Church Pews During the Regency

I’m currently reading Roy and Lesley Adkins’ book Eavesdropping on Jane Austen’s England, which I recommend. But this post is not a book review. Instead, I want to talk about something the Adkins discuss in Chapter Six, “Sermons and Superstitions.”

“During the eighteenth century the medieval bench pews were often replaced by closed box pews, which provided some privacy and protection against drafts. Inside the church, differences in social quality were reflected by the size and quality of the family’s pew and its position in the nave” (158).

I’ve Tweeted about this issue in the past, because I think it’s really important for Regency fiction writers to be aware of the prevalence of box pews in “our” historical period of interest. Twenty-first century writers who grew up as churchgoers, or whose only expossure to religion is to contemporary Christianity, may automatically think of wooden benches when they read the word “pew.” After all, that’s the kind of pew many churches have now, assuming they use pews rather than individual chairs! The image below displays bench pews of the sort often used today:

Photo by Sueda Dilli on Pexels.com

As a Catholic born in the late twentieth-century, I picture something like the image above when I hear the word “pew.” But that’s not how most Anglican churches handled seating during the Regency. The illustration of the fashionable St. George’s in Hanover Square below shows you what seating was like in the early nineteenth century. This picture depicts an 1841 wedding. You can see that contrary to what some romance novels imply, wedding guets at ton weddings would NOT have sat in rows of benches as they do today. They would sit in closed box pews.

While I’m talking about fashionable weddings in St. George’s (which show up frequently in Regency romance novels) it’s also important to note that Georgian weddings were not the huge social events that they are now. Some weddings were celebrated quietly, with only immediately family present, if that. (Dorothy Wordsworth did not attend her beloved brother William’s wedding in 1802, despite the fact that she lived with him in Dove Cottage.) The church would not be gussied up for a wedding with white bows and huge bouquets of flowers. The wedding breakfast might be lavish, but not all guests invited to the breakfast attended the wedding. On the other hand, since a parish church is a public place, anyone could walk into the church and watch a wedding purely for entertainment.

From Life In Regency and Early Victorian Times by EB Chancellor (1926)



Today, even very old church buildings do not usually have box pews. Changes in Anglican church seating began only a few decades after the Regency ended. In the Victorian period, some Tractarian writers and church architects pushed back against private box pews for both aesthetic and theological reasons. Many Tractarians believed it was wrong to show distinction to the rich in church. They expressed a preference for allowing rich and poor Christians to mingle together in the church. There was at least one Tractarian novel about the evils of pews, in fact! But that’s a story for another day.

That said, there are a few examples of the eighteenth-century style of pew extant today. This page about “Georgian Churches” has some great examples. Though I’ve not personally seen such pews, I’ve been told that some older American churches still display box pews, too.

If you want a good example of what nineteenth-century pews looked like and how they signified social standing, take a look at this illustration of “The Little Church in the Park” by Hablot Brown (“Phiz”) in Charles Dickens’ Bleak House. This is one of my favorite images of a Victorian church service, because it conveys a good deal about the social aspects of corporate worship.

In the illustration above, you can see Sir Leicester Dedlock and his wife, Lady Dedlock, standing together in the pew with the heighest walls (left side, center of the church). As a baronet and the local landowner, Sir Leicester outranks everyone else in the church, so he has the best place. Across from them on the right side, in a much lower pew, you can see Mr. Jarndyce’s party. This group of ladies and gentlemen includes Esther Summerson— the girl in the bonnet looking at the Dedlocks. If you know the story, you’ll know why Esther keeps looking at the Dedlocks, and if you don’t know the plot, I refuse to spoil it. Let’s just say that this is a pivotal scene and leave it at that, shall we?

Anyway, back to the Regency! If you write fiction set during the Georgian era, make sure that any church scenes reflect the way social rank and wealth influenced people’s seating. If your characters are nobility or well-ranking gentry, they may very well occupy the best pews, especially in a country church. “Poor” or working class characters may sit in the gallery or in church-provided pews in the back (Adkins and Adkins 158).

Regency Marriage Proposals

If you’re a follower of my kidlit blog, you might want to skip this post, because it’s basically a copy of an earlier post. I’m reposting it here with only minor changes because it really belongs on this blog!

