Thursday, 8 June 2017

Exciting News!



I am thrilled finally to be able to announce my new project, which has just gone up on Amazon for pre-order!


Honoured I am to be able to reveal I am joining a group of wonderful Regency authors in a fantastic series of full-length novels, called the Heart of a Hero Series!

"What if your favourite superheroes had Regency-era doppelgangers? And what if a group of them were recruited by the Duke of Wellington to gather intelligence for him during the Napoleonic Wars while they protected their own parts of the realm?
You'd get The Heart of a Hero series."


The Missing Duke


 


Blurb

When his father dies, Lord Adam Bateman refuses to succeed to the dukedom which rightly belongs to his missing elder brother. Whilst performing secret and sensitive missions for the Duke of Wellington, he continues his efforts to find his twin. The search has become Adam’s all-consuming passion, leaving no time for affairs of the heart. 

Miss Lucy Mercier is also seeking answers. Her father, a tailor, had been used to make hot air balloons for various noble patrons, including Lord Adam’s sire. Believing the deceased Duke of Wardley had been involved in her papa’s failure to return from the Continent, she takes employment in Lord Adam’s household in order to discover the truth. Then she accompanies him on an important commission for the Allied Army, and finds herself having to guard against a growing attraction for a man she knows she can never have. 

Are the two disappearances connected and will two heads prove better than one in the pursuit of answers? Will Adam and Lucy find true happiness together or will the past – and their different stations – rise to keep them apart?





Sunday, 14 May 2017

A Minstrel's Ballad



Lady Penrhyn
Courtesy Wikimedia Commons


THE Minstrel came from beyond the sea,
And weary with his toil was he;
But wearied more, that in one long year
No news of his lady he could hear.
By land and sea he had wander'd far,
With Hope alone for a guiding star;
Yet had he been so tempest lost,
That oft the guiding star was lost.


Safe from the land, safe from the main,
Again he has reached his native Spain;
And he feels of its sun the blessed glow,
And inhales new life, as its breezes blow.
Yet he will not stop, nor he will not stay,
But onward goes, by night and by day;
Till at length he has reach'd that fateful spot,
Ne'er from the parting hour forgot.


There—and he dare no farther go
To seek what he dies, yet dreads, to know;
And he lingers till the moonlight hour,
When that lady lov'd to sing in her bower.
Oh! will this dazzling sun ne'er fade,
This sky ne'er soften into shade;
Longer than all that came before,
Will never this joyless day be o'er:


Faded, at last the sun's red ray
Softened the sky to cloudless gray;
The longest noon must have its night,—
And o'er the bower the moon rose bright.
Roses are wavering in its beam,
As thro' their foliage zephyrs stream;
Perfumes are floating on the air,
But no sweet song is singing there.


He listens—listens—but in vain,
From that low bower there breathes no strain:
“Yet may she come"—for Hope will stay,
Even till her last star fades away.
“Yet may she come”—no more—no more,—
The dreamings of thy heart be o'er:
Who slumbers the long sleep of rest,
Is dull to the voice she once lov'd best.


A ray within the green bower shone,
It danced upon a funeral stone;
There sculptured was a well-known name,
The name most dear—the same—the same!
That night, and o'er lost hope he mourn'd;
But ere again the hour return'd,
Had parted from his native shore
An exile—to return no more.


Yet, as he left that bower of woe,
That all of his constancy might know,
A ringlet of hair on that grave he bound,
A chain of gold round that pillar he wound.


lsabel D.

From The Literary Gazette, January 1818, Public Domain

Friday, 21 April 2017

Tea ~ The Best Drink of the Day





“Tea – the best drink of the day.” Taken from a 1978 advert, this quote echoes this author’s sentiments very nicely. I suspect a large majority of the UK population, and possibly that of America too, fall into one of two camps – tea drinkers or coffee drinkers (unless they are vampires, of course, because Vampires Don’t Drink Coffee!)


Fresh tea


As a nation, the English are traditionally tea drinkers. It is as much a part of our heritage as roast beef, sausages (bangers) and mash and apple pie. The Chinese have drunk tea for centuries, so we were comparatively late to cotton on, but now we have… it is frequently the turn-to beverage for all occasions, whether celebratory (where a glass of bubbly is not feasible!), consoling or re-energising.


