Heather King's Blog, page 11
December 13, 2014
Christmas During The Georgian and Regency Eras
Kissing BoughIn England, Christmas as a time of feasting had been celebrated from at least medieval times as an interval of cheer in the midst of winter. Oliver Cromwell, however, put a stop to the festivities in 1644 and for the poorer sections of society it became just another working day. Christmas as it is known today was developed by the Victorians, but the Georgians had already, with their flair for excess, reinstated many of the old traditions and customs.
Preparations began for the Christmas season, which extended in Georgian times from St. Nicholas Day (6th December) to Twelfth Night (6th January), with the country households of the gentry and aristocracy gathering winter greenery with which to ‘deck the halls’. Preparations also included stocking up the larder, cleaning the guest rooms and polishing the best tableware. The lady of the house would have ordered her gowns for the festive season months before, the more wealthy travelling to London to visit a fashionable modiste. Each gown could easily have cost her husband as much as £4000 in modern terms and been delivered well in advance, perhaps as early as the previous summer
The Georgians loved any excuse to party and Christmas was no exception. It was considered a time for games and feasting, for lively house parties, masquerades, balls, visiting and play acting. The rich salved their consciences at such blatant overindulgence by gifts of charity to the less fortunate. On many estates, servants were rewarded with a feast, although they usually partook of their own Christmas meal in the middle of the morning to enable them to wait on their employers and ensure the family’s festivities were perfect.
A Regency Christmas was mostly an adult affair, with children ‘out of sight, out of mind’ in the nursery. Any gifts tended to be given on St. Nicholas Day, while they might be expected to attend church twice on Christmas Day. The holiday became more geared towards family and children in the Victorian era.
Guests from nearby estates and sometimes farther afield would begin arriving soon after this, signalling the beginning of balls, parties and other entertainments. New arrivals would be welcomed with a warming glass of wine mulled with cloves, cinnamon and other spices, or a tumbler of rum punch. The gentlemen would indulge in hunting, shooting, billiards, political discussions and other manly pursuits, while the ladies would take the opportunity to gossip, exchange patterns and recipes, enjoy poetry, reading and music. Christmas Eve was the start of twelve days of religious reflection, for the Georgians were devout – outwardly at least – and it was traditional for an enormous Yule Log to be lit. It had to be large enough to keep burning for all twelve days, since it was considered unlucky for it to go out. The Georgians had not abandoned the long-held belief that the pagan plants still used today to decorate homes – holly, ivy and mistletoe – warded off evil spirits. The Yule Log also had its customs, in that it was thought bad luck for it to be touched by a barefooted woman or a visitor with flat feet!
Amidst the decorative garlands of fruit and foliage which festooned the house on every available prominence (with an eye for beauty and elegance, of course), there would be, except in the primmest of establishments, a ‘kissing bough’. This was a ball of greenery (including the wicked mistletoe!), which was suspended from the ceiling. It was constructed around a basket, then ornamented with ribbon and sometimes candles. Each time a kiss was claimed beneath it, a berry had to be removed, the kisses then supposed to cease once all the berries had gone. Most houses would not yet have had a Christmas tree, but although Queen Victoria’s consort, Prince Albert, popularised its use after a picture appeared in The Illustrated London News in 1848 of the tree he had installed at Windsor Castle, he was not, as is often thought to be the case, responsible for its introduction to Britain. That honour falls to George III’s wife, Queen Charlotte, who brought the tradition from her native Hanover at the turn of the nineteenth century.
Dinner was a grand affair right through the season, not just on Christmas Day itself. Composed of up to twenty dishes – and by the Regency partaken of between six and seven o’clock in the evening – the formally and symmetrically arranged pattern of dishes à la francaise was gradually giving way to the system à la russe. This latter, possibly brought from the continent by the Prince Regent’s famous French chef de cuisine, Marie-Antoine Caréme, consisted of dishes arriving at table in sequence, more as we would today. Thus soup, fish, meat and dessert courses would be defined as such and follow each other.
Regency Christmas fare included brawn, made from a pig’s head which had been boiled for five or six hours, the flesh and fat then pressed into a mould; Jerusalem artichokes, a cod’s head, asparagus soup, turtle soup, spices, fruit, blancmange, Madeira jelly, chocolate drops and a great deal of wine and spirits. It was a golden opportunity for the gentry to display their affluence and a chance for less well-favoured guests and family to enjoy the hospitality of their wealthier neighbours or relatives. Goose was the most traditional choice of main course, along with beef. Turkey had come from America in the sixteenth century, the birds fitted with boots and walked to London from Norfolk by drovers, but it did not become popular until Victorian times.
A particularly favourite way of showing prosperity was to have on the table a traditional Christmas pie. This was made from whatever birds were available on the estate and comprised a three to five bird roast which was then encased in pastry. A common combination was chicken, pheasant and pigeon, all of which were boned and then stuffed inside each other. Particularly in Yorkshire, this was often given as a gift.
A more elaborate version of this dish caused the great bustard to be driven to extinction in Britain by the 1840s. Great bustards were prized for their flavour and cost about two guineas each in the first years of the nineteenth century. French chef Grimod de la Reyniere included in his book of that time, L’Almanach des Gourmands, a now famous recipe incorporating the bustard. It began with an olive stuffed with capers and anchovies, which was pushed into a garden warbler. This was then put into an ortolan, followed by a lark, a thrush, a quail, a larded lapwing, a plover, a red-legged partridge, a woodcock, a teal, a guinea fowl, a duck, a fattened pullet, a pheasant, a turkey and finally the bustard, each time the whole being placed into the larger bird. The stuffed bustard was then cooked in a sealed pot with ham, carrots, onions, celery, herbs, spices and lard for twenty-four hours. It was the kind of dish which would have graced one of the Prince Regent’s grand banquets.
