TEA & VALENTINES by Guest Blogger Marilyn Clay

My newest Regency-set mystery novel, titled Murder In Mayfair: A Juliette Abbott Regency Mystery, takes place in London in February 1821. The book features my young Regency sleuth Miss Juliette Abbott, who, as you may recall from Murder At Morland Manor, successfully exposed who killed the Morland heir. Now, Juliette is back in London and she and her friend, Miss Cathleen Haworth are preparing to try their hand at selling some of the late Lady Carstairs’ priceless artifacts to a London curiosity dealer . . . but before they can even begin, the likeable gentleman suddenly, and shockingly, turns up dead!



With no funds to hire a Bow Street detective to investigate the crime, Juliette takes on the daunting task of uncovering who killed the handsome man herself. However, even as Juliette searches for clues, she still goes on living. When February 14, Valentine’s Day arrives, she and another young lady friend set off to Gunter’s for tea and a cherry tart to mark the occasion. (I confess I did not know it was accepted practice for young ladies to frequent Gunter’s in one another’s company, meaning it was not necessary they be accompanied by a gentleman; but research bore that out, so off my two female characters went to Gunter’s). The following is a short excerpt from MURDER IN MAYFAIRin which Juliette’s young friend Marianne Chalmers attempts to educate Juliette regarding a few little-known, Valentine’s Day customs:
Marianne soon came tripping down the stairs, a smile on her pretty face. Approaching me in the foyer, she began nattering on about ancient Valentine’s customs she knew of.
“I hope to see a goldfinch today,” she said as we headed toward the carriage at the curb.
“Whatever for?” I inquired, a trifle amused.
“Because it will mean I am to marry a rich man! Were I to see a robin today, it would mean I will marry a sailor.”
I glanced up at the sky as Mr. Gant handed Marianne into the carriage. Upon climbing in after her, I said, “I believe I spotted a sparrow on the wing just now.”
“Oh, I don’t want to look!”
“Why ever not?” I smiled. “What does seeing a sparrow on Valentine’s day mean?”
“That you will marry a poor man. But, of course, it also means you will be very happily wed to your poor man.”
I laughed aloud. “Well, since poor men are in great supply in England, I daresay happy wives must also be quite plentiful.”
“Nonetheless, I would never marry a poor man,” she declared. “That alone would make me quite unhappy.”
I did not reply, but Marianne’s remark told me she knew herself far better than I thought.
As an author, I truly love doing research for my Regency-set novels almost as much as I enjoy writing them. For this new mystery, Murder In Mayfair, I researched Curiosity shops in the early 19th Century, as well as the history of Bow Street Runners, those famous red-vested detectives who rushed to a crime scene in hopes of apprehending the criminal and hauling him (or her) before the magistrate at the Bow Street office to be questioned and perhaps, brought up on charges. Believe me, I learned plenty about Bow Street I did not know before!
Thing is, I usually don’t know until I get deeply into my story, exactly what all I will need to know for the story I’m writing. I try to do my research ahead of time so I will not be drawn away from my story for long periods while I search out the answers to questions that arise as I’m writing, but unexpected things invariably come up, for instance, at the outset, I did not know Juliette’s gentleman friend Mr. Talbot, whom you might recall she met in her previous adventure at Morland Manor, would call and want to take her to tea at a public tea room, so I needed to make sure there actually werepublic tea rooms in the 1820s. Off I went to check it out and did, indeed, learn some fascinating facts. 




The first public tea room in London was located at #216 Strand in 1706 and was opened by Thomas Twining, a popular name even today in the tea industry. In 1787 the Twining Tea Company created what is thought to be the world’s oldest commercial logo and it has been in continuous use ever since. I also learned that when Twining celebrated its 300thanniversary, they introduced a special blend of tea and offered commemorative tea caddies. In addition, Twining is a Royal Warrant  holder, appointed by Her Majesty The Queen. I did not know that.
I do hope you will want to follow Miss Juliette Abbott’s latest sleuthing efforts in Murder In Mayfair. Juliette is off to Margate next. Who can say what fascinating new facts I’ll learn about that seacoast city. Until next time . . . I hope you enjoy Murder In Mayfair.
“I LOVED it! It’s a mystery, not a romance! Juliette is intriguing, endearing, interesting and all around captivating. As a reader, you can’t help but want to take the journey with her as she uncovers clues and solves the mystery. Author Marilyn Clay has penned a refreshing read from a different perspective. Marilyn Clay’s Regency-set mysteries breathe new life into the genre! Well done!!!” -A. L. Hall, Mystery Reviewer.
You’ll find Murder In Mayfair at Amazon, Barnes&Noble, Apple itunes, KOBO, and in Trade paperback.
Best-selling author Marilyn Clay has written numerous novels set during the English Regency period. For sixteen years, she published The Regency Plume, an international newsletter focused on the English Regency. She has also written several historical suspense novels, two set in Colonial American Jamestown in the 1600s; another set in Philadelphia in 1776, and a contemporary murder mystery set in Dallas, Texas. Her latest novels include the first two books of her new Juliette Abbott Regency-set Mystery Series, Murder At Morland Manor and Murder In Mayfair, released in January 2017.  A full-time writer, Marilyn is currently at work on Murder In Margate, #3 in the Juliette Abbott Regency Mystery Series, scheduled for release in August, 2017. You can read more about Marilyn Clay’s novels at Marilyn Clay Author or her Amazon Author Central page.