In the sixteenth century, Portuguese traders followed by the Dutch, came across tea in the East Indies. An agent in the East India Company, one ‘Mr. Wickham’ (I am smiling as I type) wrote to an officer of the company, a ‘Mr. Eaton’, asking for ‘a pot of the best Chaw’. (Clarissa Dickson-Wright, A History of English Food). I wonder if this is where the expression ‘char’ comes from, to then be appropriated by those sterling purveyors of our favourite British refreshment, the char lady. Tea was inordinately expensive then and in the reign of James I one pound of leaves was sold for anything from £6-£10, which was a lot of money in those times. By the sixteen-fifties, the healthful properties of Chinese tea ‘…called… by other nations Tay, alias Tee,’ became recognized and was advertised for sale at ‘…the Sultaness Head, a coffee house… by the Royal Exchange, London.’ Meanwhile, at the celebrated Garraway’s Coffee House, situated directly opposite the Exchange in ‘Change Alley, Thomas Garraway, ‘…Tobacconist and Seller and Retailer of tea and coffee…’ was quick to extol the benefits of leaf tea in a pamphlet thought to have been printed in 1660. He stocked various qualities of teas, ranging between sixteen and fifty shillings per pound. (The Mirror of Literature, Amusement and Instruction, 1840.)


Chinese teas


Although it would most likely have been plain wood, Thomas Garraway may well have stocked his shop in a manner not dissimilar to this.

Clarissa Dickson-Wright suggests that Catherine of Braganza, wife of Charles II, being familiar with tea in her native Portugal, was instrumental in popularizing our national drink. Clarissa also gives it as her opinion that the custard tarts to be found in Portuguese cafes are of English origin, since London at the time was famous for both custard and custard tarts. However that may be, tea was here to stay.

An English Tea Party, Van Aken
Courtesy Wikimedia Commons

The first tea, popular in Queen Anne’s reign, was Bohea, a black tea from the Wuiy Hills, Fukien province in China. This term came to mean black teas grown elsewhere. Bohea was generally served in a dish rather than a tea-cup. Originally of the finest quality, it is now considered the lowest. It was soon to be superseded by Hyson tea (a kind of Chinese green tea and the same which was dumped in Boston Harbour).


Boston Tea Party, Nathaniel Currier
Courtesy Wikimedia Commons


Due to its popularity, in 1717 Thomas Twining opened a tea-shop for ladies, the first of its kind, since the coffee houses were strictly the domain of the male half of the population. Not to be outdone, Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens opened a tea-garden in 1720. An English institution was truly born and tea drinking became all the rage. Twinings developed the blend of black teas with added oil of bergamot, now known as Earl Grey, and named for Charles Grey, the 2nd Earl, who was Prime Minister from November 1830 to July 1834.




Black, green and fruit teas








The aristocracy demanded beautiful vessels in which to serve this by-now fashionable drink and that led to the development of the renowned English bone china. Pewter had neither elegance nor refinement enough to suit the wealthy beau monde. Josiah Wedgewood (1730 – 1795) and others began to produce beautiful fine porcelain tea services, as well as novelty items – not much changes, when you think about it. Wedgewood even produced a teapot representing the new modish vegetable, the humble cauliflower. Famous manufactories sprang up, in places such as Derby and Worcester.


Worcester porcelain at Hanbury Hall, Author
To begin with, tea was drunk sweetened and without milk. However, therein began a dilemma which continues to this very day. Fine porcelain cracks under the heat of freshly brewed tea and it is possible this led to the discovery that a little milk poured into the cup first (thus cooling the liquid) reduced this occurrence. When the stronger, less refined teas started appearing in the nineteenth century, the addition of milk became ever more popular. Nevertheless, during Georgian and Regency times, tea was still ridiculously expensive. The duty was astronomical, which led to it being an oft-smuggled commodity along with the (perhaps) more familiar brandy, rum, spices, coffee and silks.






Regency Breakfast Tea Caddy, mahogany


Due to this inordinate cost, China tea was kept in a caddy, locked with a key, so the servants could not either drink it or steal it to sell, although it must be remembered that the sale of used tea leaves was one of the perks. Such items as coffee, tea, sugar and spices were kept in a dry storeroom, usually situated off the housekeeper’s room and under her sole charge. Sugar came in large loaves and had to be cut into cubes or ground with a mortar; this was then kept in a covered bowl in a drawer to prevent spoiling by mice. We really do not know we are born nowadays!

