Regency ghosts and imposters




It’s almost Halloween – the spookiest time of the year. And while Regency folks didn’t celebrate the holiday as extravagantly as we do now, they did have their share of ghosts and costumed imposters, people pretending to be someone else  though they weren't trick-or-treaters!

Here are a few examples:

A Regency Masquerade

Princess Caraboo
One well-known imposter during the Regency was Princess Caraboo.

This bogus royal figure wandered into Almondsbury, a village near Bristol, in the spring of 1817. A young woman, she appeared dazed and disoriented. She was dressed exotically in a black gown with a black and red shawl, and she spoke no English.

The first person she came across was a cobbler, who took her home. His wife sent her to the local magistrate, Samuel Worrall. Worrall and his American wife Elizabeth noticed that the young stranger seemed to be interested in Asian art, knew the Indonesian term for “pineapple,” and responded to the name “Caraboo.”

Nonetheless, as the local magistrate, Worrall declared the woman a vagrant and had her briefly imprisoned in Bristol.

But that didn’t deter “Caraboo” from continuing her charade. A Portuguese sailor spoke to her while she was in her cell and claimed he could understand her. He then informed her jailors that they had a genuine princess on their hands.

He said she was from Javasu, an island in the Indian Ocean. He claimed she told him she’d been captured by pirates while on a voyage, narrowly escaping their evil clutches by jumping overboard in the Bristol Channel and swimming to shore.

What a great story! The Worralls took her back to their home, where she became a local celebrity. Villagers were fascinated by her strange habits, which included using a bow and arrow, praying to Allah, and swimming naked in the ocean.

The fact that she was “attractive and prepossessing,” according to a contemporary account, probably helped people jettison their doubts and believe her outlandish tale.

She maintained her masquerade for months, careful never to break character. But eventually, the truth came out: “Princess Caraboo” was a former servant named Mary Baker, whose depressing history included being deserted by her husband, having a child who died in infancy and being homeless.

No wonder she tried to escape her past.

When Mary Baker’s true background was revealed, the people she duped did something surprising: kind-hearted Elizabeth Worrall arranged for Mary Baker’s passage to Philadelphia.

Baker stayed in the United States for several years, eventually returning to England and living a quiet life with her daughter. She died in 1864 at the age of 72.

In 1994 Princess Caraboo’s story was made into a major motion picture, starring Phoebe Cates. Here’s a bit of it:




Regency Ghosts

In a country as old as England there’s sure to be no shortage of ghosts to talk about. People during the Regency who wanted to sit around their hearth on dark autumn nights and tell scary stories had lots of options.

They could start with the Tower of London ghosts, a group that includes Anne Boleyn, the executed wife of Henry VIII, and the unfortunate Lady Jane Grey, who was Queen of England for only nine days before she was executed, too.

And there were more recent Tower spirits to talk about during the Regency. In 1816, a sentry at the Jewel House on the Tower grounds claimed he saw a ghostly bear charging towards him. Reportedly, the sentry had the living daylights scared out of him – literally. A few days later he died, with his death attributed to fright.

Then one year later, also at the Jewel House, the Keeper of the Crown Jewels (a man named Edmund Lethal Swifte) claimed he also saw a ghost. This time it was a tube-shaped, glowing figure, which hovered over the shoulder of Mrs. Swifte, terrifying her and her husband.

And of course, there was the famous Hammersmith ghost, a ghost story that panicked a village in 1803 until the unearthly being proved to be a living, breathing man, who was mistaken for a ghost and shot. The question that arose at the trial of the man who killed the "ghost"  whether it was a case of murder or self-defense since the man acted on a mistaken belief  became a legal issue that took almost 200 years to resolve.

But one supernatural story stuck out among the rest and had people talking for decades. It centers on the life and death of the “wicked” Sir Thomas Lyttelton, 2nd Baron Lyttelton.

Sir Thomas Lyttelton
Son of the 1st Lord Lyttelton who was a Lord of the Treasury and Chancellor of the Exchequer, Thomas Lyttelton was born in the Midlands in 1744. Educated at Eton and Oxford, he became a Whig Member of Parliament and a friend to the Prince of Wales –not Prinny, but his father, the future King George III.

Thomas was handsome, charming and talented, so it’s no surprise he attained such privileged positions such as Chief Justice of Eyre and Privy Councilor.

But he was also a well-known libertine. Although he was married he was famous for his drinking, gambling, and fornication – a trifecta of vice.

And almost as bad in the view of some of his contemporaries, Lyttelton was independently-minded on issues concerning politics and religious dogma. In fact, the adjectives of “wicked” and “bad” that got attached to his name had as much to do with his ideas as his promiscuity.

But the scandals and bad press during his life just make the story of his untimely death juicier.

In November 1779, Thomas came down to breakfast one day claiming that he’d had a ghostly dream the previous night, in which a little bird had flown into his bedchamber and told him he had three days to live. He made light of his dream and went on his way, apparently in perfect health.

Then, exactly three days later he died without warning just after going to bed. He was 35 years old.

Was his death caused by heart disease, or was it perhaps a natural result of his rumored drug use? Who knows? The only witness was his manservant, who said his lord had some sort of fit and then died in an instant.

In any case, this scary story was widely believed, even by such notables as Dr. Samuel Johnson. Many believers thought that the wicked baron got just what he deserved for leading such a debauched life.

A supernatural story wrapped in a morality tale – no wonder Lyttelton’s story was so popular.


So this Halloween, whether you’re donning a costume or watching a scary movie, I hope you remember these Regency stories. 

And beware of birds bearing bad news!