A ROOM BY ANY OTHER NAME – Those Regency Ladies Are At It Again!

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a Regency era lady with a penchant for making and collecting music must have a designated room for doing so.
 If one studies the floor plans of most stately homes as they appear today, one will find a room designated the music room, even if said room only houses a single instrument. This became common practice in the late nineteenth century, but most of these rooms were once used as parlors or drawing rooms. They were not designed specifically as music rooms.
A drawing room or morning room was often used to display a household’s instruments.
As strange as it seems, with the emphasis on musical accomplishment expected of young ladies beginning in the eighteenth-century and becoming nearly a mania during the Regency era, before the middle of the eighteenth-century the inclusion of a specifically designed and designated music room in house plans for both stately homes and town mansions was rare. Beginning in the 1760’s, the inclusion of this room in plans for new homes and renovations for existing homes became increasingly more common. This indicates a major shift in the role of music in the domestic and social lives of the residents of these homes.

Perhaps one of the first set of house plans which recorded a specific room dedicated to music was drawn by no less a designer than Robert Adam himself. In 1760, as lead architect for the creation of Sir Nathaniel Curzon’s showplace – Kedleston Hall – Adam drew plans for a neoclassical Temple of Art which encompassed an enfilade on one entire side of the entrance hall. It consisted of a music room, a drawing room, and a library. These rooms were so labelled in a catalogue printed in 1769, which was used to guide tourists around the house. This catalogue was reprinted at least four times by 1800 and would have been well-known to any wealthy landowner and / or peer looking to build or renovate a home.

 
The Music Room at Kedleston Hall
An impetus of Adam’s design of this arrangement of rooms was the ability to make available a large audience chamber by opening the three rooms into each other by a series of folding doors. (If you look at the right hand edge of the photo above you will see the door frame leading into the next room.) This arrangement enabled the entire area to be used in featuring a talented family musician or even a professional for a large gathering of people. One must remember Kedleston Hall was primarily a place to house the Curzon family’s extensive collections of art and to entertain on a grand scale. Music, especially that provided by the talented daughters of a household, began to play a great part in these entertainments. (It wasn’t the Miss America Pageant, but it came close. And was so much more refined than auctioning one’s daughter off at Tattersall’s.)
Adam was exceedingly interested in music and went on to design music rooms and even keyboard instrument cases for both town and country homes for a wide range of clients.
Stop by this blog    squarepianos.com/blog.html    to see two posts on the piano and harpsichord cases he designed for Catherine the Great. Yes, that Catherine the Great.
This business of designing a music room which could be closed off for private tutoring and practice and then opened up to other rooms by way of a series of folding doors carried over into Adam’s designs for houses in London as well. Whilst in Town the impetus was partly due to the availability of professional singers and musicians to hire in addition to those entertainments provided by wealthy amateurs; more often it was to show off the musical accomplishments of the women in the household – the male patrons’ wives or daughters. It also provided a place to house the instruments and music collections of these ladies. There can be no doubt the ladies of the house had a great deal to say about the addition of music rooms to the plans for their homes both in the country and in Town.
Adam expanded this practice in the design of the townhouse of Sir Watkin Williams-Wynn at Number 20 St. James Square in 1774. In addition to being the sion of the wealthiest family in Wales (a position this family maintained for 200 years,) Sir Watkin was a great patron of the arts, particularly music. He sponsored so many musical events in his London home he was even the subject of a caricature depicting himself and members of the nobility attending one of the Concerts of Ancient Music, a long running series of concerts he sponsored in London.
The design for Sir Watkin’s townhouse provided a formal dining room on the first floor which opened by way of two-leaf doors leading into the music room. In addition to an exquisite ceiling and music-themed plaster work throughout the music room, Adam also designed the case for the organ gifted to by Sir Watkin to his first wife.
Robert Adam’s design for the front facade of No. 20 St. James Square.
Robert Adam’s design for the Music Room ceiling at No.20 St. James Square
  

