Sedan Chairs

Sedan chairs, also called litters, are enclosed seats carried on poles that have been used for centuries, or at least as early as the Eyptian Empire. Sedan chairs were introduced to Britain from Spain - before leaving Madrid in 1623 to return to England, the Prince of Wales, later Charles I, was given a gift by the Prime Minister that included "three sedan chairs of curious workmanship." He later gave two of these chairs to the Duke of Buckingham, who used them in the streets of London and prompted outrage for "reducing free born Englishmen to the condition of beasts of burden."

Benjamin Franklin in his sedan chair

Sedan chair made for Queen Maria Luisa of Parma circa 1795

A late 18th century French sedan chair - click here to see the inside

By 1726 there were 400 sedan chairs registered in London. They were used in Edinburgh until the 1860's.

Above is a modern day Chinese sedan chair, traditionally used to carry a bride to her wedding. There is also a foundation in Hong Kong that raises money through their Sedan Chair Charities Fund and annual sedan chair races. Come to that, there are even sedan chair races still going on in England.

You can see examples of sedan chairs in museums throughout Great Britain:

 

From the Tenby Museum and Art Gallery 

From the Ulster Folk and Transport Museum

From the Museum of Leathercraft

From the Victoria and Albert Museum

And coming full circle, the sedan chair of Queen Hetepheres from the Egyptian Museum, Cairo 

Captain Gronow on His School Friend Shelley

Rees Howell Gronow (1794-1865) wrote his Reminiscences late in his life.  He knew many leading figures of his era.  Below are his comments on Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822), one of the most famous of the Romantic Era English Poets. 

Rees Gronow

SHELLEY

Shelley, the poet, cut off at so early an age; just when his great poetical talents had been matured by study and reflection, and when he probably would have produced some great work, was my friend and associate at Eton. He was a boy of studious and meditative habits, averse to all games and sports, and a great reader of novels and romances.  He was a thin, slight lad, with remarkably lustrous eyes, fine hair, and a very peculiar shrill voice and laugh. His most intimate friend at Eton was a boy named Price, who was considered one of the best classical scholars amongst us.  At his tutor, Bethell's, where he lodged, he attempted many mechanical and scientific experiments.  By the aid of a common tinker, he contrived to make something like a steam-engine, which, unfortunately, one day suddenly exploded; to the great consternation of the neighbourhood and to the imminent danger of a severe flogging from Dr. Reate.

Percy Byssche Shelley

Soon after leaving school, and about the year 1810, he came, in a state of great distress and difficulty, to Swansea, when we had an opportunity of rendering him a service; but we never could ascertain what had brought him to Wales, though we had reason to suppose it was some mysterious affaire du coeur.

 The last time I saw Shelley was at Genoa, in 1822, sitting on the sea-shore, and, when I came upon him, making a true poet's meal of bread and fruit; He at once recognized me, jumped up, and appearing greatly delighted, exclaimed, "Here you see me at my old Eton habits; but instead of the green fields for a couch, I have here the shores of the Mediterranean. It is very grand, and very romantic.  I only wish I had some of the excellent brown bread and butter we used to get at Spiers's: but I was never very fastidious in my diet."  Then he continued, in a wild and eccentric manner: "Gronow, do you remember the beautiful Martha, the Hebe of Spiers's?  She was the loveliest girl I

ever saw, and I loved her to distraction."

 Shelley was looking careworn and ill; and, as usual, was very carelessly dressed.  He had on a large and wide straw hat, his long brown hair, already streaked with grey, flowing in large masses from under it, and presented a wild and strange appearance.

Lord Byron

During the time I sat by his side he asked many questions about myself and many of our schoolfellows; but on my questioning him in turn about himself, his way of life, and his future plans, he avoided entering into any explanation: indeed, he gave such short and evasive answers, that, thinking my inquisitiveness displeased him, I rose to take my leave.  I observed that I had not been lucky enough to see Lord Byron in any of my rambles, to which he replied, "Byron is living at his villa, surrounded by his court of sycophants; but I shall shortly see him at Leghorn." We then shook hands.  I never saw him again; for he was drowned shortly afterwards, with his friend, Captain Williams, and his body was washed ashore near Via Reggio.  Every one is familiar with the romantic scene which took place on the sea-shore when the remains of my poor friend and Captain Williams were burnt, in the presence of Byron and Trelawney, in the Roman fashion. His ashes were gathered into an urn, and buried in the Protestant cemetery at Rome.  He was but twenty-nine years of age at his death.

