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Archive for the ‘Old English Customs’ Category

When I hosted a read-along of The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett earlier this fall, we spent time discussing the wonderful personality, character, and symbolism of the robin “who showed the way” to the secret garden. After hearing many intriguing tales that members of the group had heard about robins at Christmas time, I decided to read more for myself. I especially wanted to know why the robin features so often on British Christmas cards, tins, and decorations – especially those that have a more vintage feel.

And, of course, I wanted to know if Robin Redbreast was part of the Christmas season during Jane Austen’s lifetime or if that came about later. What I found was fascinating!

Robins as Symbols of Good Will

If you’ve ever seen a robin, you’ll notice that the friendly brown bird’s breast is more of an orange color than a reddish hue. Apparently, the color orange didn’t originally have a name in the UK. Thus, according to tradition, the robin was named for its “red” breast and it stuck.

Robins in art and literature are always associated with good will and friendliness. They are known to be the gardener’s friend. They are intelligent, happy birds who almost seem as though they are communicating. Robins also symbolize spring, good fortune, new beginnings, and rebirth.

Robins are so generally known as happy, cheerful birds that many field guides even say that the robin’s call sounds like this: “Cheer up! Cheerily! Cheer up! Cheerily!”

Wikipedia Commons, European Robin.

Robins as Guides in Literature

Robins feature throughout British folklore, stories, and classic literature. They are usually bright, friendly, happy, cheerful birds. They are often depicted as clever and intelligent birds.

The robin features in The Secret Garden as Mary Lennox’s first friend in England and the one who shows the way to the door of the mysterious garden and to the key to the locked door:

“You showed me where the key was yesterday,” Mary said. “You ought to show me the door today; but I don’t believe you know!”

The robin flew from his swinging spray of ivy on to the top of the wall and he opened his beak and sang a loud, lovely trill, merely to show off. Nothing in the world is quite as adorably lovely as a robin when he shows off—and they are nearly always doing it.

One of the nice little gusts of wind rushed down the walk, and it was a stronger one than the rest. It was strong enough to wave the branches of the trees, and it was more than strong enough to sway the trailing sprays of untrimmed ivy hanging from the wall. Mary had stepped close to the robin, and suddenly the gust of wind swung aside some loose ivy trails, and more suddenly still she jumped toward it and caught it in her hand. This she did because she had seen something under it—a round knob which had been covered by the leaves hanging over it. It was the knob of a door.

The Secret Garden

In C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia, a robin is a guide once again, helping the Pevensies find their way:

They were all still, wondering what to do next, when Lucy said, “Look! There’s a robin, with such a red breast. It’s the first bird I’ve seen here. I say!—I wonder can birds talk in Narnia? It almost looks as if it wanted to say something to us.” Then she turned to the Robin and said, “Please, can you tell us where Tumnus the Faun has been taken to?” As she said this she took a step towards the bird. It at once hopped away but only as far as to the next tree. There it perched and looked at them very hard as if it understood all they had been saying. Almost without noticing that they had done so, the four children went a step or two nearer to it. At this the Robin flew away again to the next tree and once more looked at them very hard. (You couldn’t have found a robin with a redder chest or a brighter eye.)

“Do you know,” said Lucy, “I really believe he means us to follow him.”

“I’ve an idea he does,” said Susan, “what do you think, Peter?”

“Well, we might as well try it,” answered Peter.

The Robin appeared to understand the matter thoroughly. It kept going from tree to tree, always a few yards ahead of them but always so near that they could easily follow it. In this way it led them on . . .

The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

In fact, robins are so well known as symbols of goodness, when Edmund asks Peter, “How do we know which side that bird is on? Why shouldn’t it be leading us into a trap?” Peter replies, “That’s a nasty idea. Still—a robin you know. They’re good birds in all the stories I’ve ever read. I’m sure a robin wouldn’t be on the wrong side.

