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There were more than sixty pleasure gardens in the London area by the Mr Deputy Dumpling & Familymid-eighteenth century, with many more to be found in the larger towns or spa towns of England. They grew out of fashionable society’s desire for a sanctuary from city living, places free of the pungent odours, overcrowding and other city hazards where they could promenade and gossip. Good health was also keenly sought and spas and springs became fashionable as their waters were used as a cure for almost everything.

The smallest pleasure gardens were of modest size, usually a public house with an outdoor bowling green and tea garden.

If a spring or spa was discovered and could be claimed to have curative powers, that was a bonus – patrons could enjoy themselves and treat their ailments at the same time. The second, slightly larger variety not only offered tea and bowling, but other entertainments too. Their attractive spaces were larger, incorporating gravelled walks.

The third form of pleasure gardens offered the greatest decadence. Through artful design, the finest pleasure gardens offered entertainment amid a romantic landscape that appeared natural and unspoilt. Visitors could an escape to the pleasurable delights of an exotic, magical world with lantern-lit walks, grottos, triumphal arches, artificial ruins and cascades. Here they could see and be seen by fashionable society and for the first time, entrance was not by invitation according to title or class, but for everyone who could afford the entrance fee. Royalty paraded alongside debutantes and courtesans. Famous figures such as Pepys, Walpole, Dr. Johnson and Admiral Nelson partook of the pleasures of the gardens and attending them became a vital part of the London Season. Here’s more detail on some of the most popular London pleasure gardens:-

Sadler’s Wells 1684-1698

In June 1683, Dick Sadler, surveyor to the King, built a ‘Musik-House’ near a saddlerscountry footpath leading from Clerkenwell to Islington. By chance that summer he had discovered a medieval well in the grounds of his house. The enterprising Mr. Sadler was quick to promote the water’s health-giving properties, believing it could rival the popular spa at Tunbridge Wells. The gardens were extended and Sadler’s Wells soon became a fashionable attraction.

People flocked there to stroll in the gardens and enjoy the entertainment. Jugglers, tumblers, rope-dancers, ballad-singers, wrestlers, stage-fighters, dancing dogs, a tightrope walking monkey and even a singing duck performed there.  It became a theatre after 1698.

Cuper’s Gardens, Lambeth 1686-1753

It was Boydell Cuper, gardener to the Howard family, who first visualized a resort on the south bank of the Thames. Vistors approached from the river via a landing stage (known as Cuper’s Stairs) next to an octagonal gazebo. A lane led down to the entrance of the Gardens, where winding pathways, a central walkway (lined with some of salvaged antiquarian marble statues and busts that Thomas Howard, the Second Earl of Arundel had brought back from his foreign travels eighty years earlier), a bowling green and a lake. It opened in 1691 and in the early days the Gardens were mainly a place to stroll and relax. After Cuper’s death, others developed the gardens, introducing orchestras and firework displays and they soon became popularly known as Cupid’s Gardens, perhaps because of the amorous and dissipated overtones that they became renown for! The resort closed in 1753 and was subsequently bought by a wine and vinegar manufacturer. The National Theatre now stands on roughly the same site.

Marylebone Gardens 1668-1778

After Vauxhall and Ranelagh, Marylebone Gardens was the most famous pleasure garden of the 18th century. Marylebone Gardens originally consisted of two bowling greens adjoining the Rose Tavern. Its size was increased by the acquisition of land in the grounds of Marylebone Manor House (once one of Henry VIII’s hunting lodges) and it became a recognized pleasure garden in 1738, when Daniel Gough, the proprietor of the Rose of Normandy tavern in Marylebone High Street made it a venue for concerts and other entertainments.

An organ was installed, a bandstand built and an admission fee was charged. Many of the foremost musicians and composers of the day, including Handel and Hook performed works at Marylebone Gardens.  Caterer John Trusler, who took over the management circa 1756, presented public breakfasts and dinners and his daughter made the popular Marylebone tarts and cakes. From 1763 to 1768 the Gardens were run by Thomas Lowe, with the musical management undertaken by Samuel Arnold who took over the ownership and management with the violinist Thomas Pinto which continued from 1769 to 1774.