In any case, the research for this post began when I was writing a proposal scene in one of my Regency romances. I wondered whether gentlemen in the Regency period went down on one knee when they proposed, as they sometimes do today. Many Regency romances depict this. For example, in Mary Balogh’s FIRST COMES MARRIAGE, Vanessa requests that Elliott propose properly, on one knee. But some sources I’ve read suggest that kneeling on one knee to propose might have developed later in the nineteenth century, or even in the earlier twentieth-century. While I’ve seen Victorian art or engravings depicting the on-one-knee proposal, I don’t think I’ve found art actually produced in the Regency that depicts a proposal that way.

So what did marriage proposals look like in the nineteenth century? To find out, I searched the internet for paintings or drawings of proposal scenes. I discovered a whole genre of art depicting what I call “Regency proposals gone wrong.” Edmund Leighton has multiple proposal paintings depicting ambiguous or failed proposal scenes. For example, here’s “Yes or No?”

Edmund Leighton. “Yes or No?”

In the painting above, the answer to the question “Yes or no?” seems to be “No.” I’m neither a flower expert nor an art historian, but I believe the blue flowers in her hand are forget-me-nots, which leads me to speculate that she is remembering a different lover. In any case, she seems more interested in the flowers than in her suitor.

The same seems to be true in the (unidentified) painting below.

Artist and title unidentified.

In the painting above, the suitor seems anxious. But to me, the woman looks like she’s wishing he would leave her alone. Some of my followers suggested that she might be displaying the modesty or diffidence expected of a proper young lady in the time period. That would explain why her face is averted. In my opinion, though, her eyes say “OMG, no. I’m not that into you.” Either the anxious suitor is about to be rejected, or she’s going to accept him very reluctantly.

The next painting (again by Leighton) may be more ambiguous. On the one hand, the way the woman looks at the “work” (fiber art) in her hand rather than at the suitor could suggest lack of interest. On the other hand, her lowered eyes might simply indicate shyness or modesty. Either way, this is a far cry from the modern image of a happy bride-to-be staring deeply into her suitor’s eyes as she accepts.

Edmund Leighton. “The Proposal.”

The next two paintings are by Frederic Soulacroix, and they seem to go together. I’ve jokingly suggested that the woman in the first painting is thinking “Ugh, it’s too HOT for this! I need a cold drink!” But the painting that follows is one of the rare proposal paintings depicting an unambiguously happy couple. (Shout out to MJ Lloyd for finding the second of the two paintings!)

Frederic Soulacroix. “The Proposal.”

The painting below is the cutest, happiest nineteenth-century proposal scene I’ve yet to find in art. It’s also one of the few paintings in which the couple sit close together. In some other proposal scenes, you can see the woman physically trying to put space between herself and her suitor. We’ll see an example in the next image.

What caught my attention about the painting below was the way the woman leans away from her suitor, as if trying to get as physically distant from him as she can without falling off the sofa. She has a smile on her face, yes, but the body language all says “Ew, go away.”

The longer I looked at the painting below, the more questions I had. “What is going on with the dead animal under her feet?” Followed by “Why did he tie his cravat in a bow, as if he were a present? Does he think he’s God’s gift to women?” So many questions . . . (Note: I do not know the title of this painting. If you recognize it, feel free to shout it out in the comments.)

Unidentified.

Soulacroix must have liked this subject, because he had other proposal paintings. In the next one, the woman looks away (as in many of these paintings), but I’m not sure that she’s unhappy about the proposal. While there are different ways of reading her expression, it seems to me like there’s a slight smile hinted here. Alternatively, she may be smiling anxiously.

Soulacroix. “The Proposal.”

My last image is a satirical print of a courting couple. Most (all?) of the other images in this post were done in the late nineteenth century, decades after the Regency ended. They thus represent a later interpretation of the time period I’m interested in. The print below, however, is actually from the Georgian era: 1805, to be precise.

Published by Laurie & Whittle. Image from the Library of Congress.

If you have any sources that discuss marriage proposals in the Regency era, feel free to share them in the comments!

“Scary Ghost Stories”

With Halloween over, many people are gearing up for the big winter holiday season. I thought today might be a good day to look at a tradition that surprisingly connects Halloween and Christmas: telling ghost stories out loud.

Think about when or how you’ve heard people tell ghost stories. I usually hear them around Halloween time.( In popular media, people are depicted as telling ghost stories around the campfire during summer camping trips, but since I am *not* a camping person, I can’t confirm this!) For the most part, I associate ghost stories with the so-called “Spooky Season” leading into Halloween.