Robins and December

Robins in the UK (European Robins) don’t migrate; they stay in England year-round. They are territorial birds and they do not often leave their homes or nesting areas. It’s common to see them out and about during the winter because that is when they begin to look for mates. This is another reason robins have become synonymous with December and winter time.

In The Nature Notes of an Edwardian Lady (1905) by Edith Holden, a journal of watercolor paintings of flowers, plants, birds and butterflies, along with poems and anecdotes, the author has a section devoted to each month of the year. For December, she includes this watercolor of several birds, including a robin. She also includes a poem about robins.

Robins and Christianity

Several old English fables and folk tales link the robin to Christianity. There are many versions of the tales told, but there are two that are quite popular. The first one explains that the robin used to be a plain, brown bird with no red breast, but it went to sing to Jesus when he was dying on the cross. The blood from Jesus’ wounds are said to have stained the bird’s breast, thereby giving it a red breast.

In another tale, the robin was present at the birth of Jesus. It was a cold night in Bethlehem, and the story goes that a brown bird came near and fanned the flames of a small fire to help keep the baby Jesus warm. His breast was scorched by the flames and turned red thereafter.

There are other similar old fables and tales that link robins with Christmas in the Christian tradition. Perhaps you’ve heard one. (If so, please share it in the comments.) There have been many stories told and written since that feature the robin or other friendly birds at Christmas.

Photo by Rachel Dodge, 2022

Robins and Victorian Christmas Cards

If you’ve seen Christmas cards and decorations featuring a robin redbreast, it most likely came about during the Victorian era.

During the mid-1800s in England, Christmas cards became popular. People even began to send Christmas greetings by post. At the time, Victorian postmen wore red coats. Tradition has it that these “red breasted robins” went from house to house and from street to street, delivering season’s greetings and well-wishes.

Moses James Nobbs: (Last of the Mail Coach Guards), Watercolour by H E Brown. C 1890. Courtesy of The Postal Museum.

Ever since the days of these red-breasted mail carriers, robins have been featured on Christmas cards. Many vintage Christmas cards from that era even have drawings of a robin with a letter in its mouth. Robins delivering the mail – even sometimes dressed as mail carriers – has been part of traditional Christmas culture ever since!

Victorian Christmas Card, Ebay.

Robins and Jane Austen

Would Jane Austen have sent Christmas cards or been familiar with the robin red-breast at Christmas time? No, she would not. She definitely would not have sent cards at Christmas. However, she may have been familiar with some of the old tales about the robin. And of course, I’m sure she met many robins on her rambles through the country lanes of Hampshire.

Yet again, the Victorians introduced another beloved Christian tradition and symbol that we’ve all come to enjoy and recognize.

If you’re feeling blue this Christmas or winter, try some bird-watching. It’s such fun and you just might hear a friendly, “Cheer up! Cheerily! Cheer up! Cheerily!”


RACHEL DODGE teaches college English classes, gives talks at libraries, teas, and book clubs, and writes for Jane Austen’s World blog. She is the bestselling author of The Little Women DevotionalThe Anne of Green Gables Devotional and Praying with Jane: 31 Days Through the Prayers of Jane Austen. Now Available: The Secret Garden Devotional! You can visit Rachel online at www.RachelDodge.com.

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I love the idea of a Regency-style Christmas season, complete with gifts, foods, and traditions that Jane Austen and her heroines might have enjoyed. Though Christmas traditions were different during Jane Austen’s time than they are today, as I share in my article about Regency Christmas Traditions, it’s fun to think of creative ideas that can make for a truly Austen-tatious holiday season.

In Persuasion, Austen paints a Christmas scene. It’s one of my favorite festive scenes, and I love to think of ways to recreate it:

On one side was a table occupied by some chattering girls, cutting up silk and gold paper; and on the other were tressels and trays, bending under the weight of brawn and cold pies, where riotous boys were holding high revel; the whole completed by a roaring Christmas fire, which seemed determined to be heard, in spite of all the noise of the others. […] Charles and Mary also came in, of course, during their visit, and Mr Musgrove made a point of paying his respects to Lady Russell, and sat down close to her for ten minutes, talking with a very raised voice, but from the clamour of the children on his knees, generally in vain. It was a fine family-piece.