Two other dishes to appear on the groaning Regency Christmas table are more familiar to a modern eye. Christmas porridge was the traditional pudding, known from the fifteenth century, but was not the sweet affair we enjoy nowadays. It was made from chopped mutton or beef and mixed with breadcrumbs, onion, dried fruit, herbs, spices and wine, a savoury accompaniment to the other meat dishes, with the fruit added for depth of flavour. It was eaten all winter. However, the plum pudding was gaining in favour and eventually replaced the traditional version. Parson Woodforde, the celebrated diarist, recorded a grand dinner of 3rd December 1776, when he gave his guests ‘…surloin of Beef roasted, a Leg of Mutton boiled and plumb Puddings in plenty…’
Mince pies were also a far cry from their modern equivalent. They contained minced meat – beef being the preference for the affluent – and fruit. Both Christmas pudding and mince pies contained less sugar than present day varieties.
So much food was required for a country house party, the cook and her staff were kept busy for days preparing as much as they could in advance. Black butter was mentioned by Jane Austen in one of her ‘Letters to Cassandra’, a ‘simple, uncostly and delightful conserve’ made from apples. Parts of a pig, such as the ears and feet, or those of another animal, were pickled – ‘soused’ – for use in cold dishes. Hot meals were augmented with cuts of cold beef, mutton, hare and venison. Sweet dishes included gingerbread, which has no religious connection, but was cooked by monks for spiritual festivals; cakes, jellies and puddings. Jane Austen mentions rice pudding and apple dumplings.
Twelfth Night, the feast of the Epiphany, was an excuse for revelry and games. Celebrations included masquerades and the drawing of characters to be played for the evening. Among other entertainments were card games and the popular ‘Snapdragon’ – snatching raisins from a bowl of flaming brandy. This was the forerunner of setting the Christmas pudding alight. The centuries-old ‘Blind Man’s Buff’ often took the evening into the early hours in a somewhat disorderly fashion.
The main dish of the evening was Twelfth Cake, a rich and expensive confection of icing sugar and fruit cake – Christmas Cake. The staff were invited to join in the fun, most of the guests having left by then and if they got a pea or a bean in their slice of cake, they were made king or queen for the night.
Carols have their origins in songs associated with round dances to celebrate anything from a birth to a wedding and singing at Christmas dates as early as the fifteenth century, when the ‘wassail’ was a salutation to good health. The wassail could have been sung about any celebration, even to a good apple harvest or cattle; ‘wassailing’ was the action of carousing, or going from house to house singing songs of good cheer and collecting gifts. Such carousals date from 1602, the carols or songs from 1650 and the Twelfth Night and New Year’s Eve drinking of healths from 1661, according to the Oxford English Dictionary.
Many of the best-loved carols – for example ‘God Rest You Merry Gentlemen‘, ‘The First Noel’ and ‘I Saw Three Ships‘– date from at least the sixteenth century, while others, like ‘Good King Wenceslas‘, have more contemporary words set to traditional melodies. Many of these evolved in the Victorian era. ‘Oh Come All You Faithful’ was composed by John Francis Wade in the 1740s and ‘Hark The Herald Angels Sing’ by Mendelssohn (1809-47).
So while you are enjoying your mince pies, chocolate yule log, Christmas cake and mulled wine, sit back by the fire and think of times of yore...
A Very Happy Christmas to you all! Seasons Greetings, Heather.
December 7, 2014
An Improper Marriage ~ Launching Soon
What would you do if a man (or woman) valued you only as a trophy?
Another excerpt from my forthcoming Regency Romance...
[image error]Cedar Avenue
He smiled with clumsy bonhomie, apparently unaffected by her ill-concealed disdain. Suspecting, as she now did, that it was all an act, she struggled to stand her ground and not flinch.
“Your stepfather was concerned that you had been absent some little while and feared you may have become disorientated in the crush, so I told him I should come find you and return you to his care.”
Eleanor favoured him with a frosty inclination of her head.
“You are very kind, sir, but I assure you I can do very well for myself. I was about to make my way back to him.”
She wanted nothing more than to be rid of him. There was something in the back of his eyes that made her shiver… something she did not quite trust. She no longer had any desire to confront him, for she very much feared that her suspicions were true. Dropping a swift curtsey of dismissal, she began to march in a style she knew to be more mannish than maidenly towards the stairs. The advent of a group of giggling debutantes in white muslin allowed her to gain the second flight, but there her unwanted escort came up with her.
He continued to smile, but she had a sense that it was for appearances, should they be observed. It had become fixed and it was from between gritted teeth that he murmured:
“Come, come, Miss Honeybourne, surely you would not be so harsh as to reject my assistance? You must know that I have long been an admirer of yours and since it has come to my notice that you have decided to cast off your period of mourning and dance tonight, I should very much like to accompany you on to the floor.”
Eleanor swallowed a knot of fear. His words might seem innocuous enough, but she was horribly afraid they held a hidden threat. He knew. He knew that she had overheard his wicked plans. Was he also aware that she suspected him? One thing at least was apparent – he was not going to permit her to walk away from him. As if to emphasize this belief, he tucked her arm through his and held it in a punishing grip. Common sense told her he could hardly do anything to harm her in such a public place, but she froze nevertheless.
“One quick twist and I can break your arm, my dear,” he said pleasantly in her ear. “I really should like that dance. Will you accompany me outside?”
Her mind raced ahead. She could scream; denounce him; create a scene. He would not dare—
“Make a sound,” his snarl interrupted her thoughts, “and a broken arm will be the least of your worries.”
There was a gleam of malicious power in his voice and she did not dare gainsay him. She truly believed that he would hurt her if she did. Biting back a sob, she lifted her head proudly and prayed for an opportunity to slip from his clutches.
“Why?” she demanded in a fierce undertone as they descended the steps to the gravel forecourt. A lively minuet was playing and several sets of dancers were revolving around the al fresco ballroom floor. Robert was among them. She breathed a little more easily. At least he was safe for the nonce.
“I should have thought an intelligent lady like yourself would have worked that out,” he replied, leading her towards the trees and the pseudo temple, not the esplanade. “I collect beautiful objects – paintings, works of art – and I wish to add you to my collection.” He sneered lasciviously.