During the height of its popularity, splendid fetes, balls and concerts were given, including one, for the King’s birthday on June 4 1772, which featured a representation of Mount Etna and a grand fireworks display. The Duke of Buckingham held an end of season dinner at Marylebone Gardens, offering the same toast each year: “May as many of us as remain unhanged next spring meet here again.”

Unable to complete with Vauxhall and Ranelagh because it was by then said to cater for the gentry rather than the haut ton, Marylebone Gardens declined and finally closed in 1776. The area was built over in 1778.

Ranelagh Gardens 1741-1803

James Lacey, co-owner and manager of Drury Lane theatre, along with his fellow shareholders, acquired the former grounds of Lord Ranelagh’s house (near the river in Chelsea and next to the Royal Hospital) to create a pleasure resort. After some delays, work began early in 1742 on a ‘noble structure’ which excited great interest and curiosity. The promoters wanted to create something unusual which would allow the resort to be used all year round.

The ‘noble structure’ was the Rotunda. Five hundred and fifty five feet in circumference, one hundred and fifty feet in diameter, the Rotunda was modeled on the Pantheon in Rome but on a larger scale. It held fifty two supper boxes on two floors, each of which was illuminated by lamps and able to accommodate eight people. The domed ceiling was lit by chandeliers. The orchestra was originally intended to be at the centre, but it was moved to the side and a massive central fireplace was installed, around which the crowds could promenade (as can be seen in this 1751 painting by Canaletto). The gardens featured a Great Walk, several other gravel walks, a circular temple, a canal and the Chinese Pavilion, added in 1750.

Horace Walpole, in attendance at the opening of Ranelagh in 1742, wrote: ‘You can’t set your foot without treading on a Prince or Duke of Cumberland. Nobody goes anywere else…My Lord Chesterfield is so fond of it that he says he has ordered all his letters to be delivered thither.’

Ranelagh was famous for its regales of tea or coffee with bread and butter, included in the admission price and also for its Masquerades, for which it became best known. The ‘Grand Jubilee Masquerade in the Venetian Taste’ on 26th April 1749 was described by Walpole as ‘the prettiest spectacle I ever saw; nothing in a fairy tale ever surpassed it.’ For the Ranelagh Regatta and Ball – the social event of 1775 – the Thames became a floating town with over 2,000 pleasure boats offering all manner of entertainments and an octagonal temple was built in the gardens.

Ranelagh fell into decline in the late 1770’s and finally closed its doors in 1803. The organ was sold to Tetbury Church in Gloucestershire and the name only survives in Ranelagh Gardens which borders the modern Chelsea Bridge Road.

If you’d like to know more about Pleasure Gardens, including those in the provinces, I’d recommend Sarah Jane Harding’s excellent book The English Pleasure Garden 1660-1860.

Images:

Mr. Deputy Dumpling & Family enjoying a Summer Afternoon by Robert Dighton 1781
A view of Sadler’s Wells at Islington from ‘The Pleasure Gardens of London by H. A. Rogers 1896
A view of the Orchestra with the Band of Music, the Grand Walk &c’ engraving from a drawing by J. Donowell 1761
The Chinese House, the Rotunda and Company in Masquerade, engraving by T. Bowles 1754

Next time, Vauxhall Gardens….

On a vaguely related 18th century note, I’m keeping everything crossed for a second series of the excellent BBC history drama, Garrow’s Law, which was recently shortlisted for a Royal Television Society award. Tony Marchant is working on scripts, and Mark Pallis, the legal and historical consultant, has said that he’s working on a second series too. Let’s hope we get official confirmation soon.

In the meantime, here’s a great fanvid from YouTube featuring the Garrow’s Law ensemble and set to The Clash’s version of ‘I Fought the Law’.

On Tuesday 2nd March, I attended a lecture lunch at the National Trust Property Killerton in Devon.

killerton

Killerton houses a wonderful costume collection and they have swapped the  entire collection this year to display a collection of elegant dresses over the  last 200 years: 1770’s to 1970’s.