This organ was made for the music room of Sir Watkin Williams-Wynn’s house in St James’s Square. The case was designed by Robert Adam in 1773 and made by the carver Robert Ansell. It is the only one of a small group of monumental Adam organ cases to survive. It is crowned by a portrait of Sir Watkin’s favourite composer, Handel. The life-size plaster figures represent Terpsichore, the muse of dance and song, with a lyre, and Euterpe, the muse of lyric poetry and music, with a flute. The organ itself was made at a cost of £250 by John Snetzler, the principal builder of the day. It was altered in 1783, and rebuilt and enlarged in 1864, when it was moved to Wynnstay, the Williams-Wynn house near Wrexham. The colour-scheme, also of 1864, added blue to the original green, white and purple.
It is currently housed in the National Museum of Wales.

Meanwhile, back at Tatton Park and Sledmere, homes to the Sykeses and Egertons, Samuel Wyatt was engaged to work on renovations and additions to both homes. As both masters of these homes sought to please the musical ladies of their households, their hire of Wyatt was a deliberate one. He served as Adam’s assistant at Kedleston Hall. His vision for both Sledmere and Tatton Park included a Music Room with access to larger spaces by way of folding doors, just as Adam had done. After Wyatt’s death in 1806, the projects were taken over by his nephew, Lewis Williams Wyatt. Also during this time, the grandiose, formal styles of Kedleston Hall and even the completed work at Sledmere gave way to a more domestic floor plan. Libraries, drawing rooms, and music rooms were arranged more and more often as a gracious suite of rooms divided by large folding doors to create a sort of large living area. The master of the house in his library was still in sight and sound of the mistress of the house in the drawing room at her embroidery and also within hearing distance of the musical members of the family practicing or playing for the family’s enjoyment. These designs, greatly influenced by those arts thought exclusive to women, were the beginning of a more domestic view of the designs of stately homes. They were still showcases, statements of wealth, but they were becoming, for lack of a better word – homes.
 

Ground plan of the executed design for Tatton Park. Final plans by Lewis William Wyatt, January 1808.

 If you look at the plans above, you will see broken lines in some of the doorways. These are an indication of places where folding doors might be placed to open the various rooms into one large space. A similar arrangement was probably in place at Highclere Castle.
Music Room Highclere Castle. Notice the double doors to the left.
Floor plan of Highclere Castle. Notice the position of the music room as anchor to the drawing room and library.


What does it all mean? Through the collection of music and the subtle need for a pla
ce to display and practice it, women shaped the way music became viewed during the Georgian and Regency eras. Their collections were important enough to be bound and saved and made available to each other. Their musical accomplishments went from a way to keep them occupied, to a badge of distinction, to an art to be admired, to a heritage to be preserved, and finally to an architectural necessity. Not bad for a segment of the population primarily seen as ornamental breeders with little to no say in the way their lives were conducted.

The key to changing a man’s mind is to make it appear to be his idea all along.

More important, music became a large part of the every day life of families during these eras. It grew to be a point of commonality, a source of entertainment and domesticity, all wrapped up in the days and nights and places these families lived their lives.

The Music Room – Brighton Pavilion

 Whether in the splendor of a monument to a king’s excesses or in the manifestation of a superior amateur musician’s desire to make music a part of her family’s lives and legacy…


The far end of the music room at Tatton Park. The bookcase at the end of the room houses a great deal of Elizabeth Sykes Egerton’s music collection.



England and the musical world owes a great debt to those accomplished young ladies of the Georgian and Regency eras whose collections and music rooms are still being explored and studied today. Who knows when or where another great musical treasure will be uncovered next.

  

WATERLOO'S AFTERMATH, PART TWO

DISPOSING OF NAPOLEON

Napoleon and the Garde

After the Battle on the 18th of June, Napoleon tried  unsuccessfully to re-group. Unable to sort out the demoralized and scattered sildiers, he turned over command of his armies to General Soult and fled to Paris. The armies had about 150,000 troops stationed around France, including General Grouchy’s 60,000, who returned to Laon by June 26. Another 175,000 (?) conscripts were in training. There were also General Rapp’s Armee of the Rhine and General Lamarque’s Armee of La Vendee, still in place waiting for the Austrians and Russians. Napoleon wanted to continue the war, but he needed political and financial support. 


