WOW ~ Word of the Week ~ Up to Their Gossip

WOW ~ Word of the Week ~ Up to Their Gossip

This week’s phrase took very little effort on my part after I stumbled upon a terrific post at Flavorwire. I have long admired Jane Austen’s works and delved into her life through her remaining correspondence and notes – she really had the greatest sense of comic timing and a deft hand at using words to their greatest effect. After reading this compilation of her best bon mots from Pride and Prejudice, I was again reminded of her genius way with words.

This will be fun.

Up to Their Gossip

To be a match for one who attempts to cheat or deceive; to be on a footing, or in the secret. I’ll be up with him; I will repay him in kind.

“But that’s none of my business.” ~Fitzwilliam Darcy

To me, Lizzy Bennet is the epitome of the definition of being Up to Their Gossip. Never let them see you sweat.

The following are the 15 Best Disses and One-Liners From Pride and Prejudice, according to Flavorwire.

1. Mr. Bennet on Mrs. Bennet’s nerves:

“Mr. Bennet, how can you abuse your own children in such a way? You take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion for my poor nerves.”

“You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these last twenty years at least.”

2. Mr. Darcy’s original stone-cold snub of Lizzy Bennet, to Mr. Bingley:

“She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me; I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.”

3. Lizzy Bennet to Mr. Darcy on his weaknesses:

“Perhaps that is not possible for anyone. But it has been the study of my life to avoid those weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule.”

“Such as vanity and pride.”

4. Mr. Darcy to Caroline Bingley on the appeal of Lizzy Bennet’s eyes, despite her conceitedly independent choice to walk in ankle-deep mud:

“I am afraid, Mr. Darcy,” observed Miss Bingley in a half whisper, “that this adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes.”

“Not at all,” he replied; “they were brightened by the exercise.”

5. Mr. Bennet to Lizzy, after she refuses to marry Mr. Collins:

“An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr. Collins, and I will never see you again if you do.”

6. Lizzy to Caroline Bingley on the matter of George Wickham:

“His coming into the country at all is a most insolent thing, indeed, and I wonder how he could presume to do it. I pity you, Miss Eliza, for this discovery of your favourite’s guilt; but really, considering his descent, one could not expect much better.”

“His guilt and his descent appear by your account to be the same,” said Elizabeth angrily; “for I have heard you accuse him of nothing worse than of being the son of Mr. Darcy’s steward, and of that, I can assure you, he informed me himself.”

7. Mr. Bennet to Mrs. Bennet on longevity:

“Indeed, Mr. Bennet,” said she, “it is very hard to think that Charlotte Lucas should ever be mistress of this house, that I should be forced to make way for her, and live to see her take her place in it!”

“My dear, do not give way to such gloomy thoughts. Let us hope for better things. Let us flatter ourselves that I may be the survivor.”

8. Mr. Darcy to William Lucas on dancing:

“What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. Darcy! There is nothing like dancing after all. I consider it as one of the first refinements of polished society.”

“Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue amongst the less polished societies of the world. Every savage can dance.”

Not. Amused. By. Savages. At. All.

9. Mr. Darcy, in peak jerk mode, even as he proposes to Lizzy:

“Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections?—to congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own?”

10. Lizzy to Mr. Darcy on his previous comments:

“You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared me the concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner.”

That condescending curtsy, though. 19th Century equivalent of the slow clap.

11. Darcy to Caroline Bingley on Lizzy’s fine eyes, part II:

“I remember, when we first knew her in Hertfordshire, how amazed we all were to find that she was a reputed beauty…But afterwards she seemed to improve on you, and I believe you thought her rather pretty at one time.”

“Yes,” replied Darcy, who could contain himself no longer, “but that was only when I first saw her, for it is many months since I have considered her as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance.”

12. Lizzy to her seduction-victim little sister Lydia on finding a spouse:

“And then when you go away, you may leave one or two of my sisters behind you; and I dare say I shall get husbands for them before the winter is over.”

“I thank you for my share of the favour,” said Elizabeth; “but I do not particularly like your way of getting husbands.”

13. Lizzy to Lady Catherine on whether or not she’ll marry Mr. Darcy:

“You are then resolved to have him?”