There is such a lot to the lecture, I’m going to do a number of posts about it  over the next week or so. The lecture was given by Shelley Tobin, the curator of the museum for the last 17 year (so she really knows her stuff).

The exhibition opens next Wednesday at Killerton, and will run for about a  year. So why not try and get along? You won’t be disappointed with the  house, gardens and costume museum.

Coco Chanel and her influence on fashion.

Coco_Chanel

Shelley Tobin started by explaining the influence of Coco Chanel on fashion in the 1950’s. Chanel turned on it’s head hundreds of years of fashion advice. Up until Chanel, women bought expensive jewellery and very impractical clothes if they wanted to look elegant, often with uncomfortable undergarments : stays and corsets etc. However, Chanel said:

“Everything about fashion must be practical…Jewellery must be fake.”

For thousands of wealthy women before her, the thought of wearing fake jewels would have made them have a turn.

Chanel’s other ethos was to try and get women to appear to “not age”. (Apparently she also said men hate women who cry!)

Chanel was the creator of the “Little Black Dress”. She said women of any age can wear it.

Sir Bernard and Lady Docker – the Posh and Becks of the 1950’s.

docker1

The Docker’s were photographed wherever they went. Lady Nora Docker was Bernard’s third wife and was a dancer before she married the multi-millionaire head of Daimler.

Lady Docker was a self-styled bottle blonde. She had 1950’s “bling” down to a T and always wore very OTT clothes (though apparently all her jewellery was real.) It was an insult at that time to be compared to Lady Docker.

She was also famous for creating a Daimer car with gold plate instead of chrome bumpers, and with Zebra skin seats (yes, real Zebra skin). She didn’t get the difference between elegant and vulgar, and is proof that wealth doesn’t always mean elegant.

Coming up next time: 1770’s elegance.

Love it or loathe it, St. Valentine’s Day shows no sign of going out of fashion. In fact, it’s increased in popularlity over the years, although many think its Bouguereau_Cupid_and_Psychecommercialisation has gone too far. Despite having an undisputed history of at least 600 years, the origins of St.Valentine’s Day are obscure.

The record really begins with Geoffery Chaucer and his contemporaries in the fourteenth century. Chaucer’s 700 line poem Parlement of the Foules, written sometime between 1376 and 1382, relates how birds choose their mates on St. Valentine’s Day every year. John Gower and Oton de Grandson used the same theme. It’s not clear if these writers invented the idea of birds choosing their mates on that day, but they forged the link between Valentine’s Day and romance, among birds at least. The connection with humans was made not long after. John Lydgate’s poem ‘A Valentine to her that Excelleth All’ (c1440) includes several verses that describe people choosing their love on this day.

Once made, the connection between St. Valentine’s Day and human romance was regularly referred to by poets and playwrights, including Shakespeare, Ben Jonson, John Donne. It also had a place in real people’s lives. On 19 February 1654, Dorothy Osborne wrote to her absent sweetheart, Sir William Temple:

I’ll tell you something that you don’t know, which is, that I am your Valentine and you are mine. I did not think of drawing any, but Mrs. Goldsmith and Jane would need make me write some for them and myself; so I writ down our three names, and for the men, Mr. Fish, James B.,and you. I cut them all equal and made them up myself before they saw them, and because I would owe it wholly to my good fortune, if I were pleased, I made both them choose first that had never seen what was in them, and they left me you. Then I made them choose again for theirs, and my name was left. You cannot imagine how I was delighted with this little accident…. I was not half so pleased with my encounter next morning. I was up early, but with no design of getting another Valentine and going out to walk in my night-clothes and night-gown, I met Mr. Fish going hunting, I think he was; but he stayed to tell me I was his Valentine…

Dorothy and William were married on Christmas Day the same year (fortunately Dorothy didn’t get inflammation of the lungs from wandering around in her night wear in February!)