Rowlandson on Napoleon’s Legacy



Napoleon was unsuccessful in getting the Chamber of Deputies  — or anybody else except his closest confidantes — to agree to renew the war. 



Marquis de Lafayette, 1790
Lafayette, 1825


The hero of the American Revolution, the Marquis de Lafayette (1757-1834) spoke against Napoleon in the Chamber, in answer to pleas of the disgraced emperor by his brother Lucien Bonaparte.  Lafayette said:

“By what right do you dare accuse the nation of…want of perseverance in the emperor’s interest? The nation has followed him on the fields of Italy, across the sands of Egypt and the plains of Germany, across the frozen deserts of Russia. … The nation has followed him in fifty battles, in his defeats and his victories, and in doing so we have to mourn the blood of three million Frenchmen.”

Lafayette’s views prevailed and Napoleon was rejected.  His attempted abdication in favor of his four-year-old son on June 22 (and by some reports, a failed suicide) was ignored by the Allies.

Marie Louise had fled to Austria with her son.


Fouché, president of the new provisional government, sent word Napoleon should leave Paris. Napoleon stayed for a few days at his late first wife’s chateau, Malmaison, just west of Paris. Here he and Josephine(who died in 1814) had enjoyed happiness and success. How he must have yearned for those days to return.


Malmaison, 2014


The Prussians were approaching by June 29, and he did not want to be captured. When he got word from the provisional government that he was not be issued any safe conduct by Blücher or Wellington, Napoleon decided to travel to the Atlantic coast and find a ship to take him to the United States, where he hoped to find refuge; he arrived in Rochefort on July 3. However, the British blockade, in effect again since his escape from Elba, made that impossible. Instead, he negotiated his surrender to Captain Frederick Maitland aboard the HMS Bellerophon on July 15.

An amusing aside:  Upon boarding the HMS Bellerophon, Napoleon took over the cabin of the Captain and invited him and others to breakfast with him.  Captain Humphrey Senhouse, captain of another ship in the fleet, later wrote to his wife: “I have just returned from dining with Napoleon Bonaparte. Can it be possible?”

Napoleon Aboard the Bellerophon, by Sir Charles Lock Eastlake

Napoleon appealed to the Prince Regent: “the most powerful, the most constant, and the most generous of my foes.” But the Government of Lord Liverpool was not inclined to make any allowances, and Prinny had enough troubles of his own.

Napoleon Aboard the Bellerophon 
by Sir William Quiller Orchardson (1832-1910)


In the meantime, the Allies had entered Paris on July 7, 1815, and successfully arranged for Louis XVIII to take the throne, which he did on July 8.

The Bellerophon sailed to Torbay arriving July 24 and on to Plymouth where Napoleon became a sort of tourist attraction as people hired boats to go out and see him aboard the Bellerophon where he was kept.

Tourists seeking Napoleon aboard the Bellerophon
painting by John James Chalon, 1817  

On August 7, he was transferred to the HMS Northumberland for the voyage to his imprisonment on the Island of St. Helena in the South Atlantic, arriving August 17.

Remoteness of St. Helena in the South Atlantic

St. Helena is more than 1,200 miles from the nearest landmass.  He lived there, until his death on May 5, 1821.

Napoleon on St Helena
The island was small, wind-blown and not particularly pleasant.  The ex-emperor was accompanied by a few companions. The British governor of the island, Sir Hudson Lowe, was determined there would be no second escape from captivity.
Longwood, Napoleon’s residence on St Helena
On St Helena, Napoleon composed his self-congratulatory memoirs. He found excuses in the mistakes of his generals and others for all his defeats and shortcomings. But however shallow these justifications, many of his observations are applauded by the devotees of the cult which has grown around his memory.  He never stopped complaining about the conditions of his captivity, but none of the far-fetched schemes for his rescue ever materialized in the face of the British navy and the remote position of St. Helena.

Death of Napoleon by Carl von Steuben


Napoleon died in 1821 of a stomach ailment, probably cancer.  He was 51 years of age. A similar disease had caused his father’s death at the early age of 40. Napoleon in middle age often complained of stomach problems. Many believe he was poisoned, as large amounts of arsenic were found in his remains. Nothing can be disproven about the poison as arsenic was often found in various ointments and lotions of the day, as well as in the formula for the green inks and dyes in the wallpaper of his living quarters.

He was buried on St. Helena until his remains were returned to France in 1840.
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