Persuasion, Jane Austen

Evergreen Decor:

Create your own holiday decorations the way people did during Jane Austen’s time. Trim your windows and home with holly branches and evergreen trimmings.

On Christmas Eve the children laid out the traditional holly branches on the window ledges…

Jane Austen: A Life, Claire Tomalin, p. 4.

For Regency-inspired holiday decorating ideas, check out this Jane Austen’s World article on Regency Era Christmas Evergreen Decorations.

Craft Table with Silver & Gold Paper:

Create a craft station for children and adults to make ornaments or other crafts like these: Christmas Crafts for Kids and Adults from Abbi Kirsten.

On one side was a table occupied by some chattering girls, cutting up silk and gold paper…

Persuasion, Jane Austen

Tressels and Trays:

…on the other were tressels and trays, bending under the weight of brawn and cold pies…

Persuasion, Jane Austen
A pot of simmering wassail, infused with citrus fruit slices and cinnamon sticks. (Wikipedia Commons)

Riotous Games:

…riotous boys were holding high revel…

Persuasion, Jane Austen

A Roaring Fire:

…the whole completed by a roaring Christmas fire, which seemed determined to be heard, in spite of all the noise of the others.

Persuasion, Jane Austen

Jane-Inspired Gifts to Buy

This holiday season, add a little “Jane” to your gift giving! Here are a few shops and lists to peruse:

Austenesque Homemade Gifts

Want to make your own gifts? Check out these creative ideas!

Charitable Giving

Finally, charitable gift giving was a large part of the Regency Christmas season. On the day after Christmas, on St. Stephen’s Day (now called Boxing Day), people gave gifts to charities and to those in need.

The gentry gave gifts to the servants who worked in their homes and those hired to help on their land. Read The History of Boxing Day And How To Celebrate It (Lindsay Schlegel – Verity.com) for some modern-day ideas for ways to celebrate Boxing Day.


Now it’s your turn! What do you like to do around the holidays to make your gifts and get-togethers special? Do you have any Jane Austen traditions this time of year? I enjoy attending one of the local Jane Austen Birthday Teas in my area at this time of year. At home, I love to decorate the house with greenery and bake family recipes! -Rachel

RACHEL DODGE teaches college English classes, gives talks at libraries, teas, and book clubs, and writes for Jane Austen’s World blog and Jane Austen’s Regency World magazine. She is the bestselling author of The Anne of Green Gables Devotional: A Chapter-By-Chapter Companion for Kindred Spirits and Praying with Jane: 31 Days Through the Prayers of Jane Austen. Her newest book The Little Women Devotional is coming this January! You can visit Rachel online at www.RachelDodge.com.

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Jane Austen’s Christmas Day at Godmersham Park, her brother’s estate in the English countryside of Kent, was a merry one. As described by Claire Tomalin in Jane Austen: A Life , “Christmas was celebrated with carols, card games, blindman’s bluff, battledore, bullet pudding and dancing.”

Austen herself described the gaiety and revelry of Christmas in Persuasion, Chapter 14:

On one side was a table occupied by some chattering girls, cutting up silk and gold paper; and on the other were trestles and trays, bending under the weight of brawn and cold pies, where riotous boys were holding high revel; the whole completed by a roaring Christmas fire, which seemed determined to be heard in spite of the noise of the others.”

The games mentioned by Tomalin in her excellent biography of Austen included Hunt the Slipper, which, when played by children, would be fun and boisterous, and when played by adults at a country house gathering could have a naughty connotation, as in the 1802 image in the Hunt the Slipper: A Story, (Peabody Essex Museum).

Game directions for Hunt the Slipper

Hunt the Slipper game directions. (Hunt the Slipper, The American Folk Song Collection,  Kodaly Center, Holy Names University.