Tea, then, was originally drunk at breakfast or in the drawing room after dinner, when a tray was brought in. This also included coffee and various cakes. Afternoon tea was thought to have been started by Anna, Duchess of Bedford, in the early 1800s. She is said to have been prone to ‘a hollow feeling’ midway through the afternoon. One day, therefore, she invited friends to Woburn Abbey at five o’clock, for a meal which included bread and butter, sandwiches, various sweetmeats and small cakes. Continuing through the summer, the engagement proved so well-attended, on her return to Town she sent out cards for ‘tea and a walking the fields’. Meadows still abounded close to the City in those days. The idea took off, was copied by other hostesses and thus ‘tea time’ was established.

Low or Afternoon tea was traditionally taken by the aristocracy at four o’clock, before the fashionable hour for taking the air in Hyde Park. It consisted of sandwiches with the crusts removed, biscuits and cakes. High tea was more substantial and eaten by those lower down the social scale, between five and six pm. It was more like dinner, with additional bread, scones and cake.


All images public domain unless otherwise stated. 

© Heather King



 

Wednesday, 5 April 2017

HORSES IN ART ~ FREEDOM VERSUS SAFETY





FULL TITLE: THE STABLES AND TWO FAMOUS RUNNING HORSES BELONGING TO HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF BOLTON

Also by James Seymour (1702 – 1752), this well-known picture was painted in 1747. An oil on canvas, it measures 24½” x 29¼” (2’ ½” x 2’ 5¼”) or 62 x 74cm. It is part of the Paul Mellon Collection and currently hangs in the Yale Center for British Art.

The Stables and Two Running Horses
James Seymour

I am lucky enough to possess a print of this painting, given to me by a good friend. It tells us so much about the way horses were kept in Georgian times, but I will get to that later.

From London, James Seymour was the son of James Seymour Snr., a banker, diamond merchant, goldsmith, artist and art dealer. Through him, James Jnr. came into contact with all the foremost artists of the day at the Virtuosi Club of Saint Luke, a gentlemen’s club for the lovers or portrayers of art. Seymour Snr. traded in Mitre Court, Fleet Street, under the sign of the Flower-de-Luce. Seymour Jnr. was basically self-taught, learning from the study of various works in his father’s possession. There are drawings in the British Museum of horses’ heads, which he produced in the style of Van Dyck and Tempesta.

When his father died, James Seymour inherited a fortune and was thus able to indulge his favourite pursuits. He adored horses and racing. He enjoyed the high life… and he enjoyed gambling. In the words of George Vertue, art diarist of the time (Tate website):

Jimmy Seymor... from his infancy had a genius to drawing of Horses (this he pursued with great Spirit set out with all sorts... The darling of his Father run thro some thousands - livd gay high and loosely - horse raceing gameing women &c. country houses. never studied enough to colour or paint well but his necessityes - obliged him to work or starve thus his time passd the latter part of his life in baseness and want of all necessaries and dyed in Town in the lowest circumstances & in debt - Southwark June - 1752. aged about or under 50.

Seymour spent more and more time on his passion for horses. He owned and bred them; he raced them; he drew and painted them. Many sporting and aristocratic gentlemen found his work appealing and he began to be patronized by such men as the Duke of Bolton, Charles Seymour, the 6th Duke of Somerset, and Sir William Jolliffe. James Seymour was renowned for his accurate representations of horses (although, in this painting, the groom is rather less well observed), unlike John Wootton, who was born twenty years earlier, who was often cited as flattering his patrons by exaggerating the size of their equine partners. In some ways, there was a progression of equestrian art, since George Stubbs, born twenty years after Seymour, used scientific research (by dissecting horse carcases) to further his knowledge and professional standing as an artist. Unfortunately, Seymour’s taste for gambling bankrupted him and he was forced to work, yet still died in penury in spite of being well paid by his aristocratic subjects. Nevertheless, he became celebrated in Europe and America and is considered one of the most influential artists of the early sporting school.

There is often a misconception in modern historical fiction, that horses were kept in stables as we would recognize them today – that is, a loose box with half doors. This is not the case. As so beautifully depicted by James Seymour, horses – even ‘famous running [race] horses’ were kept in stalls. They are tethered by log and rope, a simple mechanism of a weight on the end of the lead rein, which passes through a hole in the manger. This allows the horse a certain amount of freedom to move and lie down, but not to turn around or leave the stall. Sometimes, a chain is hooked across the end posts.

