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Category: Risky Regencies

I haven’t begun a book with a good shipwreck since my 2008 Harlequin Historical, The Vanishing Viscountess, but, here, ten years later, my next two books begin that very way. They even begin with a shipwreck in about the same place, off the west coast of England.

Here’s the backcover blurb for A Lady Becomes a Governess, coming in June, 2018.

A most unlikely governess…
…with a shocking secret

Part of The Governess Swap: Lady Rebecca Pierce escapes her forced betrothal when the ship she’s on wrecks. Assuming the identity of a governess she believes has drowned, she enters the employ of brooding Lord Brookmore, who’s selflessly caring for his orphaned nieces. Inconveniently, she’s extremely attracted to the viscount, with her only chance of happiness tied to the biggest risk: revealing the truth about who she really is…

Shipwrecks were not uncommon occurrences in the 1800s. Wikipedia provides an extensive list for the year 1800, which can give you an idea of how often wrecks can occur.

I’ve read several accounts of shipwrecks in my set of Annual Registers for the years 1810 to 1820. Notably, they almost always stated that all the women and children on board perished.

Here’s an account I found from The New Annual Register or General Repository of History, Politics, Arts, Sciences, and Literature for the Year 1822.

The brig George Captain John M Alpin sailed from Quebec with a cargo of timber for Greenock on the 12th of September last with a crew consisting of nine persons besides three passengers. Early in the morning of the 6th of October she was overtaken by a violent storm which continued without intermission during the day towards sunset the gale increased and the vessel became quite unmanageable. At two o clock the following morning a tremendous sea broke over her and swept away three of her best hands with the companion binnacle, a cable, and boom, and greatly damaged the hull. All hands were then called to the pump, but only three were able to render any assistance. At six o clock they found the vessel to be water logged nothing then remained but to endeavour to gain the main top which with immense difficulty they accomplished, carrying with them one bag of bread about eight pounds of cheese two dozen of wine with a small quantity of brandy and rum. Before they had time to secure themselves in their perilous situation the vessel fell on her beam ends, but within half an hour the hatches blew up and she again righted. Their scanty stores were now examined when to their utter dismay all had been washed except the bag of bread. At this period a distressing scene occurred in the midst of their afflictions. One of the passengers had his wife on board and a child 15 months old, which he carried in his arms. The infant, however, he was compelled to abandon to the merciless waves in the view of its distracted mother. The mainsail was now let down to screen them from the severity of the weather which continued tempestuous until Friday the 11th when they were able once more to go upon the deck. Their thirst had now become excessive and nothing but salt water to be procured. Having found the carpenter’s axe they cut a hole in the deck near to where a water cask had been stowed but alas the cask had been stove and nothing was to be found either for support or convenience but an empty pump can which they carried with them to the main top. That night the female passenger became insensible and next day Saturday 12th she died….

The account continues, describing the extreme measures those remaining took to survive, but after 38 days, only the Captain and one seaman remained to finally be rescued, only to endure another shipwreck before reaching a port. This time, though, all hands survived.

My shipwreck described in my next two books is not quite as perilous, but, as too often happened, most on board perish.

Jane Austen’s World of August 22, 2009, quotes a poem by Wordsworth about the loss at sea of his brother, John, and describes two other shipwrecks of the era. In one, over a hundred people died.

Shannon Selin’s Imagine the Bounds of History blog, tells about the 1822 wreck of the Albion, a packet ship, like in my books. Only nine of the fifty-four on board survived.

As lovely as our beloved Regency period is, it was a time when life was much more precarious than ours today. I don’t often think about that aspect of the Regency. Do you?

Lately, I’ve been busy reworking some furniture to suit the new life I’m creating for myself. Although I’m more sure about my taste than I used to be, I’m still drawn to design that evokes something of a Regency or neoclassical feel.

A while back, I bought a set of dining chairs that are early 20th century reproductions of earlier styles. Here’s one of them, followed by the image of an English chair c.1780.

My newer projects include restoring some vintage items that I got inexpensively due to condition issues. Again, the lines remind me of late Georgian design. Here’s a dresser I got which I believe is in the style of Duncan Phyfe, an American designer in the Federal (neoclassical) style, who was inspired by English designer Thomas Sheraton.  For comparison, it’s followed by a Duncan Phyfe sideboard.