Image of Hunt the Slipper by Francesco Bartolozzi, 1787, Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts (GMII): Image in the public domain. Wikimedia

Francesco Bartolozzi, 1787, Pushkin Museum of Fine Arts (GMII): Image in the public domain. Wikimedia

Hunt the Slipper reminds me of musical chairs, only the slipper is passed secretly to the players until the song ends. This simple but fun song/game is still played today. You can view the “Hunt the Slipper” image by Kate Greenaway,  who lived in the last half of the 19th century, then read the 2008 description of the game in The Guardian at this link: click here. The rules over the centuries are remarkably similar.

In her book, Claire Tomalin mentioned a second song and game that the Austen family (and other families of the era) played called “Oranges and Lemons.” References to this traditional song and nursery rhyme appeared as early as the 17th century.

The first published record of Oranges and Lemons dates back to 1744 in Tommy Thumb’s Pretty Song Book, although it’s fair to assume it had been in circulation for some time before then. There is a reference to a square dance with the same name in a 1665 publication…– What is London’s Oranges and Lemons rhyme all about? by Benjamin Till, People Features, London, BBC Home, 13 November, 2014

Till discusses the many meanings of this song. In short, London’s churches, which are located in distinct districts within the city, are identified with certain trades.

References to “pancakes and fritters”, “kettles and pans” and “brick bats and tiles” tell us of bakers, coppersmiths and builders in areas around St Peter Upon Cornhill, St Anne’s and St Giles, Cripplegate respectively.” — Till, BBC Home

A version of the song can be heard on YouTube.

Many versions of this song exist, which makes one wonder which lyrics Jane Austen and her family sang. This is one version:

“Oranges and Lemons”

Two Sticks and Apple,
Ring ye Bells at Whitechapple,
Old Father Bald Pate,
Ring ye Bells Aldgate,
Maids in White Aprons,
Ring ye Bells a St. Catherines,
Oranges and Lemmons,
Ring ye bells at St. Clemens,
When will you pay me,
Ring ye Bells at ye Old Bailey,
When I am Rich,
Ring ye Bells at Fleetditch,
When will that be,
Ring ye Bells at Stepney,
When I am Old,
Ring ye Bells at Pauls

Here is another version, date unknown by me:

Gay go up and gay go down,
To ring the bells of London town.

Oranges and lemons,
Say the bells of St. Clements.

Bull’s eyes and targets,
Say the bells of St. Margret’s.

Brickbats and tiles,
Say the bells of St. Giles’.

Halfpence and farthings,
Say the bells of St. Martin’s.

Pancakes and fritters,
Say the bells of St. Peter’s.

Two sticks and an apple,
Say the bells of Whitechapel.

Pokers and tongs,
Say the bells of St. John’s.

Kettles and pans,
Say the bells of St. Ann’s.

Old Father Baldpate,
Say the slow bells of Aldgate.

You owe me ten shillings,
Say the bells of St. Helen’s.

When will you pay me?
Say the bells of Old Bailey.

When I grow rich,
Say the bells of Shoreditch.

Pray when will that be?
Say the bells of Stepney.

I do not know,
Says the great bell of Bow.

Here comes a candle to light you to bed,
Here comes a chopper to chop off your head.

Chop chop chop chop
The last man’s dead!

This YouTube video of Oranges and Lemons from Gresham College performs the earliest known version of the song by Catherine King. The illustration of the dance for “Oranges and Lemons,” which is copyright free, is by Agnes Rose Bouvier (1842 – 1892).

One can imagine how much fun Aunts Jane and Cassandra must have had singing these popular songs while dancing and playing the games during the Christmas season with their nieces and nephews and the family in general.

As I end this post, Christmas day has nearly come to an end. I wish you all a happy holiday season and New Year’s celebration. May you all find joy, dear readers, in the gifts and love of your family, faith, and friends.

Sources:

Tomalin, Claire, 1999. Jane Austen: A Life. New York, Random House, First Vintage Books Edition.