Horses have been domesticated for hundreds of years. Their natural habitat is wild, open grassland, where they can see the approach of predators from miles away. It is therefore a testament to their wonderful, giving nature, that they allow us to incarcerate them in small boxes for long periods of time. Yet they are also wise creatures. In the wild, they must forage for food, sometimes travelling miles in the process; suffer extremes of weather; fall prey to predators, disease, malnutrition, lack of water… While not disputing for a moment those dreadful cases of neglect the various animal charities work so hard to prevent, for the most part the domesticated horse is far better off than his wild counterpart.

Consider the shine on the quarters of these two running horses. That is the result of thorough grooming, good feed and exercise. As these two turn towards the groom bringing feed, their eyes are bright; they are alert. The chestnut (the one on the right) would seem to be nickering – making a soft sound of greeting and anticipation. They are rugged up, to keep them warm and protect them from draughts. The stalls are well banked with clean bedding. They have a human servant to provide their every need. As any horse owner knows, if the care is lacking, it shows in the horse’s coat and demeanour. These two are quite content with their lot, even if, like most of us, they have to work for it.
 


© Heather King

Monday, 20 March 2017

High Jinks At Hanbury Hall







For me, one of the joys of being an historical author is visiting stately homes. We are so lucky in the United Kingdom in the number of properties run by the National Trust, English Heritage and other such organizations and thus open to the public. If I can visit a country house in the company of another author or a good friend, then even better. I love first to go for a walk around the grounds with my dog and then take my time absorbing details of architecture, furniture and furnishings.

I write Regency romance and am proud to do so, but I also like to weave real historical detail into the fabric of my stories. If, therefore, I can come across real-life romance and true scandal I can use, then all the better! In few places could you find a more newsworthy and juicy story than at Hanbury Hall.

On St. Patrick’s Day, I met up with lovely Regency author Elizabeth Johns and we spent the afternoon at Hanbury. We went first to view the Ice House, which is set in the grounds of a cottage a short walk from the Hall. Ice Houses vary in design; this one is approached via a low, dark tunnel which I confess I found somewhat claustrophobic even though it was only a few yards long. At the end is a railing, because the tunnel opens into a circular chamber which drops three metres below ground level. It was rather disorientating, looking down into the shaft and with the air temperature considerably cooler than outside, even though it was quite a cold day. Water from a pool was drained into the ice house via a sluice gate and when it had frozen, was removed via the tunnel. It was used all the year round, for drinks, cooling foods, ices, sorbets etcetera. Having seen the base of the chamber, where there is a drainage hole for meltwater, I am very glad I have a fridge!

We then returned to the house for a guided tour, something I had always missed on previous visits. The house dates from 1701, according to the date on the stone plinth over the doorway, but this may be disputed. The house was built by wealthy lawyer Thomas Vernon, although the estate was bought by his grandfather Edward Vernon in 1631. Somehow, Thomas persuaded Court painter Sir James Thornhill (the first English artist to be knighted) to travel into Worcestershire and execute various paintings in the house. Hanbury Hall is justifiably proud of the works, particularly the staircase murals. According to Nikolaus Pevsner, the staircase dates from c. 1710 and can be compared with those at Hampton Court, Drayton and Boughton, both in Northants. This then dates the paintings to that time. The main mural depicts Achilles being found by Odysseus.


Finding of Achilles
Attribution Sjwells53


Intriguingly, although this is ostensibly a painting of classical mythology, Sir James Thornhill was the Court painter and one piece of salacious gossip is wickedly referred to by the artist. The two ladies to the rear and right of the painting were ‘bosom buddies’, you might say. The lady in turquoise, who looks enceinte, is Queen Anne. The little boy peering behind her is Prince William, who suffered from Water on the Brain (Hydrocephalus). The lady on the left is Abigail Masham (née Hill, cousin of Sarah Churchill, Duchess of Marlborough). A former servant, Abigail was brought to Court by Lady Sarah.