Samuel Pepys mentions this Valentine custom in his diaries. In contrast to Samuel_Pepysmodern times, the choice of partner was left to fate. At parties and gatherings, names were written on pieces of paper which were drawn at random. People were thus paired up to play at lovers, and were expected to pay their Valentine compliments for the next few days. The men were expected to buy presents, and Pepys, in typical fashion, complained about how much it would cost him.

It was also widely believed that the first eligible person you saw on the morning of Valentine’s Day was your true love. This prompted Elizabeth Pepys to keep her eyes covered for much of the morning in February 1662, to avoid seeing the painters working in the house!

Commercially produced Valentine cards did not appear until the early nineteenth century. They soon became popular and ranged from simple offerings to expensive handcrafted cards made of silk, feathers and lace. Today, as we know, all manner of items are sent in the name romance on Valentine’s Day.

And talking of birds…..I read an interesting article this week on courtship rituals in the animal kingdom. Here are a couple of weird and wacky examples, cited by Mark Fletcher, producer of a BBC wildlife special Bringing up Baby on BBC2 today.

Most male mice are happy with just a short moment of passion before he scoots but a male Californian Mouse is the opposite. He seems a perfect mouse-husband who stays in to help groom and feed his mouse wife, bringing her water, doing the housework and helping to look after their babies. Proof that he’s fallen in love? No, simply that the clever female has drugged him. She produces hormones in her urine that he finds intoxicating. Something in his brain is triggered by the scent, and he becomes her slave, working to exhaustion.

Sounds familiar? It should do, because love is a drug for humans, too. When we fall in love, our brains swim with opioids – a natural intoxicant from the same class of chemical as heroin – and similarly addictive.

The more successful a male Wolf spider is at finding food, the darker his legs become. As proof of his prowess, he holds these legs up in front of a prospective female mate, and makes rumbling noises. You would have thought, therefore, that the female always selects a partner with the darkest legs she can find. But she doesn’t. She judges only on enthusiasm. The more times the male cocks his legs the more alluring he becomes, whatever the colour!

The full article can be read here

Happy St. Valentine’s Day!

St. Valentine's Morning by John Callcott Horsley

St. Valentine’s Morning by John Callcott Horsley

Oil on Canvas 1863

I’ve seen photos of real Victorian men, and mostly, they leave something to be desired (big bushy beards, greased back hair etc). But the picture below, shows they weren’t all ugly. In fact he is rather handsome.

robert cornelius

To find out who he was (ok, his name was Robert Cornelius), and how amazing he was,    follow this link to the Virtual Victorian blog:

http://virtualvictorian.blogspot.com/

Spread the Love …

We’re in that period hurtling up to Valentine’s Day. The shops are full of pink champagne and sickly boxes of chocs and jewellers are in overdrive. Never been a fan of the fourteenth of February myself. Always seen it as a ruthless commercial gesture to charge a fortune for a dinner reservation for two or to make singles feel lonely. This year I feel a bit differently though.

Last month I found out that a dear friend had lost her battle against cancer. She’d fought it with her customary bolshiness and made the absolute most of her last few months with her loved ones. When I got the news, my first thought was – ‘I meant to phone to see how she was this week.’ In all the time I knew her, I never told her how much her friendship meant to me, or how I admired her as a fellow professional.

Do we tell those around us that we love them? Or does life get in the way? Do we need to wait until one day each year to demonstrate our love for our partners, children, friends? To my shame, I tell my dog I love him far more than I do my husband! Suffering from The Great British Reserve, I’m happier showing my affection by cooking a favourite meal or dropping a funny card in the post. My other half is currently trying to rid my beloved but creaky old Dell of a very nasty and insidious virus. He’s showing his love!

In a recent BBC3 documentary, ‘I Believe in Miracles’ Jodie Kidd was told the secret to miracles is love. That’s what made an autistic child communicate. That’s what cured a woman of ovarian cancer. Sadly, love couldn’t provide a miracle for my friend but there’s no harm in spreading some around. It’s a powerful force!