What is London’s Oranges and Lemons rhyme all about? by Benjamin Till, People Features, London, BBC Home, 13 November, 2014

Other Christmas Posts on this Blog:

Click on this link for posts related to the topic

Games Regency People Play: Blind Man’s Bluff

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Poor Matthew died as Season 3 ended. We all sat in our seats as if dumbstruck, certain that Season 4 would begin with a resounding bang, including our attendance at his funeral and wake. Instead, viewers have been treated to a season of tepidness. Julian Fellowes has taken us on a journey in a Sargasso Sea of his own making, circling around familiar story lines and swirling his characters in a holding pattern until he can find a way to break them out.

Indiana fireworks explosion @Daily Mail

Matthew’s death surprised us and set the stage for cataclysmic changes in the Crawley household. (Image: @Daily Mail)

Where are the high stakes conflicts? Where are the intriguing story lines that kept us on the edge of our seats from week to week? (And, no, the rape scene does not count. Sorry, Julian.)

Ian McKellen (King Lear), William Gaunt (Gloucester)

We were expecting epic upheavals. (Image: Ian McKellen (King Lear), William Gaunt (Gloucester))

Granted that Fellowes was not given enough time by ITV to rest on his laurels and breathe before meeting the next season’s writing deadlines.  Granted that the goings on at the Abbey still provide some of the best TV drama on our schedules, but none of us could have predicted the steady decline in the riveting story lines from earlier seasons. (Before I continue, I must share that my friend, Hillary, who watched each episode with me, thinks that I am being much too harsh on this season, and that my neighbors, whose judgments I trust, found this season to be an improvement over Season 3.)

Including a lack of time to develop his stories and characters, Fellowes’ decision to remove the writers who helped to make Season One a resounding success didn’t help matters. So, let’s examine the state of Season Four’s tepitude (Episodes 3-6 ), shall we? It is 1922, 6 months after Matthew Crawley’s death.

The Crawleys

The earl’s a nice old-fashioned man who gives a tenant farmer’s son a chance to pay back his daddy’s bills, but, then, in Epidsode 6, he’s shipped off to America to help his brother in law. We’ll see him in the Christmas special, but, still, tepid.

Cora is showing more backbone, but she still has no taste in ladies maids. She loves having her grand babies in the house, although Tom is threatening to move himself and baby Sybbie to America. Cora has no control over Rose, or Edith, for that matter. Tepid.

Rose is a flapper who likes to rebel. Her romance with beautiful Jack Ross (love his voice and brilliant white teeth) is, well, predictable.

Violet and Isobel are becoming strange bedfellow friends. Neither woman is given much to do, which has been disappointing. Violet’s been obsessed with petty theft of her things by a new young gardener (Pegg). She has very little proof, but she hates to be wrong and her stubbornness leads us into familiar territory. In the end she shows her good heart by rehiring Pegg, whom she had fired.  Then she gets sick and is nursed back to health by Isobel, whom she slowly starts to accept as a friend. Not a major story line, to be sure. And what happened to the hints of romance between Isobel and Dr. Clarkson in Season 3? He’s not even listed as a major character on PBS’s site for Season 4. Tepid. Tepid. Lame.

Belowstairs

Thomas is still a snake, but one without a riveting story line. He’s lost O’Brien, his ally in nasty schemes, and has been reduced to plotting behind the scenes via Baxter, Cora’s new ladies maid. Baxter’s obviously reluctant to play along. She’s capable and willing (showing others how her sewing machine works), but, frankly, her story line so far is … diddly, insignificant. You get the drift. As for Thomas, he’s been shipped off to America along with the earl, so we can assume that they’ll both show up in the final installment. Lame

Mrs. Hughes is a nice motherly figure with whom all can share their secrets. Mr Carson remains an old-fashioned fatherly figure who keeps everyone in their place. And Mrs. Patmore is anything but a futurist. No change here. Their story lines are predictable, but, in this case, is that a bad thing?