Although most of the dresser is in good shape, the top was quite damaged. Here, just for bragging purposes, are three of the stages of the restoration. I still have to do the final finish, but I’m happy with the progress!

I’ve also been remaking some furniture I already had, including this armoire. The nice people at the Purple Painted Lady helped me with materials and instructions. I had to custom mix the paint, and it was only after I was finished that I realized that it was Wedgewood blue, reminiscent of Jasperware created by Josiah Wedgewood.

Here’s a late 18th century jasperware scent bottle so you can see how close I got, without knowing that I was trying! In person, the color contrast of the blue and white is a bit stark, but I have to give it a dark wax glaze which should soften the contrast and bring out some of the details.

Anyone else find themselves decorating with elements of earlier styles? Anyone else try  refinishing or painting furniture, and how did it go?

Elena

I am in throes of getting bids for repairing bathrooms in my house. This is not my idea of fun! Getting contractors to come, let alone receiving bids from them after they’ve come, is a struggle. Do you think it was this way back in the Regency when people wanted to remodel or refurbish their homes? I wonder, because people did seem to do a lot of “improvements”.

One of the story threads in The Magnificent Marquess that I enjoyed writing was my hero’s on-going effort to recreate a slice of India through “improvements” to his grand Grosvenor Square residence (which of course fascinates my heroine). Eventually he is persuaded to hold a reception and invite most of London’s elite to come see it. There is no hint that he has any trouble hiring craftsmen and workers to carry out his plans. Nor do any actual accounts I have run across indicate that this was a problem during the Regency. I have the sense that people were more concerned with hiring the “best” builders and craftspeople –the best known, for the purposes of status, as well as the best in quality work.

I am occasionally amazed by the ambitious undertakings they often did…relocating entrances, even stairwells….but it helps to have an understanding of the role not only of changing tastes in home fashion and design, but economics, too.  For instance the tax on windows…or changing attitudes towards bathing & cleanliness (in the late Regency adding a room for bathing was one of the things people did).

(see article about shower baths @ Jane Austen’s World;   https://janeaustensworld.wordpress.com/2010/11/11/a-19th-century-regency-era-shower/

Prinny spent huge sums on improvements to the various royal residences and set a trend of course by doing so, since people emulated whatever the royals were doing. Between 1787 and 1815 he hired a series of architects to make improvements of his residence in Brighton, ending with John Nash to remake Henry Holland’s villa into the palatial and exotic Brighton Pavillion (1815-1822).   He also hired Nash to turn Carlton House, which after spending huge sums to have it built in 1786 the Prince Regent now found “antiquated, rundown, and decrepit”, into Carlton House Terrace (1827-1833). He wanted Nash to replace it by remaking Buckingham House into a new palace (begun 1825), although he ultimately did not live to see it finished, and Nash was dismissed from that project.

Other famous properties improved around this time included Syon House, the showpiece of Robert Adam’s designs from the 1760’s. The 3rd Duke of Northumberland had the entire house refaced in Bath stone and added a porte cochere in the 1820’s. Wikipedia notes that “This remodelling is thought to have been done by the architect Thomas Cady, who had worked on previous estates belonging to the Percy family.The website for Syon House also notes “Domestic imperatives were addressed with a new range of kitchens and the construction of the Oak Passage,” but I’m not sure of the date –that may have been post-Regency, as new technologies became available.

The prominent architect Jeffry Wyatt did most of his work remodeling and making additions and improvements to existing properties, including such great houses as Longleat in Wiltshire, Wollaton Hall in Nottinghamshire and Chatsworth in Derbyshire. According to writer Derek Linstrum, (Linstrum, Derek. “Wyatville (formerly Wyatt), Jeffry (1766-1840).” The Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Online ed.), this was to be expected in an era when such work “had become almost an obsession” because of the desire “to answer new demands for comfort and convenience, or to express an advancement in the aristocratic hierarchy.”  (See more about Wyatt below.)