So, perhaps, instead of moaning about the commercial exploitation and forced sentimentality of Valentine’s Day, those amongst us who find it difficult to express love to our nearest and dearest, should take the opportunity to embrace them – and it – padded pink heart shaped cards and all. So get out the chocolates, the pink fizz, and the soppy poetry and go for it!

Or, even better, do it today. Tomorrow might be too late.

4_StValentineSS2

In 1805, Admiral Nelson and his fleet of 27 ships went into action against the The story of HMS Revengecombined French and Spanish forces with the famous signal: ‘England expects that every man will do his duty’. Amid the blood and gore of the ensuing battle, Nelson and every other British sailor surely never expected to encounter a woman. But there was a woman there, and this extraordinary story, found in an obscure 100-year old book of reminiscences about the battle, is recounted in Alexander Stilwell’s book The Story of HMS Revenge.

HMS Revenge was a 74 gun ship launched on 13 April 1805 and she sailed in Collingwood’s column at the Battle of Trafalgar in October the same year. As the battle ended, HMS Revenge took on almost 100 survivors from the French warship Achille, which was badly damaged and on fire. The French sailors had torn off their clothes as they jumped ship in order to help them swim more easily and the Revenge’s purser was ordered to issues clothes for them all.

Paul Nicolas, a lieutentant aboard HMS Belleisle, wrote that there was one exception among the naked French sailors, ‘clothed in an old jacket and trousers, with a dingy handkerchief tied round the head, and exhibiting a face begrimed with smoke and dirt, without shoes, stockings, or shirt, and looking the picture of misery and despair. The appearance of this young person at once attracted my attention and on asking some questions on the subject, I was answered that the prisoner was a woman.’

This revelation must have proved an incredible shock – a 19th century sea battle was the last place one would expect to find a woman. A few stories of women impersonating men appear in records of the Napoleonic wars, but conditions onboard made it almost impossible for a woman to conceal herself on a war ship.

The lieutenant, recalling his chivalrous duties, ‘lost no time in introducing her to my messmates as a female requiring their compassionate attention. The poor creature was almost famished with hunger, having tasted nothing for four-and-twenty hours, consequently she required no persuasion to partake of breakfast.

I then gave her up my cabin and made a collection of all the articles which could be procured to enable her to complete a more suitable wardrobe…Our guest, which we unanimously voted her, appeared to be a very interesting young woman.’

Interesting indeed. Jeanette, it seemed, had convinced the French authorities to allow her to accompany her husband, a sailor on the Achille, into battle. As the Lieutenant recounts, ‘She said she was stationed during the action in the passage of the fore-magazine, to assist in handing up the powder, which employment lasted until the surrender of the ship. When the firing ceased, she ascended to the lower deck and endeavoured to get up to the main deck to search for her husband, but the ladders having been all removed, or shot away. At this time an alarm of fire spread through the ship, so that she could get no assistance. Death from all quarters stared her in the face.

The fire, which soon burnt fiercely, precluded the possibility of her escaping…and she remained wandering to and fro upon the lower deck, among the mangled corpses of the dying and the slain, until the guns from the main deck actually fell through the burnt planks… The poor creature scrambled out of the gun-room port and, by the help of the rudder chains, reached the back of the rudder, where she remained for some time praying that the ship might blow up and thus put a period to her misery. At length the lead which lined the rudder trunk began to melt, and to fall upon her, and her only means of avoiding this was to leap overboard.’

There’s a happy end to Jeanette’s story. Soon after the battle, she discovered ‘in the greatest possible ecstacy’ that her husband had survived and was also a prisoner. The Revenge’s crew organised a collection for her in Gibraltar, when she assured them that ‘the name of our ship would always be remembered by her with the warmest gratitude.’

I can’t imagine what horrors Jeanette must have endured on that day in 1805. What an amazing, courageous lady! Her story may well have inspired Matthew Dubourg’s engraving Anecdote at the Battle of Trafalgar.

The Story of HMS Revenge by Alexander Stilwell is published by Pen & Sword. ISBN 9781844159819

* Painting shown is The Battle of Trafalgar by JMW Turner, oil on canvas 1822-1824. The Achille is shown on fire in the background. Image reproduced from Wikimedia Commons.

diary

The City of Westminster Council have started an exciting internet project this year.