Brought up together in the household of the Duke of York, Princess Anne and Sarah Jennings (Jenyns) became the most devoted of friends and companions. They even coined the names Mrs. Morley (Anne) and Mrs. Freeman (Sarah) in order to exchange letters and converse freely on an equal footing. Anne was a bit of a dull, easily coerced personality, while Sarah was forceful, blunt and opinionated. Sarah’s close friendship with and influence over Princess, and later, Queen Anne led to her becoming a most powerful figure of the Court, with a meteoric rise to fame and fortune. She was made Lady of the Bedchamber, among several other titles. This success was in no way hindered by her marriage to John Churchill, Earl of Marlborough and later 1st Duke of Marlborough, a soldier and statesman who rose to Captain-General of the British Army. The Queen described her relationship with Sarah as a ‘most sincere and tender passion’. Unfortunately for their Graces, however, Sarah’s political manoeuvrings eventually tried the patience of even her close friend the Queen and they drifted apart. When she discovered that not only was Abigail occupying apartments in Kensington Palace Sarah considered hers, she was spending two hours a day in privacy with Anne, Sarah was furious. It is suggested she may have instructed her secretary, Arthur Maynwaring, to produce satirical pamphlets and poems proclaiming the ‘sweet service’ and ‘dark Deeds at Night’ that Abigail allegedly provided to Anne the ‘sweet service’ and ‘dark Deeds at Night’ that Abigail allegedly provided to Anne.

Whether or not there was a ‘romantic friendship’ between Anne and Abigail, a rift occurred between the Queen and the Duchess which was never repaired. Sarah was made to resign her offices and the Churchills were dismissed from Court.

So, to return to the painting at Hanbury, Abigail is pointing towards Achilles (centre, with the spear) and smirking. Achilles has the face of Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, and is depicted looking away. Sir James was having a little laugh at their expense. If you now cast your eye to the foreground, dear reader, you will espy two more tongue-in-cheek inclusions. The lady in green is holding a hand glass and in the arms of the seated lady behind her is a King Charles spaniel. Of course, neither of those things existed in Achilles’ time!

No matter her personal preferences, Queen Anne conceived eighteen children. For those of us who love the Georgian and Regency eras, it is perhaps as well none of them lived beyond infancy, or we would not have had the Hanoverian rule which has given us so much in the way of architecture, furniture and literature, not least Jane Austen. Without her, Sir Walter Scott and others, Georgette Heyer would not have created the Regency genre, so loved by readers across the globe, nor would the many wordsmiths writing now have been inspired to bring their own Regency stories to life.

We continued our tour of the ground floor, progressing via the Smoking Room to the Dining Room, once part of Thomas Vernon’s own apartments. In about 1830, a wall was removed and the ceiling aligned to conjoin his withdrawing room and lobby. On the ceiling of the Dining Room (Withdrawing Room) are two more Thornhill paintings, one of the North Wind, Boreas; the second of Apollo and his chariot. My apologies for the quality of the photo.






The pies in the centre of the table are mutton ‘Kit-Kat pyes’, so named for the Kit-Kat Club and the pieman who made them, Christopher Catt. Thomas Vernon was a member of the Kit-Kat Club. (See blog post on the Gentlemen’s Clubs.)





 
Thus we come to the true high jinks associated with Hanbury Hall. It is a piece of Georgian scandal which rocked the higher echelons of Society and is a cracker. Thomas Vernon (1654-1721) had no children and bequeathed the Hall to his second cousin, Bowater Vernon (1683-1735). Although the Will was unsuccessfully disputed by Richard Acherley, husband of Thomas’ sister, Elizabeth and himself a lawyer, Bowater enjoyed the benefits of his inheritance. He spent some of his time at his London residence in New Bond Street and some at Holt Castle in Worcestershire, taking his place at Hanbury in 1733 after the death of Thomas’ widow, Mary Vernon. Bowater died only two years later, following a stroke. He was succeeded by his son, Thomas (1724-71) who also died young and from a stroke. He left one daughter, Emma, who was brought up in London by her mother.


Emma made the acquaintance of one Henry Cecil (1754-1804), both nephew and heir of the 9th Earl of Exeter, incumbent of one of the great stately homes, Burghley House. One cannot help wondering if Lady Vernon had a hand in the marriage, for it was certainly not a love match. How many were in those days? The bride had a portion of £6,000 a year and the groom £3,000.They married in 1776 at St. George’s Chapel, Hanover Square and on removing to Hanbury, set about landscaping the gardens in the style of Capability Brown, who had completed the sweeping vistas of Croome Court, near Pershore (also in Worcestershire) for the Earl of Coventry. They did away with the formal parterre, but thanks to the detailed plans commissioned by Bowater, the National Trust has been able to restore the original gardens. The interior was also substantially remodelled.




Nevertheless, despite a combined fortune of £9,000, the marriage ran into debt and disillusionment. Emma had a mind of her own and was inclined towards wilfulness, while Henry was, on the whole, disinterested and detached. The one child of the union died when but a few weeks old. Possibly as a result of this loss, Emma began to imbibe Madeira and Norris’ Drops, a Georgian cure-all. The latter contained opium, but she may have taken them to combat early symptoms of Consumption.