The “Survey of London” is one of my favorite sources for checking out what people did to their houses, whether they were living in them or simply owned and rented them out.

http://www.british-history.ac.uk/survey-london/vol40/pt2/pp117-166

While this example for No. 4 Grosvenor Square predates the Regency, I love the details, including the builder Henry Flitcroft’s conclusion at the end of his report to the Earl of Malden. We can all only hope our projects will be “pursued with all proper dispatch”!!

‘The Works at your House in Grosvenor Square go on very well, and as fast as the Nature of them will permit, the Steps are made down to the Lower offices by your Lordshipp’s dressing room, and I have had 3 useless Doorways, and 7 blanks or holow places in ye Lower Story walld up Solid, which is a great strengthening to the Lower part of the House, the Bricklayers are Now at Work upon the Blanks and useless doorways which your Lordshipp Ordered to be walled up on the Hall floor, which will add much strength to ye House, the Plaisterers are got to Work on ye Celing, (fn. 2) ye Doorway of the Front is altering, and when that is done I shall order the wall of the Back stair case to be underpinned. When that is done I hope to be able to report the House secure. ‘The fitting up ye Dining Room (which will be a very good one) and the Hall etc. will be pursued with all proper dispatch, and hope to have done the Whole in about two Months time …’. (fn. 74)

The exterior improvements at No. 88 Brook Street (formerly No. 33) are very typical to bring an older house into the current fashion during the Regency, with the longer “French” windows and ironwork: “In 1822–4 C. R. Cockerell made alterations for the lessee Henry Trail costing £3,384. (fn. 99) It must have been at about that period—and therefore just possibly at his hands—that the first-floor windows were lengthened and a continuous iron balcony and projecting Ionic porch added.”  The same treatment can be seen in this photo of No. 36 Brook Street. 

The story for No. 39 (formerly No. 50) Brook Street is especially interesting because the home’s resident was Sir Jeffry Wyatville, originally known as Jeffry Wyatt (1766-1840), one of the prominent architects working during the Regency. According to a biography at http://www.victorianweb.org/victorian/art/architecture/wyattville/index.html, Wyatt was a member of a well-known dynasty of successful, prominent architects. At the time he was apprenticed to his uncle James Wyatt, the latter was considered “the most fashionable of London architects” and in 1796 was Surveyor-General and Comptroller of the Office of Works. Jeffry, however, followed his own more modern path to success, forming a partnership with John Armstrong, a prominent carpenter and building contractor, whose workshops and timber yard were located on the triangular site at the corner of Brook’s Mews and Avery Row, behind No. 39 (then 50) Brook Street. According to writer Kenneth Allinson, “This was the kind of move which some architects, like John Soane, looked down on; but it demonstrated that “the age of professionalism had arrived” (Allinson, Kenneth. Architects and Architecture of London: A Celebration of the Significant Architects Who Have Contributed to the Fabric of the Capital. Oxford: Architectural Press, 2008 p.131).

Wyatt went on to serve “an extraordinarily distinguished clientele”, including seventeen Earls and “a grand total of four sovereigns.” Wyatt won the commission to “restore, alter and extend Windsor Castle against stiff competition from Sir John Soane, John Nash and Robert Smirke”, and in 1828 he was knighted for his work.

In 1802 Jeffry Wyatt obtained sole possession of No. 39 Brook Street. He was granted a sixty-three-year lease of the house on payment of a fine of £2,556 and, “after reroofing it and carrying out various repairs costing nearly £1,000, he lived there until his death in 1840.”

However, in 1821 “Wyatt was dismayed to find that ‘owing to the vicinity of the great common sewer [i.e. the Tyburn Brook, flowing beneath Avery Row] the water has evidently found its way to the foundation of my house, and it is now absolutely splitting into two pieces’. He calculated the cost of repairs at £3,000 and asked for a longer leasehold term as compensation.

Wyatt did undertake a thorough repair and reconstruction, for the ratebooks record that the house was empty for three quarters of 1821 and half of 1822 and was being ‘rebuilt’. The work comprised complete refronting as well as alterations to the interior. At the same time a large new wing was built extending back at right angles from the house. This contained a drawing office on the ground floor with a gallery above for the reception of clients (fig. 11). In 1823 he reported that these works had cost more than £5,000 and again asked for some amendment of the lease in his favour. Eventually in 1827 a new lease which included the workshops and timber yard at the corner of Brook’s Mews and Avery Row was granted to 1887 at an increased annual rent.”