The Funeral of Shelley

Notes from Victoria: This painting by Louis Edouard Fournier, completed in 1889 obviously long after the event, shows Edward Trelawney and Byron at the cremation of Shelley's remains on the shore.  Also pictured are Mary Shelley, second wife of Percy, kneeling at the far left, and Leigh Hunt, though neither of them actually attended. One of several blue plaques honoring Shelley, the version below can be found at 15, Poland Street, WI, London, between Oxford Circus and Soho Square; Shelley resided here after he left Oxford.

A Look at The Look of Love

 A guest blog by Jo Manning

Jo Manning (with Lily)

The LOOK OF LOVE exhibit has opened in Birmingham, Alabama, at the Birmingham Museum of Art.  I was fortunate enough to be there for the opening and the first couple of days of the show, which runs until the end of June.  For museum information, click here.

Dr David  and Nan Skier

Before discussing this spectacular exhibit – the first of its kind in the world – and one that, with its accompanying catalog, sets the standard for research on this unique portrait miniature-cum-jewelry that has been, up until now, so little known in either the art or jewelry worlds, some backstory…

I often tell people that one never knows, after one’s book is published and sent out into the marketplace, who will see it, who will be affected by it, and what repercussions it will generate.  My biography of Grace Dalrymple Elliott, a notorious courtesan of the late 18^th-early 19^th centuries, was sold in bookstores and museum gift shops. 

At one of the latter, the Bass Museum of Art’s gift shop in Miami Beach, Florida, it was seen by Dr David Skier, an eye surgeon from Birmingham, who thought his wife would enjoy it. One of the things he noticed in the book was a sidebar on Lover’s Eyes -- eye miniatures – with a photo of a ring in the “collection of the author”.

This was of great interest to Dr Skier because he and his wife Nan had quietly been collecting these beautiful objects for many years and had accumulated some 70+ of them. (They now own 100+ of these miniatures.)  Assuming that I had a collection of these objects, they wrote to my publisher Simon & Schuster, asking for my contact information.  The publisher referred them to my agent, Jenny Bent of the Bent Agency, and she contacted me.  I responded promptly with the news that, no, I owned just the one ring, and that I’d become interested in them after seeing the eye miniatures in the collection of my writing colleague Candice Hern, who owned several lovely brooches.  I was also entranced by the story of how they came about and their subsequent history.

Best Exotic Marigold Hotel

Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, the movie, opens in the UK and Ireland 24 February. Those in the States will have to wait until summer to see the film, although the novel will be available in stores in March.

The movie, directed by John Madden, sees a group of retirement age Brits move to India to see out their elderly years in colorful Jaipur and take up residence in what they believe is a newly restored hotel. Less luxurious than its advertisements, the Marigold Hotel nevertheless slowly begins to charm in unexpected ways. Dev Patel, of "Slumdog Millionaire" fame, plays the guy who entices them to take the adventure and the film also features Dame Judi Dench, Dame Maggie Smith, Penelope Wilton and Bill Nighy.

Deborah Moggach is the author of sixteen successful novels, including the bestselling Tulip Fever, and two collections of stories. The book on which this film is based was originally titled These Foolish Things. Her screenplays include Pride and Prejudice, which was nominated for a BAFTA. She lives in North London.

You can watch the movie trailer here.

And Now for Something Completely Different...

Victoria here, with a completely off-topic post. It’s completely shameless self promotion as a matter of fact.

My first novel, originally published in 1983, is now available as an e-book on Kindle, Nook and Smashwords. BirthRights: A Dangerous Brew is a family saga about three generations of  Milwaukee, Wisconsin, brewers – of beer, not baseball players. Starting in 1870, the novel concludes in 1920 as prohibition and the Volstead Act take over the nation, ending the era of the great breweries until 1933.

Pabst Brewing Company

Milwaukee was first settled by New Yorkers and New Englanders, known as Yankees.  They followed the explorers like Father Marquette and the French fur-traders like one of the city’s founders, Solomon Juneau.  By the 1840’s, however, the city attracted thousands of German emigrants and took on a distinctly German flavor for decades.  Many breweries filled the thirst of the new residents, with more coming on every ship that landed at the Lake Michigan waterfront.

The authors in the Pabst Brewhouse, 1983

In the early 1980’s, my co-author, Reva Shovers, and I were inspired to write a book when we when couldn’t find much that interested us on bookstore shelves.  That first attempt will never see the light of day, but we sort of taught ourselves what to do, with the help of our agent and many others. Although he probably despaired of our eventual success, Al Zuckerman suggested we write a story about the great brewing fortunes in Milwaukee. 