Then, in 1785, just weeks after his arrival to assist the rector, she fell in love with the new curate from Lichfield, William Sneyd,. They had a passionate affair, conducted over four years. William also suffered from tuberculosis, so did they share the Norris’ Drops along with billets doux? In May1789, with her lover convalescing in Lichfield, Emma finally confessed to her husband. The marriage was in disarray. Henry had had no idea, but it would appear he was more bemused than irate. Emma was deeply in love with William and after much soul-searching, eloped with him whilst on a business trip with Henry to Birmingham. In an ironic twist, the lovers travelled first to Exeter, followed by Devon and thence to London. The Countess acquired lodgings and was visited there by William. Cecil sued Sneyd in 1790 and was awarded £1,000 in compensation.

Deep in debt, Henry shut up Hanbury and assuming a new identity, departed to a village in a remote part of Shropshire to lick his wounds. A year later, he had a nine day sale and sold the contents of Hanbury Hall. While in Shropshire, he met and bigamously married (albeit under his false name of John Jones) the sixteen-year-old daughter of Thomas Hoggins, a local farmer. This was a serious matter at the time and he and Sarah had to undertake a second wedding ceremony in London in October 1791. Known as the Cottage Countess, Sarah never quite settled into her role as the mistress of a large house when Henry succeeded to his uncle’s estates in 1793 and they moved to Burghley.

Following an Act of Parliament, Emma and Henry were divorced in 1791, enabling Emma to marry William. Since he was in poor health, they moved to Lisbon, but he died only two years later. Distraught, Emma came back to England, but she could not mourn for long. A further two years on, in 1795, she married for the third time, to John Phillips, a friend and executor of her second husband. They moved to a house near Bewdley to live retired from Society. However, Fate had not finished with Emma. In 1804 she once more took up residence at Hanbury Hall, following Henry Cecil’s death. Much work on the estate then had to be undertaken, in the way of repairs and rebuilding work to the farms, due to neglect. She had returned to where she belonged and the Vernon name to the family seat.

Emma herself lived at Hanbury until her death in 1818. Whether or not she was happy with John Phillips, we shall never know, but it is said she refused to be buried in the Vernon family vault, instead choosing to be wrapped in a sheet which had once covered William Sneyd, thence to be buried near the Hanbury churchyard wall.

Life is often stranger than fiction, but love did at least triumph in the end!



With ideas buzzing in our heads, Elizabeth and I toured the rooms upstairs, viewing some Worcester and Meissen porcelain, before returning to the car and a rather late picnic lunch!

We didn’t get to the Orangery on this occasion, but one of these days I will post some pictures of that. However, here is a view towards the house along the Cedar Avenue. You can imagine what it must have been like in the house's heyday!





Unless otherwise stated, all images are the property of the author and may not be copied or republished without expressed permission.
 


© Heather King

Tuesday, 28 February 2017

Lemon & Sugar or Something Else?



Pancakes


According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the word pancake comes from late Middle English, a thin, flat cake made of batter, fried in a pan. This suggests the flat batter rounds we still enjoy today were known in the Middle Ages. Further, according to an article in the National Geographic, prehistoric man may well have eaten pancakes. Research suggests, from remains of starchy compounds found on grinding tools from 30,000 years ago, that flour was made from such items as cattails. It further seems possible, from educated guesswork, this flour was mixed with water and baked, perhaps on a hot rock, with or without fat.

“The ancient Greeks and Romans ate pancakes, sweetened with honey; the Elizabethans ate them flavoured with spices, rosewater, sherry, and apples.”

It has long been the tradition in Great Britain to eat several pancakes on Shrove Tuesday, partly to use up foods such as eggs, butter and milk (which would not keep in the days before fridges and freezers!) and partly as a last feast before the fasting decreed by Lent.



In Georgian and Regency times, pancakes were enjoyed by all members of society, from the royal table, where cream-filled crêpes prepared by His Majesty’s French chef tantalized the guests, to the poor road sweeper filling his stomach on flour and water cakes.

There were a host of instructional tomes written for housewives and domestic cooks by retired chefs and housekeepers. In 1774, Hannah Glasse published The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy (Which far exceeds any Thing of the kind yet Published).