“So you view me as a prize, an ornament?” she said softly. “I am to you but a thing; not a person, a companion in life to be loved and cherished?” She lowered her gaze, hiding behind the veil of her lashes the anger she was sure her eyes must betray, even in the shadowed light provided by the lanterns. It was probably foolhardy to challenge him so, but she had to distract him, keep him talking. Every second’s delay brought the chance of discovery that much closer. There were still a lot of people outside and if he attempted to abduct her, she would make sure as many of them as possible would be made aware of it.
“A marriage is a purchase like any other,” he declared in the same flat tone she had heard earlier. “A man chooses a horse on looks and breeding. It makes sense to me to choose a wife in the same manner.”
October 22, 2014
Coming Soon! An Improper Marriage
During the Regency, few women had a choice when it came to marriage...This is a snippet from my forthcoming novel, An Improper Marriage:
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Eleanor eyed the man whom had stood in place of her father for the last six years. Dressed neatly and without ostentation in a dark blue coat in a finely-woven wool cloth which itself spoke of wealth, he was a ruggedly handsome man with close-cropped sandy hair which showed only a sprinkling of silver. Deep furrows around his pale blue eyes and his unusually stern mouth bore witness to his concern both for her and the situation. He was a good man and she held him in considerable affection, for even as a schoolroom chit still grieving the loss of her papa, she had felt drawn to Robert Holt. Nevertheless, what he was asking her to do was positively medieval. “But sir, he is nigh on twenty years older than I!” she protested. “What has that to say to anything?” he countered. “Jeremiah Knight is a fine man; honest, upstanding and in good health. He is heir to the Knight family estates and wealthy in his own right. He could give you every luxury and, what is more, is prepared to invest heavily in Henzey and Holt’s expansion of Belleview Glassworks.” Eleanor tossed her head of chestnut ringlets. “So you are selling me for the sake of a marriage settlement!” An expression of pain crossed Robert’s features. “Eleanor, must you always speak so plainly? It is not like that. You are aware, however, how long I have wished to specialize in fine quality Flint glassware.” “My father did not like me to be mealy-mouthed,” she replied sharply, ignoring the second part of his speech. “He hated hypocrisy in any form.” “Your mother would have hated to hear her daughter speak so forcefully and in a manner unbecoming to a young lady,” he said quietly. Eleanor flushed at the reprimand and lowered her eyes to the skirt of her butterscotch-coloured muslin morning gown, automatically smoothing the soft fabric. She had only recently begun to wear colours again following her mother’s untimely death under the wheels of a runaway coal wagon the winter before last. “I beg your pardon, sir,” she said stiffly. “I did not mean to give offence. But I beg you will reconsider!” Impulsively she jumped to her feet, pushing back by several inches the carved mahogany armchair in which she had been sitting, and ran to him. Clutching his arm, she gazed beseechingly up at him. “Please, Papa Robert.”
Want to read more? Good! Watch this space for more posts and book details. I'd love to hear from you.Heather
[image error]
Eleanor eyed the man whom had stood in place of her father for the last six years. Dressed neatly and without ostentation in a dark blue coat in a finely-woven wool cloth which itself spoke of wealth, he was a ruggedly handsome man with close-cropped sandy hair which showed only a sprinkling of silver. Deep furrows around his pale blue eyes and his unusually stern mouth bore witness to his concern both for her and the situation. He was a good man and she held him in considerable affection, for even as a schoolroom chit still grieving the loss of her papa, she had felt drawn to Robert Holt. Nevertheless, what he was asking her to do was positively medieval. “But sir, he is nigh on twenty years older than I!” she protested. “What has that to say to anything?” he countered. “Jeremiah Knight is a fine man; honest, upstanding and in good health. He is heir to the Knight family estates and wealthy in his own right. He could give you every luxury and, what is more, is prepared to invest heavily in Henzey and Holt’s expansion of Belleview Glassworks.” Eleanor tossed her head of chestnut ringlets. “So you are selling me for the sake of a marriage settlement!” An expression of pain crossed Robert’s features. “Eleanor, must you always speak so plainly? It is not like that. You are aware, however, how long I have wished to specialize in fine quality Flint glassware.” “My father did not like me to be mealy-mouthed,” she replied sharply, ignoring the second part of his speech. “He hated hypocrisy in any form.” “Your mother would have hated to hear her daughter speak so forcefully and in a manner unbecoming to a young lady,” he said quietly. Eleanor flushed at the reprimand and lowered her eyes to the skirt of her butterscotch-coloured muslin morning gown, automatically smoothing the soft fabric. She had only recently begun to wear colours again following her mother’s untimely death under the wheels of a runaway coal wagon the winter before last. “I beg your pardon, sir,” she said stiffly. “I did not mean to give offence. But I beg you will reconsider!” Impulsively she jumped to her feet, pushing back by several inches the carved mahogany armchair in which she had been sitting, and ran to him. Clutching his arm, she gazed beseechingly up at him. “Please, Papa Robert.”
Want to read more? Good! Watch this space for more posts and book details. I'd love to hear from you.Heather
September 15, 2014
Meet My Character!
My thanks to the wonderful, supportive and multi-talented Mari Christie, who invited me to take part in this Blog Tour.
Mari has been a professional writer, editor and graphic designer for more than twenty years. She works with other authors as a copy editor, e-book designer and web marketer. As an author she writes mainstream historical fiction and poetry, as well as Regency Romance novels under the name Mariana Gabrielle. Find out more by visiting her website at www.marichristie.info.
The aim of the tour is to hopefully reach new readers and introduce new authors, so a huge welcome to anyone who may not have visited this blog before as well as to any who, dare I hope, have already passed this way.
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What is the name of your character? Is he/she fictional or historical?
My character comes from my soon-to-be-released Regency Romance, An Improper Marriage. She is the heroine, Eleanor Honeybourne and is entirely fictitious, although she was ‘born’ from historical facts and stories.
When and where is your story set?
The story begins in the iron-working and glass-making country around Stourbridge in the West Midlands, but the main action takes place at a mansion in Worcestershire. It is set during the Regency, in the spring and summer of 1816.
What should we know about your character?
