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Archive for the ‘Regency Life’ Category

Copyright @ Jane Austen’s World.  Looking back 200 years (the precise date that the formal Regency era began was 1811) we tend to view Jane Austen’s Regency world wearing rose-tinted glasses.

Early 19th century London street scene

Imagine the traffic in London back then:

In July 1811,

it appears that there passed over Blackfriars bridge in one day: 61,069 foot passengers, 533 waggons, 1,502 carts and drays, 990 coaches, 500 gigs and taxed carts, and 822 horses. On the same day, July 1811, there passed over London bridge: 89,640 foot passengers, 1,240 coaches, 485 gigs and taxed carts, 769 waggons, 2,924 carts and drays, and 764 horses.  – Leigh’s new picture of London: or A view of the political, religious, medical, literary, municipal, commercial, and moral state of the British metropolis (Google eBook), 1827, p. 251

Then imagine the animal droppings. I have not the mathematical wherewithal to calculate how much manure and urine these vast numbers of animals traversing London’s streets would generate on an average day, but I do know this: when a horse feels the need to relieve itself, it does so on the spot, releasing the end result of its digestion in a most spectacular fashion.

London, detail of Islington toll gate

And thus London’s streets were littered with dung. Not only did horses generously contribute their feces to London’s throroughfares, but so did the vast number of feral dogs and cats roaming the streets, and the cattle, goats, sheep, pigs, and fowl that were driven to London’s markets. Add on a hot summer’s day the smell of slops that were carelessly tossed out of windows, and the stench of contaminated water, backed-up sewers, over-filled privies, and rotting garbage, and you get the drift. The assault on one’s olfactory nerves must have been overpowering.

The rich had a choice – they left London in droves at the end of the Season to wile away the summer on their country estates. But those who were left behind had to suffer the fetid stench of thousands of evacuations that cooked in the heat and turned into gaseous rot. (I traveled through a similar malodorous area when driving past the slums of Jakarta one summer.)

Streetsweeper assists a lady crossing the street, 1818, after Vernet. Image @Wikimedia.

Rain showers did not help much to relieve the situation. By 1841, when the metropolis was vastly larger, Henry Mayhew calculated that the refuse from butchers that washed into rain water approximated 24,000,000,000 gallons per annum. As for dung, let’s face it, wet poo sticks like glue, and once the offending substance adhered to boots and shoes, the unfortunate wearer would trod the vile stuff into carriages and on door stoops, which is why boot scrapers were essential.

Sunny weather was not much more helpful, for when poo baked and dried on dusty streets, it tended to crumble and turn into dust. A brisk wind would blow odiforous grit under door crevaces and through open windows, landing on furniture, floors, curtains, rugs, and hanging laundry. A person walking along the streets on a blustery day, would have it blown onto their clothes and in their hair. (Let’s not even imagine how much of these offensive granules landed on their faces and inside their mouths and noses! Achoo!)

Carle Vernet, detail of a gust of wind

As for hygienic habits, if English Regency gentlemen felt comfortable urinating in chamberpots in the diningroom after dinner in full view of their companions, one can imagine that they thought nothing of relieving themselves in back alleys. And where were the poor urchins who lived on the streets supposed to “go”? Or the individuals crammed into overcrowded tenements who shared a common privy with hundreds of others and who, due to pressing circumstances, could NOT wait?

If peeing in front of others (left) near food stuffs inside one's home was permissable, one can only imagine the habits of this gentleman outside of a tavern.

There were attempts to combat these continual eliminations and excretions by animals and humans, which will be discussed in the next Fawlty Regency London post. Until next time, gentle reader, I am signing off. I hope I have not offended your tender sensibilities (or activated your gag reflexes) too much. Part 2 of this fascinating series will discuss The Removers, or those who worked tirelessly to keep London smelling as fresh as a daisy (well, at least like day old cat litter).

For those who are equally as fascinated with topics of an earthy nature as I am, here’s another post: Urea, a 17th & 18th Spot Remover, or Pee as a Cleansing Agent

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One of a pair of card racks made of decorated cardboard, French, c. 1820, at Attingham. ©National Trust/Claire Reeves

About two weeks ago, The National Trust asked a question about card racks: How were they used? The organization had acquired a number of beautiful examples of 1820’s card racks from Attingham, an estate in Shropshire.  Laurel Ann from Austenprose referred me to the site and to Emile de Bruijn, who had asked the question. I jumped right in, only to discover how little I (or anyone, really) knew about the topic. There was much lively speculation about these beautiful items.

Card racks are small, only large enough to hold visiting cards or small notes. They were designed to be hung somewhere, perhaps on a wall, or over a fireplace mantle. Many were made from cardboard, yet sturdier porcelain examples exist. Their true purpose is now obscure and has faded from memory.