To make pancakes
TAKE a quart of milk, heat in six or eight eggs, leaving half the whites out; mix it well till your batter is of a fine thickness. You must observe to mix your flour first with a little milk then' add the rest by degrees; put in two spoonfuls of beaten ginger, a glass of brandy, a little salt; stir all together, make your stew-pan very clean, put in a piece of butter as big as a walnut, then pour in a ladleful of batter, which will make a pancake, moving the pan round that the batter be all over the pan; shake the pan, and when you think that side is enough, toss it; if you can't, tum it cleverly, and when both sides are done, lay it in a dish before the fire, and so do the rest. You must take care they are dry; when you send them to table strew a little sugar over them.

Hannah also gives four recipes (or receipts) ‘To make fine pancakes’. Here are two of them.

TAKE half a pint of cream, half a pint of sack, the yolks of eighteen eggs beat fine, a little salt, half a pound of fine sugar, a little beaten cinnamon, mace, and nutmeg; then put in as much flour as will run thin over the pan, and fry them in fresh butter. -This sort of pancake will not be crisp, but very good.

A quire of paper.
TAKE a pint of cream, six eggs, three spoonfuls of fine flour, three of sack, one of orange-flower water, a little sugar and half a nutmeg grated, half a pound of melted butter almost cold; mingle all well together, and butter the pan for the first pancake; let them run as thin as possible; when they are just coloured they are enough and so do with all the fine pancakes.

The Experienced English Housekeeper, Elizabeth Raffald, gave some different recipes in 1782.

To make Wafer Pancakes:
BEAT four eggs well with two spoonfuls of fine flour, and two of cream, one ounce of loaf sugar, beat and sifted, half a nutmeg grated, put a little cold butter in a clean cloth, and rub your pan well with it, pour in your batter and make it as thin as a wafer, fry it only on one side, put them on a dish, and grate sugar betwixt every pancake, and send them hot to the table.

To make Clary Pancakes
BEAT three eggs with three spoonfuls of fine flour, and a little salt, exceeding well, mix them with a pint of milk, and put lard into your pan; when it is hot, pour in your batter as thin as possible, then lay in your clary leaves, and pour a little more batter thin over them, fry them a fine brown, and serve them up.

To make Tansey Pancakes.
BEAT four eggs, and put to them half a pint of cream, four spoonfuls of flour, and two of fine sugar, beat them a quarter of an hour, then put in one spoonful of the juice of tansey, and two of the juice of spinage with a little grated nutmeg, beat all well together, and fry them in fresh butter: garnish them with quarters of Seville oranges, grate double refined sugar over them, and send them up hot.

To make a pink-coloured Pancake.
BOIL a large beet root tender, and beat it fine in a marble mortar, then add the yolks of four eggs, two spoonfuls of flour, and three spoonfuls of good cream, sweeten it to your taste, and grate in half a nutmeg, and put in a glass of brandy; beat them all together half an hour, fry them in butter, and garnish them with green sweetmeats, preserved apricots, or green sprigs of myrtle.—It is a pretty corner dish for either dinner or supper.

Writing in The Art of Cookery in 1802, John Molland had some interesting advice.

Pancakes.
To half a pound of best white flour sifted add a little salt, grated nutmeg, cream or new milk, and mix them well together; then whisk eight eggs, put them to the above, and beat the mixture for ten minutes till perfectly smooth and light, and let it be of a moderate thickness. When the cakes are to be fried, put a little piece of lard or fresh butter in each frying-pan over a regular fire, and when hot put in the mixture, a sufficient quantity just to cover the bottom of each pan, fry them of a nice colour, and serve them up very hot. Serve with them, likewise, some sifted loaf sugar, pounded cinnamon, and Seville orange, on separate plates.
N. B. Before the frying pans are used let them be prepared with a bit of butter put into each and ' burnt; then wipe them very clean with a dry cloth, as this method prevents the batter from sticking to the pan when frying.

In 1811, John Farley, ‘formerly principal cook at the London Tavern’ published The London Cook and Domestic Housekeepers’ Complete Assistant. It is interesting to note that his recipe for Milk Pancakes would appear to be the same as quoted above from Hannah Glasse, almost word for word. He also includes a recipe for A quire of paper. Guess what? Yes, not quite word for word, but today it would be considered plagiarism without a doubt! However, I have included his rice pancakes as I did not include Hannah’s.