Rector’s daughter Eleanor is a strong, forthright character with a mind of her own. She has a very close relationship with her stepfather even though she was devoted to her own father. Now her mother is also dead, she is only too aware of the restrictions on her, being gently born, and what she can achieve as a woman in her grandfather’s glass business. In spite of her best efforts, she still holds a flame for her childhood hero and best friend.
What is their main conflict? What messes up his/her life?
I don’t want to spoil the tale… but when Eleanor is forced to escape an unwanted suitor, the only way to save herself is to risk her reputation.
What is the personal goal of your character?
Her actions are determined by her desire to save her stepfather from financial ruin and herself from a lifetime of regret. She knows someone is going to be hurt and this causes a considerable amount of soul-searching.
Is there a working title for this novel and can we read more about it?
The novel is entitled An Improper Marriage and is due to be released in the next few weeks. I will be posting a few excerpts here on A Regency Reticule and on my Facebook pages. Please pop by for a browse!
[image error] It is now my great pleasure to pass you on to the next leg of this tour, which is to be hosted on September 22nd by the lovely Sue Johnson. Pop in to see her at:
www.writer’s-toolkit.co.uk
[image error]You can also visit Suz Demello, who writes erotic fiction, although this is her pseudonym as she also writes traditional romance. Visit her at: http://www.suzdemello.com/home.html
August 22, 2014
Stabling In The Nineteenth Century
THE REGENCY STABLES
There seems to be some confusion over the type of stable to be found during the Georgian and Regency eras, so I thought I would post about it.
In the country house of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the stable yard was a busy and important part of a gentleman’s establishment. When the family was in residence, horses would be required at all times of the day, for pleasure rides, carriage journeys, sending messages etc. In the country, the stables were always so termed. It was in town that they were named ‘mews’, where they were often located behind the house, adjoining a narrow lane and overlooking a similar equine housing on the opposite side, which in its turn belonged to the house on the next road.
In grand establishments, such as Blenheim Palace, Chatsworth and Badminton, the stables were positioned around large courtyards, allowing plenty of space for a carriage and four to manoeuvre. In the ‘good old days’, when they were cobbled, it meant a deal of hard sweeping for the stable boys in order to keep the yard clean and tidy. A tall archway, frequently topped by a clock tower, provided ingress and egress, as well as acting as a statement of the owner’s rank and worth. In these noble mansions, stable blocks were two-storey, featuring stabling on the ground floor, with haylofts and grooms’ accommodation above. Harness rooms were set within the stables for convenience, along with washing areas. One side of the quadrangle was occupied by the coach-house. Many a smaller country house also had this arrangement.
Sadly, the costs of maintaining these ducal residences has meant most stable blocks have been converted to garages or other, financial concerns, such as restaurants and visitor centres. At Badminton House, seat of the Duke of Beaufort and home of the world-famous Badminton Horse Trials, happily the palatial equine quarters are still maintained for their original purpose. Within the long, honey-coloured stone building, set with windows and a central doorway, are a long line of dark timber loose boxes. Each is fronted by a grille above solid planking, to avoid inmates interfering with anybody ‒ horse or human ‒ as they walk past and a carved knob atop each separating partition.
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Stables at Badminton House © Heather KingSuch expansive accommodation, however, was not the norm. Even in Victorian times, my aunt tells me, loose boxes were not common. In the majority of houses, horses were kept in stalls, although I suspect that at some point during the nineteenth century it became fashionable to convert stalls into loose boxes. Indeed, this belief is borne out by Giles Worsley in an article for Country Life about Houghton Hall in Norfolk. He states that the stables at Houghton, in common with ‘all country-house stables’ had been altered with the addition of loose boxes in the nineteenth century. He goes on to say that in many stable yards the original fittings were also replaced in that timescale, but a number survive at Houghton, where the stables are still used for horses.
Sir Robert Walpole, Prime Minister during the 1730s, improved Houghton for political reasons and entertained friends and supporters right royally in the beautiful house and park he created. The current stables were the second quadrangle to be built after the original was demolished, being deemed to be in the wrong position after only thirteen years. They were erected to house eighty animals; hunters, carriage horses and cart-horses. Constructed of the local, coarse yellow Snettisham stone, with brick to the interior of the courtyard, there were varying degrees of opulence for the occupants. In order to display his wealth and quality horseflesh, Sir Robert stalled his hunters in palatial surroundings in the north-eastern block. Dark timber partitions or stall-divisions, finished with alternate columns (each topped with a ball) and stone pillars (leading to the vaulted brickwork overhead), separate each bay and the floor is laid with pinkish-red and blue-grey bricks. Diocletian windows line the wall above the stalls. The original hay racks are composed of twisting uprights and the mangers, also to the front of each stall, have survived unaffected by modernisation. Bridle pegs decorate the walls above the feed bins, with a harness or tack room nearby where the saddles would have been stored. Wooden panelling lines the wall of the tack room, which still has wooden semicircular pegs for bridles and other items of harness.
In the opposite corner of the courtyard, a stable for six horses indicates a lesser degree of comfort. Probably for carriage and coach horses, there is a partition for each pair of animals, as opposed to one between every horse in the hunter stable. Between each pair, hooks survive for the hanging bails which would have been used to separate them. Nevertheless, similar racks and mangers head each double bay. The adjoining block was, in all likelihood, used for the farm horses, since there are no partitions and only a sloping hay rack – the equivalent of travelling economy class!
This arrangement bears out family records, as in one house my grandfather had cow stalls in pairs on one side of a barn and stabling on the other, with another stable for carthorses a short distance away. Both had haylofts above. Frequently, chains were attached to the partitions at the rear of stalls. These could be fastened across behind the horses to prevent them pulling backwards, although often as not they were not put into use, except, perhaps, at night.
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When stabled in a stall, a horse wore a leather headstall to which was attached a rope. This was fed through a ring on the wall or manger and weighted with a ‘log’ – a wooden or metal ball. This contraption, known as a ‘log and rope’, allowed the horse a measure of movement and freedom to lie down, but prevented him from turning around.