“I have said no such thing. I am only resolved to act in that manner, which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without reference to you, or to any person so wholly unconnected with me.”

14. Lizzy, to Jane, on falling for Mr. Darcy:

“My dearest sister, now be serious. I want to talk very seriously. Let me know every thing that I am to know, without delay. Will you tell me how long you have loved him?”

“It has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began. But I believe I must date it from my first seeing his beautiful grounds at Pemberley.”

15. Lizzy and Darcy on Lady Catherine’s influence on their love:

I knew enough of your disposition to be certain that, had you been absolutely, irrevocably decided against me, you would have acknowledged it to Lady Catherine, frankly and openly.”

Elizabeth coloured and laughed as she replied, “Yes, you know enough of my frankness to believe me capable of that. After abusing you so abominably to your face, I could have no scruple in abusing you to all your relations.”

And they all lived happily every after.

 

WOW ~ Word of the Week ~ Betwattaled

James Gillray really is all that and a bag of chips.

I was minding my own business in the archives of the National Portrait Gallery when I stumbled upon a two-part series of Gillray’s from 1806. The first just screams, “Go forth and find a Regency slang term that describes my expression.”

So I did.

Wide-Awake by James Gillray, published by Hannah Humphrey 1 November 1806, National Portrait Gallery.

Betwattled

Surprised, confounded, out of one’s senses; also betrayed.

Also when I saw the Gillray picture above, I thought about how much he looked like Mr. Bennet in form but how his expression resembled that of Mrs. Bennet. So off to the interwebs I went in search of the betwattled looks of Pride and Prejudice circa 1995.

And the pièce de résistance of surprised looks …

 

Slang term taken from the 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue.

WOW ~ Word of the Week ~ Hobberdehoy

WOW ~ Word of the Week ~ Hobberdehoy

I think we all know someone who needs to act their age rather than their shoe size (to paraphrase Prince). This week’s word may be more a literal reference to age rather than behavior, but it’s easier to illustrate the latter, so I beg your indulgence of my interpretation.

Hobberdehoy (noun)

Half a man and half a boy, a lad between both.

For the ultimate Regency boy-man, I of course thought of the Prince Regent, the patron saint of leisure, fashion, and food, and extravagance in all three. He was criticized as selfish, careless, and inconstant, offering no direction to the country during his father’s incapacitation or the wars with Napoleon and America. His legacy is self-aggrandizement for all things frivolous and profligate.

George IV by Thomas Lawrence, 1822, Chatsworth House Chintz Bedroom.

George IV by Thomas Lawrence, 1822, Chatsworth House Chintz Bedroom.

The remaining behavioral visual aids for Hobberdehoys may be fictional – but they fit my thematic rendering rather well. And of course they came from the inspired mind of Jane Austen. Upon examination, I found a Hobberdehoy in each of her novels.

Do you agree with my choices?

Allesandro Nivola as Henry Crawford in Mansfield Park, 1999.

Allesandro Nivola as Henry Crawford in Mansfield Park, 1999.

Rupert Evans as Frank Churchill in Emma.

Rupert Evans as Frank Churchill in Emma, 2009.

William Beck as John Thorpe in Northanger Abbey, 2007.

William Beck as John Thorpe in Northanger Abbey, 2007.

Anthony Head as Sir Walter Elliot in Persuasion, 2007.

Anthony Head as Sir Walter Elliot in Persuasion, 2007.

Greg Wise as Willoughby in Sense and Sensibility, 1995.

Greg Wise as Willoughby in Sense and Sensibility, 1995.

Adrian Lukis as George Wickham in Pride and Prejudice, 1995.

Adrian Lukis as George Wickham in Pride and Prejudice, 1995.

 

Slang term taken from the 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue.

WOW ~ Word of the Week ~ Postilion of the Gospel

I live in the American south, where the unofficial motto is God, Guns, and Gravy (and not necessarily in that order). Gravy is a food group rather than a condiment, guns are fashion accessories, and there’s a Baptist church on every corner. If one is absent from church of a Sunday, rest assured they are at Lakeside Baptist (i.e., fishing) or Bedside Baptist (i.e., sleeping), or NASCAR or the Dallas Cowboys are on TV.