But in the ninteteenth century, ghost stories were actually associated with Christmas. If you’ve ever read Henry James’ novella The Turn of the Screw, the frame narrative at the beginning is set at Christmas time, and it explicitly refers to the tradition of telling ghost stories around the fire. The very first line of the frame narrative talks about the house guests listening to a story “around the fire” describes the story as “gruesome, as, on Christmas Eve in an old house, a strange tale should essentially be . . .” The story that follows about a governess and two children is presented as another such “gruesome” Christmas story, though guests don’t get to hear it until a few days after Christmas.

Even if you’re not familiar with The Turn of the Screw, you’ve probably enountered references to this old tradition. In the Twentieth Century Christmas song “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year,” there’s a reference to “scary ghost stories.” I’m guessing that line doesn’t make a lot of sense to many people who hear the song each year! But you can find numerous discussions of this tradition online, such as this article from the History Channel.

People sometimes imply that the tradition of ghost stories at Christmas dates back to Charles Dickens’ 1843 novel A Christmas Carol, but there are indications that the tradition predates Dickens. This article by Book Riot discusses some of the precursers of Dickens’ Christmas ghost stories. It’s true, though, that A Christmas Carol remains the most famous example of ghost stories associated with Christmas Eve.

Illustration by John Leece from the 1843 edition. Image provided by the British Library.

Because of the long history of telling ghost stories at Christmas, you may find some fiction set in the Regency era referencing the tradition. And that’s why we’re talking about it here!

My forthcoming novel, Secrets at Selwyn Castle, takes place across three weeks, from a week before Christmas to Twelfth Night. On Christmas Day, after having feasted and celebrated all day, the house guests gather in the drawing room to hear ghost stories. Female lead Ivy Burnley listens as other guests tell stories:

Mr. Selwyn related a couple of gruesome tales. So did Lord Crowthorne, who had very good delivery. But, to her surprise, quiet Miss Canning displayed a turn for narrative that outdid all the other storytellers. The story she told was simple and traditional, involving a dying curse, a lady in white, and a family secret. But she delivered it so well, the hairs on the back of Ivy’s neck stood on end at the story’s climax.

Fun fact: the “Miss Canning” who tells the best story is the heroine of one of my current works-in-progress, Discovery at Dogwood Cottage. I’ve enjoyed getting to know this character more as I draft her story. And, before anyone asks: yes, there is a legend of a ghost haunting Dogwood Cottage!

Launch Party: Day 4

By now, you may be wondering why I named my Regency fantasy “The Solitary Rose.” In part, the title is an allusion to the rose that plays an important part in the traditional version of “The Beauty and the Beast.” But it’s also a reference to female lead Emma Ainsworth, a recluse who loves roses. Roses only show up only a couple of times in the story, but they’re symbolically important.

Photo by Peggycoucair, from Pixabay.

Which brings us to today’s post about the meaning of flowers! As you probably know, there are traditional meanings assigned to many of the common flowers in Anglo-American culture. The link above takes you to a list based on Victorian culture, which occurs a little later than the events of The Solitary Rose (set in 1814). But some of those meanings undoubtedly go back earlier than the Victorian period.

As you may know, there are also traditional flowers for each birth month, similar to the more commonly used birthstones. You can find your birth month flower here! For example, I was born in January, so my birth month flower is either the carnation or the snowdrop, depending on which tradition you follow. The meaning of carnations changes based on the color of the flower. The same is true of roses! The red rose on the cover of my novel means “I love you” and stands for romance.

In the comments, pick a flower —either a favorite flower or your birthmonth flower— and tell us what it means!

Not every character can be Jane

Congratulations, you’ve decided to write a Regency novel! Whether you’re writing romance, fantasy, mystery, or something else, the Regency is a fun time period for a story. But what if you’re having trouble naming all your characters? One of the challenges of naming characters in historical fiction is that names that we like today often differ from names popular in the past. How can you find names that sound authentic to the Regency? There are some good examples in Austen’s novels, but not every character can be named Lizzie or Jane.

One resource is the Regency Name Generator at the Regency Reader blog. There is a generator for male names and one for female names. Many of the generated names are laughable, but every now and then you’ll stumble upon a good one. When I use a name from this generator, I often end up taking either a first name or surname but not the whole name combination.

If you’re looking specifically for period-appropriate given names/Christian names, Bryn Donovan has an excellent list. I’ve referred to this many times when trying to come up with a good first name that I haven’t already used.