They are publishing a diary from nineteen year old Nathanial Bryceson a wharf clerk. The diary, form 1846 gives an amazing insight into the everyday life of a clerk in London. The diary is being published a day at a time, which is a brilliant idea.

A full introdcution on Nathanial can be found here including what happened to him after 1846 and the diary entries start here.

I’ll be reading this all year, especially as some of the content mentions famous people  and events such as wars, hangings and such, as well as getting an insight into a Victorian man’s life – including his shenanigans with his mistress Ann Fox!

Want feisty heroines? Smouldering men? A good plot and excellent characterisation all set against an atmospheric background? Try a Mary Stewart novel. Those in charge of commissioning television drama, glutted as it is with Jane Austen and Elizabeth Gaskell, take note.

To feed my current King Arthur obsession, I was given Lady Stewart’s Merlin trilogy as a present recently. I’ve never read them but am a huge fan of her writing, especially her lesser-known romantic thrillers.

The ones I particularly enjoy are the books set in Greece; in fact, they were the sole reason I wanted to visit the country. Mary Stewart’s love affair with classical Greece infected me with a desire to visit myself. I still haven’t seen Delphi, as featured in my all time favourite novel of hers: My Brother Michael, but intend to follow in the heroine’s footsteps someday.

41ND9TAWTJL__SL500_AA240_

Most of the early novels wear their romance lightly. In This Rough Magic, the lovely Max and Lucy share a passionate embrace in the sea after rescuing a dolphin but that’s about it. Mary Stewart dabbled with sex in the books she wrote in the sixties but again, it’s all done with the lightest of gloss.

They are hopelessly dated now but that’s their strength. Plucky heroines and dapper heroes dance around with manners straight from a glamorous just post-war Britain flirting with the concept of foreign travel. In one of Mary Stewart’s first novels, Madam, Will You Talk? the heroine Charity is forced into a thrilling car chase across Provence – in an Austin Riley! She’s pursued by the (literally Byronic) ‘hero’ in a plot involving Nazi atrocities, in 1955 a recent occurrence and not a distant memory.

250px-Riley_RMF_2,5-Litre_Saloon_1953

And Mary Stewart does wonderful characters! Fully rounded, literate, plucky heroines, who rely on uncrushable, easily washable man-made fabrics to see them through all sorts of scrapes. She writes some truly marvellous heroes too. Simon in My Brother Michael is my favourite; a man who hardly raises a sweat or an eyebrow but you just know there are deep emotions hidden away. Max in This Rough Magic is a musician with a ‘navvies’ body and the hint of the neurotic about the mouth. Later heroes are beautifully written too – such as the shy country boy, with the intriguing secret, in the hugely engrossing Touch Not the Cat.

Their very dated quality is what I believe would make such wonderful television. Think of those gloriously stylish fifties and sixties clothes and cars! Mary Stewart’s novels always have a very strong sense of place too, whether it’s mainland Greece, Corfu or the Isle of Skye. You can feel the clogging rain of a Scottish island or the searing heat of a Greek one. And you can sense the presence of the old gods amongst the lemon-flowers in the Cretan hillside.

While they are unashamedly populist and entertaining reads, they are literate books too. Featuring quotes from Keats or a discussion on exactly where Shakespeare set The Tempest. My ancient Coronet paperbacks are battered and falling apart from constant re-reading. And each time I do, I find something new – surely a sign of a well-written book?

Go on people who produce telly, make my year, adapt a Mary Stewart novel. It could be the ratings winner of 2010!