But I joke.

Sort of.

One thing you’re least likely to find in the south is the Word of the Week. If you’re in church, you’d better have on comfy shoes, a pocket full of peppermints, and possess the ability to refrain from clock-watching. The sermon has at least three points, they all start with the same letter, and none of them have to do with beating the Methodists to Cracker Barrel. The only way you’re getting out early is — well — you’re just not getting out early.

The Country Politicians by James Gillray, published by William Richardson 7 March 1777, National Portrait Gallery.

The Country Politicians by James Gillray, published by William Richardson 7 March 1777, National Portrait Gallery. The engraving above the parson’s head in the top middle reads, “The Parson, Barber, and the Squire, Three Souls who News admire.”

Postilion of the Gospel (noun)

A parson who hurries over the service.

I tried to find a clip of everyone’s favorite Georgian parson, the insufferable and toadying Mr. Collins, just to illustrate the very opposite of being  Postilion of the Gospel.

Mr. Collins to be sure was neither sensible nor agreeable; his society was irksome… Pride and Prejudice, Volume 1, Chapter 22

Alas, I could not find one … but I did run across this gem. Just try watching Pride and Prejudice in the future and see if you don’t hear this song every time you see Mr. Collins. Happy Monday!

Slang term taken from the 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue.

WOW ~ Word of the Week ~ Pig Running

WOW ~ Word of the Week ~ Pig Running

In case the post-holiday and winter doldrums have taken root in your soul, here’s a bit of summertime entertainment to banish the blahs. But first, how did I pick this week’s word?

Glad you asked.

In true stream of consciousness form, this phrase came to me. I always watch and read Pride and Prejudice over the Christmas holiday. I have a lovely leather-bound copy to read, and I watch all the versions I have access to – the 1940 film (purely for Laurence Olivier, Greer Garson, and Edna Mae Oliver), the 1980 and 1995 miniseries, and the 2005 film. There’s a scene in the latter that is not taken from the book but completely fits the character and the action. That led me to wondering if it was an anachronistic inclusion or if such practices really occurred, which led me to research.

That’s how I roll.

Pig Running

A piece of game frequently practised at fairs, wakes, &c. A large pig, whose tail is cut short, and both soaped and greased, being turned out, is hunted by the young men and boys, and becomes the property of him who can catch and hold him by the tail, above the height of his head.

Actress Kelly Reilly as Caroline Bingley, Pride and Prejudice, 2005, Focus Features.

Actress Kelly Reilly as Caroline Bingley, Pride and Prejudice, 2005, Focus Features.

And yes, Virginia, they really chased pigs at fairs back in the day (and still do every summer at fairs all over the United States). The largest of these exhibitions was the one held in London – the Bartholomew Fair. It began by charter of King Henry I when he allowed the Prior of Smithfield to hold a market in September near St. Bartholomew hospital. It grew in popularity each year, eventually lengthening to fourteen days, and was the event to see exotic animals, wrestlers and strong men, acrobats, puppetry, musicians and dancers, and to buy all manner of food, drink, and textiles.

By the early 1800s, the fair had shortened to just four days in length, and authorities railed against the lewd behavior, bawdy entertainments, drunkenness, and general atmosphere of exhibitionism that accompanied the fair. Regency visitors would have witnessed all manner of shocking spectacles, including a full-blown pig running. But it was the theatrical performances that especially vexed the strait-laced; they were prohibited from the Fair in the early 1840s. By 1852, no shows were enacted and in 1855, the charter expired.

Bartholomew Fair by Thomas Rowlandson, published in Rudolph Ackermann's Microcosm of London, 1808-10, British Library.

Bartholomew Fair by Thomas Rowlandson, published in Rudolph Ackermann’s Microcosm of London, 1808-10, British Library.

I’ve blogged about the fair before here, and author Susana Ellis offers up a fine examination of it in her Romance of London Series: Bartholomew Fair. But I did find something new in my pokings and proddings of the internet. London Metropolitan Archives Artist in Residence Nick Field discusses the famous print of the fair as part of the LMA’s Streetlife London series. It’s broken into two parts, each less than five minutes. It’s a fascinating analysis of both the artwork and its subject.