But what abour surnames? For me, this is often the biggest challenge. Sometimes in the past I have raided my own family tree for surnames.That’s how Christina’s “Grandfather Rownd” (in Secrets and Visions) got his last name. My great-grandmother was a Rownd, and I liked the sound of it as a surname. For that matter, my “Rollins” pen name is also from my family tree. Another of my great-grandmothers was a Rollins by birth, and that’s the family line I researched most when I dabbled in genealogy. (Ask me about my bigamous great-great-great uncle sometime!)

But the family tree trick only works if you or someone you know maintains an extensive family tree AND if a significant number of your ancestors are of British descent. (Shout-out to my aunt for the decades of work she’s put into family genealogy!) Obviously, there are many writers for whom this will not work. So what are some other sources for Regency-appropriate surnames?

If you know what county your character is from, you can simply search “common surnames in [county].” If you want to narrow it down a little more, add “in the nineteenth century.” Searching “common surnames in Yorkshire in the nineteenth century” led me to a list of surnames from the 1881 census, and I ended up finding a few names that I used in drafting My Lady Sorceress. What I like about this method is that you may discover surnames like “Thackrey” or “Goforth” that are uncommon in fiction but authentic to the region.

What other methods do you use when trying to develop Regency-sounding names? Any tips to share?

How to Smell Like a Regency-era Lady

If you write Regency fiction, you may have stumbled upon Laurie Benson’s excellent post, How To Smell Like a Regency-Era Gentleman. Laurie chronicles a visit to two very old London scent makers, discussing some colognes that date all the way back to the Regency. If you’ve ever wondered what a Regency duke really smelled like, check out her post.

Note that Truefitt & Hill sells a cologne sample pack that includes a few of their oldest scents. This might be the cheapest way to sample Regency-era cologne. If you’re curious, Henry Dawson, the lead in my forthcoming book The Solitary Rose, wears “Freshman,” a Truefitt & Hill cologne popular with Regency-era undergraduates. Lord Colburn, from My Lady Sorceress, wears Spanish Leather, a scent produced (with variations) by multiple fragrance companies.

Six antique perfume glass richly ornate bottles, isolated on white. Photo by Mara Fribus from Adobe Stock Photos.

But what if you want to smell like a Regency-era lady, not a gentleman? I have never had the opportunity to visit London perfumeries in person, but some quick googling turned up a few sources for women’s scents that date back to the Georgian era.

First up, you can try Sweet Water, based on an 18th-century recipe. This is a pretty floral scent that I don’t find too strong. There are other Etsy sellers who make old-fashioned rose water or lavender water, so if you want to buy from a small business, try poking about Etsy for scents. (Emma Ainsworth, the female lead of The Solitary Rose, prefers lavender, while Madelene Shaw of My Lady Sorceress always uses rose water.)

If you want to support some of the old British scent makers, Floris has been around for centuries, and they do sell some of their classic fragrances. Check out their Lily of the Valley eau de toilette, based on one of their earliest fragrences. Limes is also a very old scent. American shoppers note that you can find Floris scents floating around on other places on the web, too, such as Ebay or the Zon.

Unfortunately, Floris is out of my price range, so I was happy when Regency writer Beth Elliott directed me to Woods of Windsor, which dates back to 1770. Their True Rose and Lavender Eau de Toilettes are based on old formulas. (Of the two scents, I prefer Lavender.) If you live in the US, don’t worry about international shipping: several American vendors carry these scents, too.

I am not a perfume expert, and I know that I am undoubtedly missing many other sources for historic fragrances. Drop a comment if you know of some good Regency-era women’s scents that I haven’t listed here!

And if you’re curious about how perfume was stored in the Regency era, Candice Hern’s Regency World blog has several posts about Regency perfume bottles, including one with a built in spy-glass! That would be perfect for a lady pirate, wouldn’t it?

Regency Pseudo-Profanity

Recently, I asked my Twitter followers for help thinking of substitutes for curse words. My work-in-progress featured a former clergyman as the male lead, and I felt confident that he would not use actual profanity when talking to his love interest. My followers came through with a vengeance, and collectively, we produced this list of possible profanity alternatives for historical fiction. I’m posting it here in case it might be of use to anyone else!

Botheration

Confound it

Blast

The deuce

By George

By Jove

Jupiter Ammon

Heavens!

Good gracious

Gracious me

Dash it all

Blooming

Criminy

Zounds

Lawks

Pon rep

By thunder

Thunder and turf

Tare and ‘ounds

Devil take it

To the devil with it

Fiend seize it

Gadzooks

Egads

Blazes (“go to blazes”)

Oh, cabbages! (or anything else funny)

Hang it all

Dog-Bother it!