For Our Fellow Bibliophiles

The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr. Morris Lessmore

*Thanks to Nina Dee (Davis) for bringing this to our attention and
congratulations to the producers on winning an Oscar!

By the way, there's an interactive app for this, too!

Death of Lady Jersey in 1867

The March 1867 issue of The Gentleman’s Magazine carried an obituary for Sarah Sophia Fane Child-Villiers, dowager Countess of Jersey:

January 26 At 38 Berkeley Square, suddenly by the rupture of a blood vessel, aged 81, Sarah Sophia, Dowager Countess of Jersey.

            Her ladyship was the eldest and only surviving child of John, 10^th Earl of Westmorland, by Anne, only daughter and heir of Mr. Robert Child. She was born March 4, 1785 and in May 1804 she married George, Viscount Villiers, who in the following year succeeded his father the 5^th Earl of Jersey, and by whom she had a family of four sons and three daughters. Her eldest son, George Augustus Frederick, died three weeks after the death of his father in 1859; and was the father of Victor, 7^th Earl; Augustus John died at Rome in 1847; Frederick married to Lady Elizabeth, daughter of the 8^th Earl of Athlonel (title extinct); Francis John died in May 1862; Lady Sarah, married to Prince Nicholas Esterhazy, son of his Excellency the late Prince, many years an ambassador to the Court of St. James’s, from Austria, died at Torquay in November 1853; Lady Clementia died unmarried in December 1858, and Lady Adela, wife of Lieut. Colonel Charles Ibbetson, who died suddenly in September 1860.

Osterley Park, Greater London

            The late countess, on the death of her maternal grandfather, Mr. Robert Child, the banker, by his will succeeded to his large property, both real and personal. Owing to her mother having eloped with the Earl of Westmorland, Mr. Child carried out his determination that not a shilling of his property should go to the male heirs of the earldom, and he bequeathed his large and valuable property to the county of Middlesex and his interest in the old banking house at Temple Bar to the countess. The deceased Lady Jersey was kind and charitable to the poor, but studiously avoided publicity in doing good to those beneath her. Many indigent families will regret her death, as well as an extensive circle of friends.

Naturalist's Diary for March

From the Times Telescope, an annual almanac, here is the entry for March, 1826, with a few quite optimistic pictures:

March, though the hours of promise with bright ray

May gild thy noons, yet, on wild pinion borne,
Loud winds more often rudely wake thy morn,
And harshly hymn they early-closing day.

            The cutting blasts of March, so trying to the invalid, are equally injurious to the progress of vegetation; and the ‘sweet flowers’ are compelled to await the smiles and tears of gentle April to encourage their growth, and to bring them to perfection. Some more bold than the rest, who dare to brave the warrior front of Boreas, often perish in his chilly embrace. The winds of March, however, are highly beneficial to drying up the superabundant moisture of the earth; and although they may retard the delights and beauties of Spring, these are rendered more valuable to us, because they are less fugacious.

            The russet-brown dress of the hedges is now spotted with green, preparatory to their assuming the complete vesture of Spring.—The leaves of the lilac begin to peep from beneath their winter clothing, and gooseberry and currant trees display their verdant foliage and pretty green blossoms. The yew-tree, ‘faithful in death,’ as it protects our tombs from the gaze of every passing stranger, when our more gaudy floral acquaintances have deserted us, opens its blossoms about the beginning of this month.

            The melody of birds now gradually swells upon the ear. The throstle, second only to the nightingale in song, charms us with the sweetness, and variety of its lays. The linnet and goldfinch join the general concert in this month, and the golden-crowned wren begins its song. The lark also, must not be forgotten.—While the birds delight us with their song, the bees read us a lesson of industry, for they are to be seen collecting materials for their elegant condiment of honey on every fine day throughout the year.

Preserved Kitchens from the Past

A few months ago, the Daily Mail reported on the discovery of a Victorian kitchen in the basement of a large home in Wales. The room, closed off for decades, will be preserved as an excellent example of how the servants once lived and worked.

Cefn Park, Wales

The entire article is here.  Imagine discovering such relics right down in the basement!

Which got us thinking about other historic  kitchens  we've visited in Britain.  There are many -- send us your favorites!