These facts came out as I researched the topic:

It seems that young ladies decorated these card racks from the turn of the 19th c. until at least 1830. Mary Russel Mitford wrote in Our village: sketches of rural character and scenery, Volume 4, 1830:

With regard to accomplishments she knew what was commonly taught in a country school above twenty years ago, and nothing more: played a little, sang a little, talked a little, indifferent French, painted shells; and roses, not particularly like nature, on card-racks and hand screens; danced admirably; and was the best player at battledore, and shuttlecock, hunt the slipper, and blind man’s buff in the county.” p. 131

French emigres made card racks to earn a living:

During the period when the French emigres were so numerous in this country, he (Rudolph Ackermann) was one of the first to relieve their distress by liberal employment. He had seldom less than fifty nobles priests and ladies engaged in manufacturing screens, card racks, flower stands, and other ornaments.” – English coloured books, 1906, Martin Hardie

Rudolph Ackermann kept on hand in his Repository the supplies ladies needed for making hand made items:

No. 3 is a new embossed gold seed-paper. It is used, in a variety of ways, for ladies’ fancy work — in card-racks, hand and fire-screens, chimney ornaments, boxes, watch–stands and cases, &c. It is manufactured by Mr. S. Solomon, and sold, wholesale and retail, at R. Ackermann’s Repository, No., 101, Strand.” – From The Repository of arts, literature, commerce, manufactures, fashions and politics (1809)

And of course I found a Jane Austen connection. In Persuasion, Mrs. Smith makes pin money by creating hand made items:

One might argue that perhaps Nurse Rooke’s patients themselves are practicing charity by buying the thread-cases, pin-cushions, and card-racks. One finds, however, that they do not do so willingly. Nurse Rooke is skilled not only in invalid care, but also in sales. In the case of Mrs. Wallis, Nurse Rooke’s current invalid, Mrs. Smith says, “‘I mean to make my profit of Mrs. Wallis . . . . She has plenty of money, and I intend she shall buy all the high-priced things I have in hand now’” Thread-cases, Pin-cushions, and Card-racks: Women’s Work in the City in Jane Austen’s Persuasion, Susan E. Jones, Persuasions Online

Ironstone ware card rack. Image @Christie's

More speculation and information about card racks can be found in the comment section of the National Trust post. (I have included only my own findings.) It is fascinating to learn how quickly a once popular pasttime has lost its meaning. If anyone can help the staff at The National Trust, do go over and leave a comment.

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Carlton House was the town house of the Prince Regent for several decades from 1783 until it was demolished forty years later. It faced the south side of Pall Mall, and its gardens abutted St. James’s Park in the St James’s district of London. The location of the house, now replaced by Carlton House Terrace, was a main reason for the creation of John Nash’s ceremonial route from St James’s to Regent’s Park via Regent Street, All Souls, Langham Place and Park Square. Lower Regent Street and Waterloo Place were originally laid out to form the approach to its front entrance

An existing early eighteenth century house had been sold in 1732 to Frederick, Prince of Wales, and son of George I. William Kent had been employed to lay out the garden of which no trace remains. Frederick’s widow, Augusta, enlarged the house, had the entrance gates and porter’s lodge redesigned and a colonnaded porch built. She died in 1772 and for some years the house was unoccupied.

Portrait of The Prince of Wales, later King George IV (1762 – 1830) 1790. John Russell RA

In 1783 George III handed the house over, with £60,000 to refurbish it, to George, Prince of Wales on his coming of age. During the following years the interiors were remodelled and refurnished on a palatial scale.

Carlton House ca.1825. As published in Britton and Pugin, Public Buildings of London. 1825. Patrick has worked on elements from the areas marked with a cross

Initially Sir William Chambers was appointed as architect, but he was quickly replaced by Henry Holland. Both Chambers and Holland were proponents of the French neoclassical style of architecture, and Carlton House would be extremely influential in introducing the Louis XVI style to England.

The Grand Staircase

Holland began working first on the State Apartments along the south (garden) front, the principal reception rooms of the house. Construction commenced in 1784. By the time of his marriage to Mrs Fitzherbert in December 1785, however, construction at Carlton House came to a halt because of the Prince of Wales’ mounting debts. Costs continued to soar and more money had to be found by the Prince…  Continue to read this post on Patrick Baty’s blog.

Inquiring Readers, Patrick Baty is one of the foremost authorities on architectural paint and colour on historic architecture and interiors. These days, the majority of Patrick’s time is spent as a historic paint consultant, sampling paint layers on buildings, bridges and architectural details to produce a forensic history of the decoration from creation to the present day. He has graciously allowed me to link to his post about Carlton House.

Other posts by Patrick Baty on this blog:

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Bandeau: in clothing and fashion, the term means a narrow band of ribbon, velvet, etc., worn round the head. A wide range of materials make up a hair bandeau, including jewels, ribbons, cloth, and flowers. In some cases, a tiara can be said to be an elaborate form of the bandeau. This head band has been popular since the beginning of recorded history, for the decoration is flattering for almost any hair style. The bandeau provides an instant frame for curls, adds color, and can hold unruly hair in place. Bandeaux were quite popular during the Regency era as both formal and informal head wear.

Structured bandeau with feathers. Northanger Abbey (Cassie Stuart and Greg Hicks) 1986

In the image above, Isabella Thorpe’s bandeau resembles an open turban. It play an integral part in the hair design.

Court gown, 1799. This bandeau, worn for a formal event, also holds feathers, as in the above photo.