Major coach operator William Chaplin famously kept 1800 horses all told, with 200 of them at his underground stables at the Swan With Two Necks on Lad Lane in London. His competitor, Edward Sherman, constructed a large stable complex in the cellars when he rebuilt the Bull and Mouth. With these numbers, they must have been kept in stalls; there would not have been space for loose boxes. Equally, at the thousands of coaching inns across the country, stalls would have been the predominant form of stabling, for ease and convenience if nothing else! In point of fact, writing in 1888, Athol Maudslay was quite scathing on the subject of horse accommodation and care during the coaching age:
“Architects, too, had not thought it worth their while to study stable architecture, or they thought it beneath their dignity to do so, except it were the stables of some great nobleman or a prince of the blood royal, and even in these stables the improvements which now exist were wanting and the sanitary arrangements were very defective. They were ill-lighted, with lowpitched roofs and narrow doorways… As regards the old coaching stables, it is difficult to say of what the old drains were constructed, since in those days there was no iron employed in stable drainage… As for the pavement of these old stables, it is invariably rough pitching, either of pebbles, flint, or Purbeck stone, which is so constructed as to arrest surface drainage, rather than facilitate it. As to the mangers, they were all of wood with old over-head hay-racks and worm-eaten manger-troughs, which, once infected with disease, conveyed it to every horse who fed from the same manger. In place of all this we have now a perfect system of drainage, hard Staffordshire vitrified pavement upon which horses cannot slip, and which is so made that it will not retain water on its surface. We have iron manger-troughs, iron hay-racks, large ventilating windows, and, what is more essential than everything else, width between each stall division, plenty of room behind the horses, and doors of a proper width, through which horses can pass without injury. And then the old yards were vilely paved, and the buildings frequently have neither a claim to architectural pretensions, nor even common sense to plead as an excuse for their erection.”[image error]18th Century Stalls, courtesy of Wikipedia Commons
Dimensions
A ‘good stable should be 18 feet wide inside and each stall should be 6 feet wide,’ says an eminent veterinary surgeon of the late nineteenth century. He recommends that the wall divisions be 9 feet long, allowing a 9 foot wide passage, with 10 feet divisions being preferable. It was considered acceptable for a cart-horse stable to be only 16 feet wide, but the width of stalls had to remain at 6 feet.
Good dimensions for a loose box were 10 x 12 feet, he states; nowadays this would be considered large enough for a pony! A modern hunter would expect a stable of at least 12 x 12 feet, if not 12 x 14, and as of yesteryear, a foaling box was considerably larger – usually around 12 x 16 feet.
There seems to be some confusion over the type of stable to be found during the Georgian and Regency eras, so I thought I would post about it.
In the country house of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the stable yard was a busy and important part of a gentleman’s establishment. When the family was in residence, horses would be required at all times of the day, for pleasure rides, carriage journeys, sending messages etc. In the country, the stables were always so termed. It was in town that they were named ‘mews’, where they were often located behind the house, adjoining a narrow lane and overlooking a similar equine housing on the opposite side, which in its turn belonged to the house on the next road.
In grand establishments, such as Blenheim Palace, Chatsworth and Badminton, the stables were positioned around large courtyards, allowing plenty of space for a carriage and four to manoeuvre. In the ‘good old days’, when they were cobbled, it meant a deal of hard sweeping for the stable boys in order to keep the yard clean and tidy. A tall archway, frequently topped by a clock tower, provided ingress and egress, as well as acting as a statement of the owner’s rank and worth. In these noble mansions, stable blocks were two-storey, featuring stabling on the ground floor, with haylofts and grooms’ accommodation above. Harness rooms were set within the stables for convenience, along with washing areas. One side of the quadrangle was occupied by the coach-house. Many a smaller country house also had this arrangement.
Sadly, the costs of maintaining these ducal residences has meant most stable blocks have been converted to garages or other, financial concerns, such as restaurants and visitor centres. At Badminton House, seat of the Duke of Beaufort and home of the world-famous Badminton Horse Trials, happily the palatial equine quarters are still maintained for their original purpose. Within the long, honey-coloured stone building, set with windows and a central doorway, are a long line of dark timber loose boxes. Each is fronted by a grille above solid planking, to avoid inmates interfering with anybody ‒ horse or human ‒ as they walk past and a carved knob atop each separating partition. [image error]
Stables at Badminton House © Heather KingSuch expansive accommodation, however, was not the norm. Even in Victorian times, my aunt tells me, loose boxes were not common. In the majority of houses, horses were kept in stalls, although I suspect that at some point during the nineteenth century it became fashionable to convert stalls into loose boxes. Indeed, this belief is borne out by Giles Worsley in an article for Country Life about Houghton Hall in Norfolk. He states that the stables at Houghton, in common with ‘all country-house stables’ had been altered with the addition of loose boxes in the nineteenth century. He goes on to say that in many stable yards the original fittings were also replaced in that timescale, but a number survive at Houghton, where the stables are still used for horses.
Sir Robert Walpole, Prime Minister during the 1730s, improved Houghton for political reasons and entertained friends and supporters right royally in the beautiful house and park he created. The current stables were the second quadrangle to be built after the original was demolished, being deemed to be in the wrong position after only thirteen years. They were erected to house eighty animals; hunters, carriage horses and cart-horses. Constructed of the local, coarse yellow Snettisham stone, with brick to the interior of the courtyard, there were varying degrees of opulence for the occupants. In order to display his wealth and quality horseflesh, Sir Robert stalled his hunters in palatial surroundings in the north-eastern block. Dark timber partitions or stall-divisions, finished with alternate columns (each topped with a ball) and stone pillars (leading to the vaulted brickwork overhead), separate each bay and the floor is laid with pinkish-red and blue-grey bricks. Diocletian windows line the wall above the stalls. The original hay racks are composed of twisting uprights and the mangers, also to the front of each stall, have survived unaffected by modernisation. Bridle pegs decorate the walls above the feed bins, with a harness or tack room nearby where the saddles would have been stored. Wooden panelling lines the wall of the tack room, which still has wooden semicircular pegs for bridles and other items of harness.