The Hampton Court Palace kitchens are among the most popular parts of the oft-visited palace.  On many days, costumed works demonstrate Tudor cookery and prepare treats for the sightseers.  We remember imbibing chocolate drinks, far different than what we enjoy at Starbucks, but still delicious (when you get used to it!).

Above, the larder where the butcher received game and began to prepare the meat for feeding the hundreds of royal guests, court functionaries and palace staff.  Imagine keeping 600 people fed -- 24/7.

The kitchen complex includes bakeries, breweries, larders, boiling and roasting rooms, pantries, confectories, spicery, and many more. Not to mention sculleries I suppose. For more on Henry VIII's kitchens, click here.

More Reminiscences of Captain Gronow

To say that Captain Gronow is not politically correct by today's standards would be an understatement indeed. However, his comments no doubt reflect the prevailing view of his readers, however offensive we find his prejudices today.

Here are Gronow's observations on author Matthew Lewis (1775-1818), known as Monk after the name of his renowned Gothick novel.

Matthew "Monk" Lewis by Pickersgill, 1809

"MONK" LEWIS

One of the most agreeable men of the day was "Monk" Lewis.  As the author of the Monk and the Tales of Wonder, he not only found his way into the best circles, but had gained a high reputation in the literary world. His poetic talent was undoubted, and he was intimately connected with Walter Scott in his ballad researches.  His Alonzo the Brave and the Fair Imogene was recited at the theatres, and wherever he went he found a welcome reception.  His West Indian fortune and connections, and his seat in Parliament, gave him access to all the aristocratic circles; from which, however, he was banished upon the appearance of the fourth and last dialogue of the Pursuits of Literature.  Had a thunderbolt fallen upon him, he could not have been more astonished than he was by the onslaught of Mr. Matthias, which led to his ostracism from fashionable society.

 It is not for me to appreciate the value of this satirical poem, which created such an extraordinary sensation, not only in the fashionable, but in the political world; I, however, remember that whilst at Canning's, at the Bishop of London's, and at Gifford's, it was pronounced the most classical and spirited production that had ever issued from the press, it was held up at Lord Holland's, at the Marquis of Lansdowne's, and at Brookes's, as one of the most spiteful and ill-natured satires that had ever disgraced the literary world; and one which no talent or classic lore could ever redeem.  Certain it is, that Matthias fell foul of poor "Monk" Lewis for his romance: obscenity and blasphemy were the charges laid at his door; he was acknowledged to be a man of genius and fancy, but this added only to his crime, to which was superadded that of being a very young man.  The charges brought against him cooled his friends and heated his enemies; the young ladies were forbidden to speak to him, matrons even feared him, and from being one of the idols of the world, he became one of the objects of its disdain. Even his father was led to believe that his son had abandoned the paths of virtue, and was on the high road to ruin.

 "Monk" Lewis, unable to stand against the outcry thus raised against him, determined to try the effects of absence, and took his departure for the island in which his property was; but unfortunately for those who dissented from the ferocious judgment that was passed upon him, and for those who had discrimination enough to know that after all there was nothing very objectionable in his romance, and felt assured that posterity would do him justice, this amiable and kind-hearted man died on his passage out; leaving a blank in one variety of literature which has never been filled up.

 The denunciation was not followed by any other severe criticism; but editors have, in compliance with the insinuations of Matthias, omitted the passages which he pointed out as objectionable, so that the original text is seldom met with.

"Monk" Lewis had a black servant, affectionately attached to his master; but so ridiculously did this servant repeat his master's expressions, that he became the laughing-stock of all his master's friends: Brummell used often to raise a hearty laugh at Carlton House by repeating witticisms which he pretended to have heard from Lewis's servant.  Some of these were very stale; yet they were considered so good as to be repeated at the clubs, greatly adding to the reputation of the Beau as a teller of good things.  "On one occasion," said Brummell, "I called to inquire after a young lady who had sprained her ancle; Lewis, on being asked how she was, had said in the black's presence, 'The doctor has seen her, put her legs straight, and the poor chicken is doing well.' The servant, therefore, told me, with a mysterious and knowing look, 'Oh, sir, the doctor has been here; she has laid eggs, and she and the chickens are doing well.'"

 Such extravagances in those days were received as the essence of wit, and to such stories did the public give a willing ear, repeating them with unwearying zest.  Even Sheridan's wit partook of this character, making him the delight of the Prince, who ruled over the fashionable world, and whose approbation was sufficient to give currency to anything, however ludicrous and absurd.