Bandeau made of ribbon, similar to the illustration below, but with the bow to the side. This is an informal use of a bandeau, which carries enough "weight" to serve as a headcover. Emma (Gwynneth Paltrow and Jeremy Northam) 1996

1812 La Belle Assemblee, evening dress and bandeau, which frames the curls beautifully.

Felicity as Catherine Morland (2007) wears a thin bandeau. This image is inaccurate in that ladies in those days did not venture outdoors without a head cover. We can tell that Isabella (Carey Mulligan) is “fast” for she reveals more of her bosom during the day than is ladylike and wears no hat while strolling through Bath.

Woman wearing a chemise dress (1799) and thin bandeau, and contemplating a hat.

The Countess of Oxford wears a thin ribbon bandeau. Painted by John Hoppner, 1797.


Rolinda Sharples painted a flower bandeau for the lady at front and center of this detail.

Thin satin or silk ribbon bandeau woven into the hair on the righ;, bandeaux made with pearls in the center two images; and gold ornamental combs in the hairstyle on the left.

Bandeau with long lace streamers. 1818 French court dress, La Belle Assemblee.

Bandeaux have been popular throughout the ages, and continue to be so.

Pompeii couple. The woman at left wears a thin bandeau.

Beaded bandeau from the Edwardian Era

Haley Steinfeld, 2011 Oscars

Gallery of Fashion – Women’s bandeaux

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Emma was not inclined to give herself much trouble for his entertainment, and after hard labour of mind, [Lord Osborne] produced the remark of its being a very fine day, and followed it up with the question of:  “Have you been walking this morning?”

Walking dress with blue half boots, 1818. La Belle Assemblee.

“No my lord, we thought it too dirty.” (Unpleasant, stormy.)

“You should wear half boots.” After another pause: “Nothing sets off a neat ankle more than a half boot; nankeen galoshed with black looks very well. Do not you like half boots?”

“Yes; but unless they are so stout as to injure their beauty, they are not fit for country walking.” – Jane Austen, The Watsons

Satin half boots, 1830. Image @Vintage Textile

Ladies shoes were quite delicate in Jane Austen’s day. They were made of satin or soft kid leather, and thin soles with short heels.  Kid leather was a soft and pliable leather made from young goat skin that was often used for slippers (and gloves as well). Shoes made from kid leather could be dyed or embroidered, but the thin flimsy material could barely withstand ordinary wear and tear, much less rough treatment.

Delicate pastel kid shoes with stencilled motif, 1800. Image @Victoria & Albert Museum

During the mid-Regency, tied shoes went out of fashion as lace-up half-boots became popular for outdoor wear. Made of leather or nankeen (a durable natural cotton from China, with a distinct yellow color), these boots were more geared for long walks in the country than the delicate slippers they replaced. But the boots were deceptive, for the leather was quite thin by today’s standards and tore and scuffed easily or were quickly ruined by the elements. As a general rule, thick leather shoes with sturdy wooden soles were worn by laborers. The ruling classes, it was felt, needed no such rough and tumble items.

1795-1815 leather boots. Image @Metropolitan Museum Collection.

Although still a minority in women’s footwear at the beginning of the 19th century, ankle boots would become the dominant style of daytime footwear by the 1830s. This early pair of fashionable boots shoes shows the importance of angular lines, repeated throughout designs and evident from what ever position the boots are viewed. The museum also possesses a similar boot with a small “Italian” heel (2009.300.1487), demonstrating the overlap in styles. The original shoelaces, unlike those now in the boots, would have most likely matched the dark teal color of the leather. – Met Mus collection database

1795-1810, blue European boots. Image @Metropolitan Museum Collection

Boots began to become fashionable for women in the last quarter of the 18th century, but their use was limited primarily to riding and driving. Few pairs survive, and the peculiar wrap-around leg on this example is specific to this period and extremely rare. Although not well-fitted enough to provide a particularly secure fastening to the foot, the wrapped leg may have been intended to provide superior protection from dust and moisture than the standard laced closure. Colored footwear was a favored means of complimenting plain white dresses in the early 19th century, and the dark teal blue color seen here seems to have been particularly favored.- Boots

1812-1820 ladies boots. Image @Victoria & Albert Museum

In the early years of the 19th century boots gradually became acceptable for women. By 1804, half-boots with front lacing and ribbon trimmings, like this pair, had started to appear in fashion illustrations for ‘walking’ or ‘morning’ dress. Hardwearing cottons – the striped uppers are made of cotton jean – became increasingly available and were used as alternatives to leather. Heroines in novels by Jane Austen (1775-1817) are often described wearing footwear of this kind. V&A

Nankeen half boots, 1795-1810. Image @Virginia Review

Toughening Nankeen for rough wear and tear: To Wash- Put a handful of salt into a vessel with a gallon of cold water immerse the nankeenm and let it remain for twenty four hours; then wash it in hot lye without soapm and hang up to dry without wringing it, Nankeen washed in this manner will keep its colour for a long time – The Dictionary of Daily Wants, 1866

1830. Sturdier damask gaiter boots. Image @Vintage Textile

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