The most distinctive feature of the rebuilt front (Plate 22a in vol. XXXIX) is the domed, curved corner bow, which originally contained an ingenious circular entrance hall. (The storefront shown in the photo was added in 1927.)   The shallow lead dome surmounting the bow is a feature which Wyatt had adopted from the repertoire of his uncle, builder/architect Samuel Wyatt, whilst the stuccoed façade, framed with panelled pilasters, is another distinctive feature of Jeffry Wyatt’s classical work, to be seen at Chatsworth, for instance. Though the original early eighteenth-century staircase, with three alternating patterns of twisted balusters per step and carved step-ends, was retained (Plate 4a, fig. 12), the top of the well was remodelled and given a glazed lantern, the Carolean-style frieze here being derived from Windsor Castle, and evidently a conscious attempt to conform to the ‘antique’ appearance of the staircase. The rear rooms on the ground and first floors have ceilings of exceedingly shallow segmental form. The new gallery at the rear (Plate 4c), approached through high double doors, has a less shallow segmental ceiling, originally toplit, and square alcoves half way down each side, one of which contained a patent stove (now replaced by a chimneypiece). (plate references are in the Survey of London)

Given the extensive work needed on this one, all I can think is how fortunate it was that the leaseholder was a great architect!! And it makes me feel a little better about the extensive work one of my bathrooms is going to need, LOL.

How do you feel about renovating? Chore or pleasure? Have you had good experiences or bad? If you lived during the Regency, would you have been one of those who followed the “obsession” to update your home?

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I’m a day late but thought I’d celebrate the new year by sharing the origins of the song we sing at midnight on January 1. The lyrics are attributed to Robert Burns in 1788, but the Scottish poet said he merely copied down the old folk song from “an old man.” However the song originated, it is one that always stirs my emotions. It is commonly sung at the end of the year and at other times of endings, such as funerals, farewells, graduations.

Here’s the English translation of Auld Lang Syne

Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and old lang syne?

CHORUS:
For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we’ll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.
And surely you’ll buy your pint cup!
and surely I’ll buy mine!
And we’ll take a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

CHORUS
We two have run about the slopes,
and picked the daisies fine;
But we’ve wandered many a weary foot,
since auld lang syne.

CHORUS
We two have paddled in the stream,
from morning sun till dine†;
But seas between us broad have roared
since auld lang syne.

CHORUS
And there’s a hand my trusty friend!
And give me a hand o’ thine!
And we’ll take a right good-will draught,
for auld lang syne.

CHORUS

We at Risky Regencies are nostalgic for “auld lang syne” (old times). Maybe that’s why we write about it!

Happy New Year, everyone!

The last great house we visited on my friend Kristine Hughes Patrone‘s Number One London Tours Lake District tour was Tatton Hall.

Tatton Park is a historic estate in Cheshire, England, that had been in the Egerton family from 1598 to 1958 when the Last Lord Egerton left it to the National Trust. At its largest, the estate covered 251,000 acres. The present Tatton Hall was built in 1716, with improvements made from the 1770s to 1816 resulting in the neoclassical mansion much as it appears now. Other additions were made in the late 1800s.

As a neoclassical historic house, Tatton Hall is a beautiful example with a gorgeous interior, furnishings, and artwork. Its gardens are extensive and indescribably beautiful, but another unique feature of the house is the preservation of its cellars. Even though there are some modern improvements, Tatton Hall’s cellars give us a peek of what life might be like for the regency era servants who kept such great houses operating.

The servant’s stairs

A hallway

Another hallway with fire buckets hanging

Rails on the floor upon which items could be moved quickly

Wine cellar

Beer cellar

Still room

Dairy room (those are cheeses)

Spice room

Salt room (where they salted and stored meat)

Copper kitchen molds and utensils

China closet

Housekeeper’s room

And, to end, an amusing sign that was above stairs

Have you seen other good examples of life below the stairs? Tell us where!