In the opposite corner of the courtyard, a stable for six horses indicates a lesser degree of comfort. Probably for carriage and coach horses, there is a partition for each pair of animals, as opposed to one between every horse in the hunter stable. Between each pair, hooks survive for the hanging bails which would have been used to separate them. Nevertheless, similar racks and mangers head each double bay. The adjoining block was, in all likelihood, used for the farm horses, since there are no partitions and only a sloping hay rack – the equivalent of travelling economy class!
This arrangement bears out family records, as in one house my grandfather had cow stalls in pairs on one side of a barn and stabling on the other, with another stable for carthorses a short distance away. Both had haylofts above. Frequently, chains were attached to the partitions at the rear of stalls. These could be fastened across behind the horses to prevent them pulling backwards, although often as not they were not put into use, except, perhaps, at night.
[image error]
When stabled in a stall, a horse wore a leather headstall to which was attached a rope. This was fed through a ring on the wall or manger and weighted with a ‘log’ – a wooden or metal ball. This contraption, known as a ‘log and rope’, allowed the horse a measure of movement and freedom to lie down, but prevented him from turning around.
Major coach operator William Chaplin famously kept 1800 horses all told, with 200 of them at his underground stables at the Swan With Two Necks on Lad Lane in London. His competitor, Edward Sherman, constructed a large stable complex in the cellars when he rebuilt the Bull and Mouth. With these numbers, they must have been kept in stalls; there would not have been space for loose boxes. Equally, at the thousands of coaching inns across the country, stalls would have been the predominant form of stabling, for ease and convenience if nothing else! In point of fact, writing in 1888, Athol Maudslay was quite scathing on the subject of horse accommodation and care during the coaching age:
“Architects, too, had not thought it worth their while to study stable architecture, or they thought it beneath their dignity to do so, except it were the stables of some great nobleman or a prince of the blood royal, and even in these stables the improvements which now exist were wanting and the sanitary arrangements were very defective. They were ill-lighted, with lowpitched roofs and narrow doorways… As regards the old coaching stables, it is difficult to say of what the old drains were constructed, since in those days there was no iron employed in stable drainage… As for the pavement of these old stables, it is invariably rough pitching, either of pebbles, flint, or Purbeck stone, which is so constructed as to arrest surface drainage, rather than facilitate it. As to the mangers, they were all of wood with old over-head hay-racks and worm-eaten manger-troughs, which, once infected with disease, conveyed it to every horse who fed from the same manger. In place of all this we have now a perfect system of drainage, hard Staffordshire vitrified pavement upon which horses cannot slip, and which is so made that it will not retain water on its surface. We have iron manger-troughs, iron hay-racks, large ventilating windows, and, what is more essential than everything else, width between each stall division, plenty of room behind the horses, and doors of a proper width, through which horses can pass without injury. And then the old yards were vilely paved, and the buildings frequently have neither a claim to architectural pretensions, nor even common sense to plead as an excuse for their erection.”[image error]18th Century Stalls, courtesy of Wikipedia Commons
Dimensions
A ‘good stable should be 18 feet wide inside and each stall should be 6 feet wide,’ says an eminent veterinary surgeon of the late nineteenth century. He recommends that the wall divisions be 9 feet long, allowing a 9 foot wide passage, with 10 feet divisions being preferable. It was considered acceptable for a cart-horse stable to be only 16 feet wide, but the width of stalls had to remain at 6 feet.
Good dimensions for a loose box were 10 x 12 feet, he states; nowadays this would be considered large enough for a pony! A modern hunter would expect a stable of at least 12 x 12 feet, if not 12 x 14, and as of yesteryear, a foaling box was considerably larger – usually around 12 x 16 feet.
August 2, 2014
Free Giveaway!
Next weekend I shall be giving away......a copy of A Sense of the Ridiculous, to celebrate this wonderful summer we are having!
To enter, all you have to do is answer the following question and post the answer in the comments below or visit my Facebook page A Regency Repository.
https://www.facebook.com/pages/A-Regency-Repository/539039612851540?ref_type=bookmark
Question: What is the name of the heroine in ASOTR and how was her Greek namesake duped?...
The winner can choose between PDF for pc, epub or mobi files.
Good luck!
Heather
July 29, 2014
My Writing Process
Firstly, my apologies to anyone who is following the blog tour and may have looked in on Monday for my post. Forces beyond my control, I'm afraid ~ my internet connection was down! So, here we go without any further ado:
My thanks to Mari Christie, who tagged me to take part in this Blog Tour. Mari is a professional writer, editor and designer from Denver, Colorado. She writes historical fiction, Regency romance and poetry.
http://www.facebook.com/l/IAQHe0pZBAQGsfPPzgRuGc4KYGJGxb87bCXwzGPZxKnmfxw/www.marichristie.info http://www.facebook.com/l/AAQFPf5vXAQF59nWDp5_5F4TxA_7gWg9_4PY2u8lwg66uRA/.marichristie.wordpress.com)
For anyone new to this blog, my name is Heather King, writer, bookworm and mum (aka general dogsbody) to a varied menagerie. I write Regency romance, historical fiction and, as my alter ego, Vandalia Black, Vampire romance and shape shifter novels. I also write short stories for women's magazines.
I have always been a dreamer and as a child would go off for hours into a make-believe world peopled by imaginary characters. I've loved writing since I won a third prize in a short story competition at school when I was about seven. Apart from looking after my animals, I enjoy nothing better than to curl up with a good book.
Feel free to comment here, or catch up with me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/heather.king.author
What am I working on?I have various projects on the go at the moment. This isn't unusual! Sometimes a longer work will be pushed aside when the idea for a shorter one grabs me and the characters won't give me any peace, or something else ~ such as a magazine story, for example ~ takes precedence. Currently I am working on a short story serial, a novella, editing my next-to-be-released Regency An Improper Marriage and a collection of vampire short stories, Vampires don't Drink Coffee.