Bates learns of Anna’s rape, relieving her of the guilt of omission but raising her anxiety that he’ll eventually go out and shoot the bastard, which he will, if Bates’s dark ruminations are an indication. “Your husband’s a brooder, and brooders brood.” Every time we hear their “theme”, we are reminded of the dark side to their story line.  (They can never be happy for long. Even their night out is fraught with difficulties, except for Cora’s interventions.)  Episode six ends with an image of Bates casting an evil eye in Mr. Green’s direction, leaving the viewers with a sick feeling that Seasons Two and Three are about to be repeated in the Bates/Anna “woe is us” story line. These star-crossed lovers are still rotating in a Sargasso Sea of repeated plot lines.

The Clueless Chauffeur

In yet another moment of stupidity, Tom Branson beds Edna Braithwaite, the scheming maid who was laid off last season for bedding him in the first place, but who inexplicably returns as O’Brien’s  replacement as Cora’s lady’s maid.  Tom was a chauffeur, right? So what’s to prevent him from driving outside of the village to find nookie at a safe distance? This plot line is stupid to the nth degree. Plus, does anyone really think that we’ve seen the last of Edna? Tom’s entertained the idea of taking himself and baby Sibbie off to America for a new life, which leaves Cora in a tizzy. We do get a whiff of a new romantic interest when Tom attends a political rally in Ripon. Despite many possibilities, Fellowes has poor Tom whirling around a Sargasso Sea of repeated plot lines. Where is the old Tom’s political fire? We miss that.

Edith. Oh, poor, poor Edith.

Edith finally gets her man, but then he disappears into the bowels of poverty-stricken, post World War One Germany. In his absence, she’s worried that she might be pregnant after a night of illicit love. What was Fellowes thinking? This season was Edith’s chance for a breakaway story line that would turn her into a strong and independent woman, instead we merely get … the same old, same old. Edith’s chance at happiness is snatched away when she finds out she’s pregnant and staring at the possibility of carrying a bastard and facing society’s censure. Fellowes missed a major opportunity to elevate Edith’s growth as a character to another level. He has her rotating around a Sargasso Sea of repeated plot lines – that of the loser sister. Disappointing.

Lady Mary’s story arc: a trio of men and a passel of pigs

Mary, Lord Gillingham, Evelyn NapierGood grief. What made the Mary/Matthew romance riveting was the sexual tension between the two characters. They were attracted and repelled at the same time, and viewers sat on the edge of their seats waiting for their fights to end, their first passionate kiss, first reconciliation, first breakup, second reconciliation, second breakup … well, you get the drift.  Their romance was played out against a backdrop of serious, catastrophic events – the sinking of the Titanic and loss of Downton’s heir, the possibility of losing the entire estate due to bad investments, World War One, Matthew’s engagement to another, the influenza epidemic, etc. When the couple finally married we all sighed a collective breath of relief. Aaaah. And then they conceived the heir, George. Aaaah.  But then a truck drove into Matthew’s path and splat! – the end of an epic romance and abrupt end to Season 3.

At the start of Season 4, we were not even privy to his funeral (bad decision), but given just a glimpse of his grave. This season began six  months after Matthew’s death, with Mary walking around the Abbey like a zombie. She’s sad. She’s grieving. She can’t move. Her lower lip is as stiff as the upper. Tepid and predictable.

Then a  childhood friend waltzes in (Lord Tony Gillingham) and she sorta, kinda perks up. No spark. No sexual tension. This new beau is no Matthew.  I was expecting an actor on the order of a Benedict Cumberbatch or Richard Armitage.  What we got instead was Anthony Foyle, a handsome man, to be sure, but one who’s chin I find worrisomely on the weak side. He’s in love with Mary, who’s still in love with Matthew, so, realizing she’s not about to budge, he puts Mary on the spot and says something like:  Before I leave, promise to become my wife. If you do,  I won’t get engaged to Mabel, a woman I don’t love. If you say no,  you know my situation, I must get married. Mary resists. Smart woman. She manages a twinge when she thinks about her lost opportunity, but we suspect it was just indigestion. This lifeless story line can’t compare to the real character conflict offered up in previous seasons.