There’s a final opportunity tomorrow to see how Christmas would have been Attingham in Winter 004celebrated during the late Georgian period at Attingham Park. I visited the Georgian Christmas Celebration there last Sunday and enjoyed a fabulous afternoon, touring the candlelit rooms and finding out more about Georgian Christmas customs…

Christmas Trees

Christmas trees are often thought to have been introduced by Prince Albert in the 1840s. In fact, the idea has been around much longer, originating from pagan festivals when the qualities of greenery and light were in demand during mid-winter. Earlier Christmas trees (pre-1840s) were much smaller than today and stood on a table. The tree on display at Attingham is a replica of one described at Windsor Castle in 1820:

‘We remember a German of the household of the late Queen Caroline (1768-1821) at Windsor making what he termed a Christmas tree for a juvenile party at Christmas. The Tree was the branch of an evergreen fixed on a board, its boughs bend under the weight of gilt oranges, almonds etc.’

Christmas Pudding

Christmas Pudding or plum pudding is eaten at the end of the Christmas dinner. Christmas pudding originates from a 14th century porridge called ‘frumenty’ that was made of mutton and beef with currants, prunes, spices and wine. By the late 1500’s it slowly changed into a plum pudding as cooks added breadcrumbs, suet and eggs to bind and thicken it. To give it more flavour, they also added beer or spirits. Plum pudding became the customary Christmas dessert around 1650, but in 1664 the Puritans banned it, citing it as a ‘lewd custom’ and describing its rich ingredients as ‘unfit for God-fearing people’. In 1714, King George I re-established it as part of the Christmas meal and by Victorian times, Christmas Puddings had changed into something similar to the ones that are eaten today.

This is the 1714 recipe for King George I’s 9lb (!) Christmas pudding -

pudding3

1 lb of eggs
1 ½ lb of shredded suet
1 lb raisins
1 lb dried plums
1lb mixed peel
1 lb of currants
1 lb sultanas
1 lb flour
1 lb sugar
1 lb breadcrumbs
1 teaspoon mixed spice
½ grated nutmeg
½ pint of milk
½ teaspoon of salt
the juice of a lemon
a large glass of brandy

Let stand for 12 hours

Boil for 8 hours and boil again on Christmas Day for 2 hours

Mince Pies

Mince Pies were not as we know them today – they were originally filled with chicken,  eggs, sugar, raisins, lemons and oranges.

Wassail bowl

This was similar to mulled wine and was made of the ‘Richest and raciest wines, highly spiced and sweetened, with roasting apples bobbing on the surface’

Twelfth Night

Twelfth Night marked the end of the festive season and was the highlight of the Twelfth-Night-Cake-Christmas celebrations in Georgian England. The Twelfth Night ball was one of the grandest of the year and sometimes took the form of a masquerade or fancy dress ball.

The popular custom of choosing a household king or queen on Twelfth Night involved baking a centrepiece Twelfth cake containing a dried bean and a dried pea. The man who found the bean in his slice was elected King for the night; the lady who found the pea, the Queen. Even if they were normally servants, their temporarily exalted position was acknowledged by everyone, including their masters. By the early 19th century, the cake had become very elaborate, with sugar frosting and gilded paper trimmings, often decorated with delicate figures made of plaster of Paris or sugar paste.

The Yule Log

The Yule log was chosen on Christmas Eve. It was wrapped round in hazel twigs and dragged home, to burn in the fireplace for the 12 days of Christmas. A piece of the Yule Log was saved to light the following year’s Yule Log.

The Kissing Bough or Ball

The tradition of kissing under a bunch of foliage is cenkissing boughturies old. By the late 18th century, kissing boughs and balls were common. They were usually made of holly, ivy and rosemary, with mistletoe hanging underneath. Spices, apples, oranges, oat ears, wax dolls, candles or ribbons could also be included.

Attingham in Winter 005

The Attingham Georgian festive extravaganza runs from 19-21st December, from 11am – 4pm. The Tea Room is open from 10.30am – 4pm. For further information contact Attingham Park.

As well as family-themed activities, you can meet Father Christmas and Attingham’s Regency Dandy – I did, and very charming he was too…. ;0)

A very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to everyone and I’ll sign off for now with a link to one of my favourite pieces of festive music, Mike Oldfield’s version of In Dulci Jublio. :0)

Georgia Hill’s debut novel Pursued by Love is out on December 1st.

Read an interview with her about her book and her favourite Darcy, over on www.escapewithabook.com

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