How does my work differ from others of its genre?There appears to be a trend in some modern Regencies towards a 'contemporary tale with a bit of costuming thrown in'. The reader gets little sense of the worlds the characters inhabit, their mores or even what they eat! My characters (I hope) jump off the page, giving the reader a clear picture of what they are wearing, their mannerisms, meals and the settings in which they move. With the standards of Georgette Heyer as my template, I also like to think that my characters behave and speak as they would have done, rather than in some hybrid style employed to make the story more accessible to the modern reader. How dare we so presume? Who are we to treat our readers' intelligence with such condescension? I dare to hope my work contains a tiny morsel of GH's wit and fun. That is my aim.
Why do I write what I write?I love to write. I love to create a world to which I can withdraw and escape the pressures of modern life. I want to share that world with my readers, so they may also lose themselves in the fantasy for an hour or two. For most of us, reality is becoming increasingly demanding and the simplest pleasures are being left behind and forgotten amidst a world of technology. There is no doubt there was a seedy, treacherous side to life in Georgian times, but in general I like to follow the fabulous legacy of the genre bequeathed by its appointed queen and look more towards the gaiety, elegance and romance of a glorious time in British history. It gives me such a wonderful excuse to write about horses and gorgeous men in top boots and breeches! What more could a romance author wish for?
How does your writing process work?It begins with the seed of an idea. This can come from anywhere ~ mist shrouding the hills, a raindrop on a spider's web, a picture, a snippet of overheard conversation, a book title, a line of prose or a poem; even the antics of my animals. I let it grow naturally for a while until it starts to take over my thoughts. Then I will splurge some ideas down on a 'plot circle' or grid. For a novel or novella I will usually take that a step further on to a large sheet of paper, where I can go off at tangents. A rough chapter list of plot points follows ~ it is very rough as everything can change when I begin to write. I usually write a novel as I read one, but often refresh to foreshadow later ideas as the story develops.
A Sense of the Ridiculous
A list of outlets for my current Regency novel can be found in an earlier post... just scroll down. It is published by Musa Publishing, at http://musapublishing.com for kindle, mobile and computer and from Amazon UK via this link... http://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B00I04PYPE and Amazon US on this one... http://www.amazon.com/A-Sense-Ridiculous-Heather-King-ebook/dp/B00GCTZAPI
I now have pleasure in passing the baton on to the talented Rena George, Jen Black and April Taylor, who will be blogging next week on 4th August. "Well met, ladies!"
The All-important Addresses:
Website renageorge.com https://twitter.com/Rena_George https://www.facebook.com/rena.george.395
www.apriltaylorauthor.com
www.facebook.com/brit writerapriltaylor
http://jenblackauthor.blogspot.comFar After Gold ~ eleventh century VikingsDark Whisky Road ~ nineteenth Century smugglers
July 24, 2014
Heather Visits Her Dark Side...
Vandalia Black's Vampire Collection Is Now Available!
THEY'RE HERE AT LAST!!!!!!! Forget Dracula. Forget the Vampire Diaries. Here are the most gorgeous undead men you'll ever find, battling loneliness, demons, muggers and unholy thirst to find their eternal loves. Available NOW in E-book, the PRINTED BOOK to be ready soon!!!
https://www.createspace.com/4859531
There isn't a Regency vampire in this collection, but there is a story set in Victorian times, one during the English Civil War and another involving a beautiful female vampire who was burned at the stake in 1630...
If you like your vampires handsome and sexy, then this collection of short stories is for you! Vandalia Black's anthology is funny and sensual, revealing the human frailties of the undead. No matter your mood, there is a story here to suit, from 2000 word short stories to a novella. Sit back with a glass of red wine and enjoy! Highly recommended.
"Vampires Don't Drink Coffee And Other Stories" by Vandalia Black
Out of the night steps a figure; mysterious and dangerous, sensual and otherworldly. An individual destined to spend eternity alone, forced to hide in the shadows, preying on the innocent to survive and yet...www.createspace.com
July 2, 2014
Give Your Story Its Best Chance
PresentationFollowing our recent short story competition, I thought I would post on this important subject. Some of those entering the 'Ridiculous' Short Story Competition, shot themselves in the foot, so to speak, by the way they set out their documents.
Title Page
This is your first impression. Make it count. Set out all the information in an orderly and clear way. You should include your name, contact details with email address and phone number, title of the story and word count. Also include your author name if different from your true appellation. This could be set out as follows:
Mr. N. Nobody,
Nowhere Cottage,
Somewhere Lane,
Strangetown,
Middleshire.
10100 500010
Email: n-nobody@mail.co.uk
A MURDER IN MIDDLESHIRE
by
NICK NOBODY
Word Count: 1439
Document
You should not put your name on the story itself, but you SHOULD put the title and page number on each sheet in case pages become separated. Unless otherwise stated in the competition rules, it is a good idea to either put the story in a clear plastic punched pocket or hold the sheets together with a paper clip. It is customary to put the title in the header and the page number in the centre of the footer.
Check the document settings on your computer programme. Some put an extra space between paragraphs and this is not normally required. Double space the text only on A4 paper, indent the start of each paragraph and also each line of dialogue. 12pt font is the standard size; Times New Roman and Arial probably the most common type in the UK. Whichever font you choose, it must be clear and easy to read.
Do not fold your entry.
Check competition rules carefully as some larger comps will reject out of hand any entry which does not, in any way, comply with their requirements.
Also remember to check spelling and punctuation!
Word Count
Ensure your story is within the word count for the competition. If submitting to magazines, this may be a little bit flexible, but it is not so for competitions. If your story exceeds the stated word count, it will not be considered and you will lose your entry fee.
Entry Fee
Ensure you send the correct amount ~ and check the currency in which it should be submitted! $5 is not the same as £5! It might seem obvious, but it is amazing how easy such mistakes are to make.
June 18, 2014
A Ridiculous Story Competition ~ Third Place Winner
Third prize goes to this amusing tale from Sarah Williams:
(It may just have a familiar feel!)