Rice Pancakes
TAKE three spoonsful of flour of rice, and a quart of cream; set it on a slow fire, and keep stirring it till as thick as pap: pour into it half a pound of butter and a nutmeg grated: pour it into an earthern pan, and when cold, stir in three or four spoonsful of flour, a little salt, some sugar, and nine eggs well beaten; mix all well together, and fry them nicely. When cream is not to be had, use new milk, and a spoonful more of the flour of rice.

Happy Pancake Day!


© Heather King

Thursday, 16 February 2017

HORSES IN ART ~ FLYING CHILDERS





THE DUKE OF DEVONSHIRE’S FLYING CHILDERS


One of the most famous racehorses of a generation, this portrait is an oil on canvas, painted by James Seymour (1702 – 1752) circa 1742 and measures 40” x 50” (101.6 x 127 cm). It is part of the Paul Mellon Collection and hangs in the Yale Center for British Art.



The Duke of Devonshire's Flying Childers
 
Flying Childers was a Thoroughbred stallion belonging to the 4th Duke of Devonshire. He was bred in 1715 by Colonel Leonard Childers of Carr House near Doncaster, and sold to the Duke when still young. The colt was sometimes known as the Devonshire Childers or simply Childers. He was by the Darley Arabian out of a mare called Betty Leedes by Careless. Careless (sometimes called Old or Wharton’s Careless) was by the famous grey stallion, Spanker and out of Sister to Leedes by the Leedes' Arabian. The Darley Arabian was, in the main, kept as a private stallion and Betty Leedes was one of the few visiting mares accepted. Flying Childers was – and is still regarded as – one of the fastest horses ever raced. In the History of the British Turf by James Christie Whyte has this to say:


“About the year 1721, Childers ran a trial against Almanzor and the Duke of Rutland's Brown Betty, carrying 9st. 21b. over the Round Course* at Newmarket in six minutes, and 40 seconds; and it was thought that he moved 82 feet and a half in one second of time, which is nearly at the rate of one mile in a minute, a degree of velocity, which no horse has been known to exceed.”

* The Round Course is 3 miles 4 furlongs, and 93 yards in length.

In 2011, the unbeaten Frankel won the 2000 Guineas Classic over the Rowley Mile at Newmarket in a time more than thirty seconds faster than the then course record. This was forty seconds slower than Flying Childers.

He is described by James Whyte as a chestnut horse with part white on his nose and four white socks, although the General Stud Book states he is a bay with a white blaze. If James Seymour’s portrait is accurate, he would certainly appear to have a bay coat. Although the Duke of Devonshire received several offers for the colt, including, it is reputed, one of the horse’s weight in gold, he remained in the Cavendish ownership until his death aged twenty-six and stood at his Grace’s stud at Chatsworth.

The painting shows Flying Childers held by a groom, on Newmarket Heath or a racecourse. The post behind the horse is probably the ‘Rubbing Post’, so-called because after a race, the horses gathered at this point to be rubbed down. The horse has his ears back and is showing the whites of his eyes. This could be taken as a sign of bad temper, but given the surroundings, and the fact that he appears ‘tucked up’ (the line of his belly rises sharply from behind the girth to his hind leg), it suggests to me that he is still ‘wound up’ with the excitement of either racing or training.

Flying Childers’ Arabian heritage is clear for the knowledgeable to see. The painting shows the fine legs, tapered nose, dished face and, although docked after the custom of the time, his tail is raised, suggesting the characteristic high carriage of the Arab. Standing 15.2 hands at the withers, he was tall, not only for a racehorse of the time but also the Arabian breed in general. Purebreds usually stand between 14 and 14.2 hands. He did, however match the height of his sire, himself unusually tall for his breed. 

Although the style of painting could be described as naïve, Seymour has captured the horse’s tension and also a certain wariness on the part of the groom – shown in the way he is holding the reins and the slightly defensive stance, as if he is ready for trouble – although his expression is calm. His charge was a stallion and they can be notoriously difficult to handle. His sire’s original name was ‘Ras el Fedowi’, which translates as ‘The Headstrong One’.

Flying Childers was himself successful at stud, but he was eclipsed (if you will excuse the pun) by his generally-accepted full brother, Bartlett’s Childers, owned by Mr. Bartlett of Nuttle Court near Masham in Yorkshire. Young or Bartlett’s Childers did not race, due to his propensity to bleed from the nose. This gave rise to his other name, Bleeding Childers. However, he was extremely successful at stud, siring several influential horses, not least Marske, sire of the mighty Eclipse, whose top speed, it is claimed, was matched only by Flying Childers.




© Heather King