Yorkshire pigs wallow in mud at the poplar spring animal sanctuary in Poolesville, Maryland/ Photo credit: Wikipedia.

Yorkshire pigs wallow in mud at the poplar spring animal sanctuary in Poolesville, Maryland. Photo credit: Wikipedia.

Then there’s Evelyn Napier’s return. He who is interested in Mary but introduced her to Pamuk. ‘Nuff said. His interest in Mary is still palpable, but she rebuffs him at every turn. Napier never was an interesting character to begin with, except in his role as facilitator. This time he brings a guest in the form of Charles Blake, his boss and a government administrator. Blake, who served during World War I alongside Tony Gillingham, studies whether large estates can adapt and survive in a post-war society. He frankly doubts whether this can be accomplished, especially at the Abbey. Worse, he fails to share Napier’s enthusiasm for Mary, who, to give him credit, comes off as stiff as an ironing board. But there is chemistry between the two, which was sorely lacking with the other two gents. Sparks fly twixt Mary and Blake as they disagree on every topic, and while they might be failing to “connect” socially, they are surely noticing one another.

Image of scrambled eggs @wikimedia

Image of scrambled eggs @wikimedia

The pigs arrive just when Tom is attending a rally in Ripon and no farmer is around to care for them. During an after dinner walk, Blake and Mary discover that the pigs, who are hopefully going to save the Abbey’s bacon, are dehydrated from lack of water. For hours Mary and Blake toil to save them. Mary mired in muck attracts Blake’s interest. They have a mud fight. They laugh. The fact that she can scramble eggs really twirls his cookies. By this time, Mary, a six-month widow, has acquired three suitors. Napier’s obviously out of the running. Gillingham piques her interest now that he’s engaged. But Blake? Well, his indifference-turned-to-admiration is sure to earn a widow’s heart. Or will it?  Isn’t all this romantic intrigue  over Mary while she’s still grieving for Matthew too soon? You decide.

Belowstairs again

Good grief. How sad is the quadrangle Fellowes conconted? Daisy’s angry. Daisy’s sad. Daisy mopes around. All because of Alfred, who aspires to be a chef now that he realizes he can’t have Ivy, a very uninteresting scullery maid. Jimmy’s story line intersects with theirs and it’s … you guessed it, tepid. He’s just another humdrum character. Alfred, who, as he leaves, acknowledges to Daisy that her romantic interest in him will never be returned, says goodbye to them all. Ho-hum. Yawn.

Where’s William’s daddy when you need him, and why hasn’t he come around to visit Daisy and tempt her with the real possibility of running her own farm and becoming a woman of substance? Hints were made all last season, but the result up to Episodes 6  is … nothing. I had imagined that our resourceful Daisy would make a success of herself this season and haggle with Mrs. Patmore over the price of fresh produce. A missed opportunity – big time.

The costumes. Do the 1920’s costumes really compete with Edwardian clothes? Click on my Pinterest boards and decide for yourself. I rather think that the Crawley women look dowdy compared to seasons past.

Reading the PR spin on PBS’s website, one would have thought that our high expectations would have been met. Were they? Have I left out anything important? Do you agree or disagree with my assessment? Feel free to leave your thoughts, pro or con.

Now, let the sparring begin!

Image links and attributions:

Image, Indiana Fireworks Explosion@ Daily Mail

King Lear Image, McKellen.com

Image of Mary, Lord Gillingham and Evelyn Napier

Pigs wallowing in mud, Wikipedia

Scrambled Eggs, Wikimedia

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I love to listen to Fresh Air when I am walking my dog. On March 13, I had a most delightful listen when Terry Gross interviewed Lucy Worsley, the author of If Walls Could Talk: An intimate History of the Home. This interview came almost a year after the book was introduced in the UK. The video series was also shown on BBC last fall. As is often the case, I am among the last to know.