“Ridiculous” Short Story CompetitionShe did not need a looking glass to know she must look a fright. But really, she didn’t believe anyone could look their best after taking a tumble down a rabbit hole. She crawled to the brink, clawed her way over the edge, clambered to her feet and brushed herself down. Actually, now she thought about it, most of the damage had been done not by the fall down the hole in the ground, but by climbing back up. She felt fairly certain, for example, that her hair had not been quite so disarranged until a root had caught in it as she ascended back to ground level. It really was such a jolly silly place to leave a large, unprotected rabbit hole. There were no warning signs, no railings, it was simply an open-mouthed invitation to an accident.Still, she’d been lucky, there was no real harm done, just a few scrapes and bruises. Admittedly, her dress was rather stained and muddy, but it was such a beautiful day that she found herself unable to worry too much about that when the bees were droning lazily in the sunshine.Listening harder, she realised the noise really came from her sister, who continued to read aloud from the deathly dull book she’d chosen to amuse them that afternoon.Amy shrugged, straightened her apron and moved away from the sound of her sister’s voice. She was sure Dinah would have done the same; unlike Amy’s older sibling, Dinah had very high standards of entertainment and was most selective in the company she chose to keep. It suddenly seemed terribly important to Amy that she find Dinah. She looked around and tried to decide which direction a cat who liked hunting was most likely to have chosen. The main choices seemed to be either towards the lake, or into the woods. As Dinah wasn’t a cat who generally liked having damp paws, Amy opted to head wood-wards. At first Amy was very pleased with her choice. In fact she congratulated herself (and Dinah) on the decision. It really was a rather hot day out in the sunshine, it had made her head ache somewhat, so the cool shade of the trees was most welcome.Gradually, however, she realised there was a different kind of heat as she went deeper into the trees. Although the sun was no longer beating down on her bare head, there was a damp mugginess which at times felt almost stifling and which made her head throb.Also, she was still feeling rather wary about where she put her feet, she really didn’t want to fall into another rabbit hole, it had been enough of a struggle escaping the first. But the undergrowth made it difficult to see where to tread safely. And the low branches meant she had to be equally cautious about what she might walk into if she watched her feet too carefully.All in all, after a while, Amy began to regret her decision to enter the woods. She now felt sure Dinah had decided to cool her paws in the shallow water at the edge of the lake after all.Turning quickly so as to try and re-trace her steps, Amy felt something brush against her cheek. Her hand automatically sprang into action to wipe the thing away.“Oi!” shouted a voice, “Mind what you’re doing, you could injure a body doing that!”Amy lowered her hand as her eyes sought the owner of the voice. Seeing him, she blinked.“I – I think I might have met your cousin recently,” she said. “Would he happen to live in a rabbit hole, perhaps?”“Don’t be ridiculous, caterpillars don’t live in rabbit holes,” exclaimed the bright green caterpillar.“Well,” mused Amy, “it really was a very big rabbit hole if that helps?”“It doesn’t. We’re creatures of the air, not the underground,” was the tetchy retort.Amy considered.“Actually, I’d never realised you were creatures of the air,” she began tentatively, “but I can see you are now.”Indeed, her new friend was spinning from a thread which hung down from a tree branch. “Well some of us are, some of us aren’t” the green caterpillar pirouetted on his silk. “But none of us lives in holes, however big they may be.”Amy looked around her. She was no longer sure from which direction she’d come and so didn’t know where her path out lay. Really, she was now doubtful that her straight line route had been quite as straight a line as she’d hoped. She cleared her throat gently.“As you have such a good view, being a creature of the air after all, I wonder if you might be able to tell me which way is out?”The caterpillar rolled his eyes unsympathetically. “All directions lead out. It just depends where you want to be.” “Do they?” she wondered. “How curious. Well I’d really like to be out where I came in, if that’s possible.”“Of course it’s possible. Just tell me where you came in and I’ll point you the right way.” Amy pondered. She didn’t really know where she’d entered the woods, it was just where she’d happened to be at the time. Surely if she knew where it was, she could find it herself?“Thank you for your help,” she said politely, “I think it might be best for me to just go backwards until I reach the point where I started from.”“Yes, it might”, the caterpillar agreed and disappeared up his thread into the foliage.Alone again, Amy looked around. She turned one way, then another. All directions seemed equally familiar and likely. Then the idea occurred to her. Of course she wouldn’t recognise where she’d come from, it was all backwards now; she was coming from the other side! She laughed as she realised what she had to do. If she was to recognise her route into the forest, she’d have to see it from the same direction. It was obvious, she simply had to walk backwards to re-trace her footsteps!Turning her face towards the deeper woodland, Amy tentatively put her best foot back. Yes, she was sure she’d noticed that particular arrangement of branch and leaves on her forward journey.Encouraged she continued, slowly and carefully, on her way.Suddenly, just when Amy was beginning to wonder if she was actually going anywhere at all and whether all leaves and branches really did look rather similar, she felt something move against her ankle. She shuddered, then froze, hoping that whatever it was would go away without eating her. Whatever-it-was wove between her legs and then, giving a little rumbling noise, rubbed against her ankle again. “Hello, Amy, why don’t you stroke me,” purred whatever-it-was. “And what are you doing here anyway? Little girls don’t belong in forests.”“Dinah!” cried a delighted Amy. “You’re here, I knew you would be! Do you know which way is out?”“Well, it all depends on which “out” you want. After all, if you continue long enough, all directions lead out.”“Even backwards?” Amy asked while silently wondering if Dinah might also have befriended a green caterpillar.Ten minutes later, Amy and Dinah were dandling their feet in the cool, shallow water at the edge of the lake, when a familiar voice called “Amy, Amy, where are you!”“Alice!” cried Amy in delight. “I’m here, by the lake, with Dinah!”Alice ran through the meadow and, flinging her book to the ground, threw her arms around her little sister. “Where have you been, I’ve been so worried?”“Well, I fell down a hugely big rabbit hole and …”“Oh really, Amy, don’t be so ridiculous” scoffed Alice. “There could never be a rabbit hole big enough for a person, even a small one like you, to fall down. You’ve just been asleep somewhere haven’t you! And, oh my goodness, you do look a fright!”
Well done, Sarah! Keep writing, everybody. Heather.
