidate the mystery. He apologised for the interruption, but excused it by relating the occurrence, which had induced him to the commission of this solecism in manners. The gentleman received him as a friend. He had never been out of the country, but he was the twin brother of the youth whose spirit had been seen.’
From the interesting character of this narration the facts of the vision occurring in daylight and to two persons, and of the subsequent verification of likeness by the party not previously acquainted with the subject of the vision it is much to be regretted that no direct report of particulars has come to us. There is all other desirable authentication for the story, and sufficient evidence to prove that the two gentlemen believed and often told nearly what is here reported. Dr. Mayo makes the following statement on the subject: ‘I have had opportunities of inquiring of two near relations of this General Wynyard, upon what evidence the above story rests. They told me that they had each heard it from his own mouth. More recently a gentleman, whose accuracy of recollection exceeds that of most people, has told me that he had heard the late Sir John Sherbroke, the other party in the ghost story, tell it much in the same way at a dinner table.’

A writer, signing himself COGNATUS states in Notes and Queries (July 3rd, 1858), that the brother (not twin-brother) whose spirit appeared to Wynyard and his friend was John Otway Wynyard, a lieutenant in the 3rd regiment of Foot guards, who died on the 15th of October 1785. As this gentleman writes with a minute knowledge of the family history, we may consider this date as that of the alleged spiritual incident.
In Notes and Queries, July 2nd, 1859, appeared a correspondence, giving nearly the strongest testimony then attainable to the truth of the Wynyard ghost story. A series of queries on the subject, being drawn up at Quebec by Sir  , adjutant general of the forces in Canada, was sent to Colonel Gore, of the same garrison, who was understood to be a survivor of the officers who were with Sherbroke and Wynyard at the time of the occurrence; and Colonel Gore explicitly replied to the following effect. He was present at Sydney, in the island of Cape Breton, in the latter end of 1785 or 1786, when the incident happened. It was in the then new barrack, and the place was blocked up by ice so as to have no communication with any other part of the world. He was one of the first persons who entered the room after the supposed apparition was seen.

‘The ghost passed them as they were sitting at coffee [between eight and nine in the evening], and went into G. Wynyard’s bed closet, the window of which was potted down.’

The next day suggested to Sherbroke the propriety of making a memorandum of the incident; which was done.:

‘I remember the date, and on the 6th of June our first letters from England brought the news of John Wynyard’s death [which had happened] on the very night they saw his apparition.’

Colonel Gore was under the impression that the person afterwards seen in one of the streets of London by Sherbroke and William Wynyard, was not a brother of the latter family, but a gentleman named he thought) Hayman, noted for being like the deceased John Wynyard, and who affected to dress like him.
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