I listened to Terry’s interview with Lucy and was mesmerized. First, a bit about Ms. Worsley and her work:

Lucy Worsley works as the chief curator in several palatial buildings in London, including Kensington Palace, Hampton Court Palace and the Tower of London. In contrast, she lives in what she calls a “normal, boring modern flat.”

The differences between her home and her workplace inspired Worsley to research the history of the home, which she details in her new book If Walls Could Talk. The book answers questions like: Why did the flushing toilet take two centuries to catch on? Why were kitchens cut off from the rest of a home? And did strangers really share beds as recently as a century ago? (Yes, they did.) – If Walls Could Talk

This video provides a perfect introduction to the book:

In Austenonly, Julie Wakefield discusses the evolution of the kitchen.  Click here to read her excellent post, The Georgian Kitchen.

I was struck by the evolution of the bedroom. Until quite recently in historic terms, there were not enough rooms in a house to provide a separate room for sleeping. The bedroom was a crowded and semi-public space. A bed was for sleeping; people had sex elsewhere.  In medieval times, the family often shared their bedroom with people they did not know. It wasn’t until Georgian times that a couple began to expect privacy as they slept. Even then, children were expected to share a bed.

18th century woodcut of a bundling couple.

Parents were realistic about the hot blood coursing through a courting couple’s veins and their need to be together.  Considering that a couple could not marry until they could afford to set up house, the average bride and groom to be had to wait years before they were wedded. Bundling was considered a sensible alternative to an amorous man and woman going off to a shed or field to follow their biological instincts. It was a custom followed by the lower levels (certainly not by the upper classes, where a woman’s chaste reputation was highly prized) and practiced in rural areas of England through the 18th century.

The practice was called “bundling” because the young man and young lady were each fully clothed, each had a separate set of linens, and the couple was usually separated by a board or bolster. Since all was done openly, with family members often helping the young woman by knotting her securely in her clothes, it was assumed that such courtships would remain chaste; and, quite often, they did.

But, youngsters then were no different from youngsters today, and temptation was not always fully resisted. As the numbers of premarital pregnancies rose in the 18th century, some people maintained that bundling was at least partially to blame. And, as homes were gradually being equipped with improved lighting, parlor stoves, and comfortable furniture, bundling gradually faded from practice. By the early 1800’s only couples in the most remote rural areas were still courting beneath a quilt. – The Curious Courtship Practice Known as Bundling

A bundling couple. He lies on top of the bed, she is under the covers. Image @History.org

After a night spent in bed together, the young couple did not have to marry (unless the woman somehow became pregnant). Bundling was a way of getting to know each other better and to see if they were compatible. Ms. Worsley identified the practice as a level of supervision by the family. This practice was not fool-proof, however.

Although sex was theoretically not involved, the practice coincided with a huge increase in premarital pregnancy. By the end of the century, 1/3 of all brides were pregnant by the time they reached the altar: The History of Courtship

Image @Fresh Vintage. Bundling was practiced in the U.S. a long time after the custom died in the U.K. Click on image to enlarge.

As a means of saving money, travelers would opt to share a bed. In some inns, a bundling board was used to separate the strangers. This poem describes bundling in quite some detail. In the U.S., the Amish and Mennonites practiced bundling well into the 20th century and, it is said, even today.

THE BUNDLING BAG
Where might young lovers better be,
Than right at home in bed?
Some giddy youth might care disdain,
And occasionally break the enchanted chain;
But most kept faith, ’tis said.
Some folks think it quite a risk,
But others make calm reflection:
We have men as husbands for our girls to get,
That they then might have naught to fret.
So few youngsters raised objection.
The bundling bag was just the thing
For young folks “on the go;”
It made matters safe, for man and maid;
Old folks retired, quite unafraid.
All these things are truly so. – Little Known Facts about Bundling in the New World, by A. Monroe Aurand, Jr.

Lucy Worsley

More on the topic: If you are as fascinated with this topic as I am, click on the links below to learn more about this custom in both Great Britain and the U.S.

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