 

WOW ~ Word of the Week ~ Maggotty

WOW ~ Word of the Week ~ Maggotty

This week’s word is brought to you by the process of chasing rabbits. Or, more accurately, dancing rabbits.

Rabbits that lead you to reevaluate everything you thought you knew about a subject. I’m not sure how I feel about it yet, either.

Maggotty (adjective)

Whimsical, capricious.

I’ve always loved the phrase “maggot in the brain.” I’ve read it in countless novels, usually to introduce some hair-brained (or hare-brained, ha!) scheme by a main character. The results range from comedic situations to ill-conceived consequences to compromise-ruination-marriage. Remember poor Jane after her mother’s scheme to go on horseback to Netherfield?

Lizzy tends sick Jane at Netherfield after her mother's maggotty idea to ride in the rain.

Lizzy tends sick Jane at Netherfield after her mother’s maggotty idea to ride in the rain. From the A&E/BBC 1995 adaptation.

(Side note: do not Google maggot in the brain, ever.)

I’ve also read of “Mr. Beveridge’s Maggot,” an English country dance from Palmer’s Pocket Playford, 1695. It’s the dance of choice for beauty and elegance in Jane Austen adaptations, featuring in 1995’s Pride and Prejudice and Emma from 1996.

~He's touching me. ~She's touching me.

~He’s touching me.
~She’s touching me.

So when I came across maggotty in the Vulgar Dictionary, it was no stretch to picture a maggot in the brain as a whimsical or fanciful idea. And perhaps the change in movements in a Maggot could be labeled capricious, and the act of dancing can certainly be fanciful and playful. I confess I can’t wait to describe a relative’s idea or story as maggotty over Thanksgiving dinner next week.

I had thought to describe the steps of Mr. Beveridge’s Maggot, show a diagram, and then close with a YouTube clip from one of the movies mentioned above.

However.

I came across a website with the fantastic name of Capering and Kickery, and the post entitled Real Regency Dancers Don’t Turn Single: Ten Tips for Judging Authenticity. I suddenly had a very bad feeling, and my mouth went dry as I prepared to have a bubble or two burst. I was not prepared for the shattering of romantic dreams and Colin Firth dance moves. Of course, I take very little at face value and always seek corroboration or refutation . . . and it saddens my heart a bit to say what we read (and we authors write) about Regency dancing is possibly more fictionalized than it should be. It has long been an understood that what makes it to the small and big screens often bears little resemblance to its original.

In short, on screen (and what we picture in our mind’s eyes whilst reading novels), we see couples move gracefully through sedate, almost regal dances, the camera capturing meaningful glances and well-placed dialogue. In reality, those were the dances of an entirely different era altogether, one hundred years prior. Regency dances were lively, progressive, and serious business. And there were plenty of contemporary dances being written and published for the Regency set: Thomas Wilson, Dancing Master, published over fifty collections of dances between 1808 and 1846. Moldy oldies from the late 1600s were not necessarily good ton.

At Capering and Kicking, Susan de Guardiola makes the argument that Real Regency Dancers:

  1. Don’t Walk (you’re not dancing if you’re not sucking wind)
  2. Mind Their Curves (no stiff arms and rigid ‘W’ elbows here)
  3. Don’t Turn Single (couples only in the figures, if you please)
  4. Are Au Courant (that Maggot is sooo 17th Century)
  5. Do It In Threes (because three is better than two, and never one; see #3)
  6. Really Reel (kick up those heels, missy!)
  7. Vary Their Attitudes (waltzing was not simply one-two-three-repeat)
  8. Work Their Way Down (wait your turn to dance, and mind the queue!)
  9. Are Totally Square (quadrilles rule, minuets drool)
  10. Name That Tune (dances and music weren’t linked, unlike the Electric Slide or the Whip/Nae Nae)

Ms. de Guardiola does cite Captain Gronow, who was and is so notoriously unreliable that I’m not even going to provide a link to anything about him, but her other sources are spot on – contemporary, varied, and helpful. Follow that link above to read her reasons and research behind each point.

