JADG - Spontaneous Equestrianism

In the "one drink" category of the Jane Austen Drinking Game we have men leaping on to or off of horses to relay news of great import. With a clattering of hooves, scattering of gravel, and whinnying of a protesting steed, some impetuous male would be off to deal with some important business, usually in London.

I recently heard on the radio a sad anecdote from the early 1800s. Samuel Morse, a famed painter, was commissioned to paint the portrait of the Marquis de Lafayette, who was visiting in Washington, D.C. Morse traveled from his home in New Haven, Connecticut, over 300 miles, leaving behind his wife who was soon expecting a child. While working on the portrait, a rider arrived with a letter informing him that his wife was "convalescent". He prepared to leave, but not before another letter reported his wife's unexpected death. He rode hard, day and night, but did not arrive home until after her burial. It was then that Morse began to focus on a way that messages could be transmitted more quickly, sparing others such heartbreak. Over the next 20 years, he worked on a method of transferring electromagnetic signals through wires - the telegraph - using an alphabetic system of clicks - the Morse Code. Of course, receiving telegrams has become a symbol of heartbreaking news.

JADG - Conceited Independence

On with the Drinking Game!  No Jane Austen novel is complete without the young woman who just goes off and does something rash, usually ending up with mud-splattered stockings, ruined shoes, or a serious chill that develops into pneumonia. What were you thinking, foolish girl?

An interesting series of Ackermann prints are the Poetical Sketches of Scarborough, etched by the well-known artist Thomas Rowlandson. Scarborough was one of the many popular seaside resorts of the late 18th-early 19th centuries, but Rowlandson's pictures show a place I would avoid completely. If  it's not dumping buckets of rain and blowing up a storm, the sky is gray and heavily overcast. Visitors arrive in the rain, struggle up the beach through strong headwinds, and line up in the drizzle to see tourist attractions. Some misguided girls plan a picnic on a wind-battered beach, only to find themselves caught in a furious thunderstorm. If that wasn't bad enough, Cousin Delphine, always the independent spirit, decides to take off in search of assistance. What good can come of that, Delphine?

The Jane Austen Drinking Game -- Dowries

courtesy of Mostly Water Theatre

After seeing this skit a few years ago, we Austen fans in the family could never see one of her movies without continually calling out categories and raising imaginary glasses to our lips. Ah, the themes of Austen's world come up again and again, instructing us how important and ubiquitous they were in her times, and how much society has changed since then. So let us, and Dolly and Minerva, go through them, shall we?

The whole concept of dowry and bridewealth seems, at very least, degrading to the modern mind, although it continues to be practiced in many cultures around the world. It's interesting to see which cultures have adopted the dowry system (in which the woman brings goods to the man or his family) or the bridewealth system (in which the man brings goods to the woman and her family). It's also horrifying to see how dowries have become the root of terrible violence and abuse of brides, particularly in present-day South Asia. If we can abandon the modern mindset that the woman is being bartered in some fashion, they each have their merits.

In bridewealth cultures, the man must offer the woman's family a substantial amount of property in order to marry her, the rationale behind this being that the family is losing a valuable contributing member. This was common among North American native nations, as was reported by white "mountain men" who took native wives, and were required to come up with hefty gifts of horses, blankets, and such items. It is still common in many parts of Africa, where men must purchase cattle to offer to the woman's father.

The original purpose of a dowry was for her family to give her something to bring into her marriage in order to set up a home and have something to fall back on in case the marriage did not work out. It was also her inheritance, given to her as she left her family, rather than at the death of a parent. In Islam, a woman brings property into the union, but in case of divorce, she is entitled to take it with her. However, as laws or custom concerning women's property throughout the years have not been favorable to women, dowries became the property of the husband to do with whatever he wished. The higher up in society one went, in Regency times as an example, the more mercenary this trade became. The Prince Regent's marriage to Princess Caroline of Brunswick was nothing more than a way to pay off his looming debts with her dowry. In Jane Austen's social class, an inadequate dowry could seriously hamper a girl's prospects of landing a man of an equal or better standing.

The September 1813 issue of Ackermann's Repository has an interesting article on the question of dowries among the wealthy class. The author is definitely against the custom, but his solution (to forbid them altogether) ignores the most obvious remedy, to legislate equitable inheritance and ownership laws.

Ackermann Pets

I've noticed that some of Ackermann's fashion plates show women carrying parrots or small birds, so it must have been a popular thing to own birds. Raising pigeons and doves for food has been a common pastime since who knows when. Early farm management books always include a section on the building and operation of dovecotes. The Repository has pictures of elegant aviaries for the wealthy to build on their estates.

Later pictures of home interiors often include caged birds, probably canaries. I came upon a genealogy website forum where a woman had discovered an ancestor's birth certificate from 1846 which listed the father's occupation as "bird fancier". Since all the men in the family were carpenters, it seemed unlikely that this man was an upper-class person whose main occupation was raising and studying birds. Most likely, he specialized within carpentry in the making of pigeon cages.