I now have a maggotty idea floating around my head: I need to rethink and re-choreograph dance scenes that I write to reflect a Regency mindset, rather than casting them with my 21st century tendency toward nostalgia. Regency dancers had plenty of current material from which to choose; they may have thought of them, or heard talk of them from dowagers and doddering aunts, but they had no need of their grandmother’s Maggot.

“Much obliged for the quadrilles, which I am grown to think pretty enough, though of course they are very inferior to the cotillions of my own day.”
Jane Austen to her niece Fanny Knight, in a letter dated February 20, 1816

I don’t know. I’m not sure if I can yet picture Regency balls as having more in common with the jig at the Meryton assembly than the Grimstock in the Lucas’s drawing room. Some things – anachronisms though they may be – are just too ingrained. And one of my favorite lines from a Pride and Prejudice adaptation was complete fiction and not in the book: when Miss Bingley remarks to Mr. Darcy, “I can’t help feeling that someone’s going to produce a piglet and make us chase it.” Sneering at the rowdiness of the country folk just fit (perhaps because the 2005 adaptation had an odd preoccupation with pigs of all sorts, but I digress).

I still think I’ll end with the lovely, though perhaps not historically accurate, ballroom scene from Pride and Prejudice. Just call me maggotty. And Because Colin.

 

Slang term taken from the 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue. All citations and credits for information in this post are highlighted, with links provided, in the body of the text.

WOW ~ Word of the Week ~ Caper Merchant

WOW ~ Word of the Week ~ Caper Merchant

“Come, Darcy,” said he, “I must have you dance. I hate to see you standing about by yourself in this stupid manner. You had much better dance.”
~ Charles Bingley to Fitzwilliam Darcy, Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 3, Volume 1

Dancing provided one of the few socially acceptable ways for men and women to closely interact in Regency England. Hands brushed as they moved through the steps. Bits of conversation could be murmured as partners met passing through the figures of a dance. Someone had to teach both gentlemen and ladies how to get down with their demure selves.

Caper Merchant (noun)

A dancing master. FRENCH TERM: marchand des capriolles. To cut papers; to leap or jump in dancing. Also known as HOP MERCHANT.

The German Dancing Master by James Gillray, published by Hannah Humphrey 5 April 1782, National Portrait Gallery.

The German Dancing Master by James Gillray, published by Hannah Humphrey 5 April 1782, National Portrait Gallery.

Comforts of Bath: Private Practice Previous to the Ball by Thomas Rowlandson, 1798, Yale Center for British Art.

Comforts of Bath: Private Practice Previous to the Ball by Thomas Rowlandson, 1798, Yale Center for British Art.

La Belle Assemblee: or Sketches of Characteristic Dancing by George Cruikshank, 1817, Art Institute Chicago.

La Belle Assemblee: or Sketches of Characteristic Dancing by George Cruikshank, 1817, Art Institute Chicago.

The Dancing Lesson, pt. 1, the 1st position by George Cruikshank, published by Thomas MacLean 1 August 1835, The New York Public Library Digital Collections.

The Dancing Lesson, pt. 1, the 1st position by George Cruikshank, published by Thomas MacLean 1 August 1835, The New York Public Library Digital Collections.

The Dancing Lesson, pt. 2, the minuet by George Cruikshank, published by Thomas MacLean, 1 August 1835, The NY Public Library Digital Collections.

The Dancing Lesson, pt. 2, the minuet by George Cruikshank, published by Thomas MacLean, 1 August 1835, The NY Public Library Digital Collections.

The Dancing Lesson, pt. 3, L'été by George Cruikshank, published by Thomas MacLean 1 August 1835, The NY Public Library Digital Collections.

The Dancing Lesson, pt. 3, L’été by George Cruikshank, published by Thomas MacLean 1 August 1835, The NY Public Library Digital Collections.

The Dancing Lesson, pt. 4, the sailor's hornpipe by George Cruikshank, published by Thomas MacLean 1 August 1835, The NY Public Library Digital Collections.

The Dancing Lesson, pt. 4, the sailor’s hornpipe by George Cruikshank, published by Thomas MacLean 1 August 1835, The NY Public Library Digital Collections.