Many years ago, I read of a collection of photos of American prairie settlers posing for family photographs in front of their dwellings. Most of the houses were extremely primitive, often sod houses built by first generation pioneers.  In each photo, there was a bird cage. It's fascinating to imagine this family making the very difficult journey westward with this caged bird, but it must have been an important part of "home" to have the chirping and singing of this little bird with them. Interesting that they brought the cage outdoors with them for the photograph, including little Birdie in the family portrait.

Thomas Jefferson in his study, 1803

Here's an interesting painting of Thomas Jefferson in his study at the White House in 1803. Click the link for an interactive study of the photograph, pointing out parts of the room and its decor, telling much about this fascinating man. Notice the stuffed owls on the bookcase.

Dolly and Minerva invite all their bird-loving friends to a bird fanciers' party, with awful results. Having a bird feeder myself, it's obvious that different breeds of birds are not friendly toward each other. Some birds kill and eat others, as people involved in hawking and falconry know.

The Problem With Prints

I spend too much time on the web, browsing for old prints and trying to clean them up digitally. Old paper, even the much superior paper of yesteryear, decays and discolors, and the inks run. I've tried to fix up several lovely old pictures that are marred by the printing from the back of the page, and it's pretty hopeless. Poor Dolly has the same problem with one of her new dresses. I hope she got it on a clearance sale!

Ackermann's Obsession

Rudolph Ackermann was an interesting man with a mechanical mind. Born in Germany in 1764, he hoped to go to university, but was prevented from doing so by lack of money. Instead, he followed his father's trade as a saddle-maker, and eventually set up his own saddle-making and coach-building business. Moving to London in 1795, he began a printing business and art instruction school. Setting up a lithographic press, he sold popular prints, selling artists' materials on the side. He was always tweaking his machines and materials, which resulted in the most lovely prints of his time. You can compare his products with other fashion prints of the day, and Ackermann wins every time. 

Ackermann was fascinated with the latest developments in carriage-building and included the newest vehicles in the Repository, complete with diagrams of the mechanical aspects. He patented a new mechanism for front wheels, the Ackermann Steering Geometry. A look through his furniture selection reveals his interest in mechanical and multi-functional pieces. Desks or dressing tables folded out, revealing all sorts of spaces for filing and storage. Chairs reclined, folded up, rolled on wheels, or included writing surfaces. All that was missing was a cup holder! I can imagine him living today, producing fabulous computer work centers and amazing storage systems. 

1824 dressing table

Dolly and Minerva have bought a new combination lounge chair and writing desk for Father's birthday. I think he could also use it for house calls from the dentist, chiropractor, or massage therapist! Little Horatio has his own use for it.

Regency Furniture

The ugliest piano ever.

A look through Ackermann's furniture prints reveals a style no one has endeavored to keep alive. When we think of 19th century furniture, almost everyone thinks of high Victorian style: a room jam-packed with curvy, velvet-upholstered seating, flowery carpets, four kinds of wallpaper, massive drapery on windows, doors, and mantelpieces, tables, bookcases, and whatnots laden with innumerable bric-a-brac, huge framed pictures hanging from the ceiling rail, and a potted palm desperately reaching for the little sunlight that is allowed into the room.

During Regency times, we have a whole different set of influences. Neoclassical, or French Empire style drew from the model of classical civilizations. Architect Robert Adam went gung-ho for classical in the last quarter of the 18th century, which is why most of American public buildings look like they should be in ancient Rome. Napoleon appropriated the look (along with much of Europe), which developed into what was called French Empire. Light colors were preferred for walls and drapery. Gone was the dark wood of Georgian furniture, and replaced with light-colored woods or painted finishes.Although chairs were often light-weight, in the klismos style, most furniture was heavy and monumental. Stationary pieces were often ornamented with pillar-like legs or carved human or mythical figures. Some of the curves of Rococo style remained, especially in the daybed, still called a recamier, after the painting of Mme. Recamier reclining on one. Mme. Recamier reclined a lot. But all in all, big and straight was the look of the day.

Another hideous piano.

Bottom line -- I can't see anyone going out to buy Ackermann's furniture, even on a big clearance sale. I wonder where it all went.  Years ago, I, with no shame, retrieved a huge chair from neighborhood trash day. It was in awful shape, with rotted upholstery fabric. I tore it all off and found it was stuffed with bags and bags of chaff and many rusted springs. I showed it to an upholsterer who told me to hang on to it, as it was a German chair from the mid-1800s. I've still got it up in the barn, waiting for lots of work. It's just massive. There are lots of similar chairs out there, although I haven't found one quite like it.

Don't you wish everyone had saved these sofas (said no one ever)? Look what some Russians bought! And Hortense de Beauharnais (Empress Josephine's daughter)!

Thanks to 1stdibs for wonderful antique furniture pics!