Sources:



Rejected Princesses, Tales of History's Boldest Heroines, Hellions and Heretics, by Jason Porath, Harper Collins Publishers, New York, NY, 2016







Princesses Behaving Badly, Real Stories from History Without the Fairy-Tale Endings, by Linda Rodriguez McRobbie, Quirk Books, Philadelphia, PA, 2013 







***

Images from Wikimedia Commons and Pixabay



Brillat-Savarin and the joy of food



"Tell me what you eat, and I will tell you what you are."

These words appeared in a collection of essays by Jean-Anthelme Brillat-Savarin (1755-1826) titled The Physiology of Taste, or Meditations on Transcendental Gastronomy, published shortly before he died.

Now, Brillat-Savarin was a man of many talents and professions – scholar, lawyer, musician, jurist, government official, to name just a few – but what he’s perhaps most remembered for is his love of food and his rather detailed views on how to make the most of eating it.  

Full of amusing anecdotes, witty reflections and even a few recipes, this book has never been out of print since it was first published in 1825. It’s also been referenced continuously by other food writers over the past two centuries, including New York Times best-selling author Michael Pollan, who's authored several well-reviewed works including The Omnivore’s Dilemma

In his book Cooked, Pollan quotes Brillat-Savarin’s claim that cooking had “done the most to advance the cause of civilization” by teaching people to use fire.

Born in the Bugey region of eastern France, Brillat-Savarin came from a family of minor nobles who were progressive in their political views. When the French Revolution began, he was all for government reform and the establishment of a national constitution. He was even elected to represent Bugey at the Estates General in 1789.

But when the revolution took a darker, more radical and violent turn, his moderate views became a liability and he had to flee to Switzerland to escape the guillotine. He spent many years in exile in the United States, in and around New York, playing the violin in theater productions and teaching French to the daughters of prosperous Americans.

When he finally returned to France after the Reign of Terror ended, Brillat-Savarin had a lot of stories to tell. He settled down to writing books about politics, economy, history and even the archaeology of Eastern France – serious tomes quite unlike his Physiology, which is spiced with aphorisms and entertaining accounts of lavish meals, drinking bouts and hunting expeditions. 

Brillat-Savarin was also a leading social figure during Napoleon’s rule of France. His social standing was helped by the fact that his cousin (on his mother’s side) was the famed society hostess Mme. Récamier and he had a standing invitation to her much-sought-after salon. I wonder what kind of food and drink she served at her fashionable evening gatherings, and if her cousin the gourmand enjoyed her gastronomic offerings.

Brillat-Savarin cheese in the package . . .
Even if you’re not a foodie you may still see evidence of Brillat-Savarin’s influence in products at your local grocery store or bakery. I found this carton of Brillat-Savarin cheese, a delicious triple-cream soft cheese that tastes like a tangier version of brie, in the fancy cheese section of my local store.

It’s a pity Brillat-Savarin never got to taste it; this type of cheese was created in 1890 and renamed in his honor in the 1930s. He most certainly would have appreciated a cheese named after him, though, since he says in his book that “dessert without cheese is like a beauty with only one eye."

. . . and on my cheese plate.
And you may have eaten a pastry known as a savarin, which is made in a ring cake mold and soaked in Grand Marnier or other liqueur. It’s similar to baba au rhums (rum babas) sometimes also called savarins, but which I think are better known as the rum-drenched cakes that can make you tipsy at office Christmas parties – but maybe that’s just me.

Alas, this delectable dish was also never eaten by Brillat-Savarin, since it was created in 1844 (almost 20 years after his death) by a couple of Parisian pâtissiers or pastry makers, the Julien Brothers.

The Great British Baking Show aired a segment showing the contestants challenged with making a savarin, resulting in a lot of brow-furrowing and angst as they tried to master the confection. You can find the recipe used on the popular show on the PBS website. 

I’ll end this post with one of the many amusing food-related anecdotes Brillat-Savarin recounts in his book:

"A man who was fond of wine was offered some grapes at dessert after dinner.

'Much obliged', said he, pushing the plate aside, 'I am not accustomed to taking my wine in pills'."

I’ll bet you think of that line the next time you munch on a bunch of grapes.





Also, here’s a clip from The Great British Baking Show showing the contestants struggling with their savarins and the expectations of the judges:



Bon appétit!

**


Sources used in this post include:

  • The Physiology of Taste, or Meditations on Transcendental Gastronomy, by Jean Brillat-Savarin, Dover Publications, Inc., Mineola, New York,  2002
  • A History of Food, by Maguelonne Toussaint-Samat, translated by Anthea Bell, Wiley-Blackwell, Massachusetts, USA and Oxford, UK, 2009
  • Culinary Biographies, A Dictionary of the World’s Great Historic Chefs, Cookbook Authors and Collectors, Farmers, Gourmets, Home Economists, Nutritionists, Restaurateurs, Philosophers, Physicians, Scientists, Writers, and Others Who Influenced the Way We Eat Today, edited by Alice Arndt with Contributions by Numerous Experts, Yes Press, Inc., Houston, Texas, 2006

**

Images from Wikimedia Commons and Pixabay

Ada Lovelace Day

A glamorous watercolor portrait of Ada
painted around 1840
Tuesday, October 9 is this year’s date to celebrate Ada Lovelace Day

Originating in Britain in 2009, Ada Lovelace Day celebrates the achievements of women across the world in science and mathematics and promotes the education of girls in STEM-related disciplines (science, technology, engineering and mathematics).

And it’s fitting that Ada is honored in this way. Born during the Regency and fathered by Lord Byron, one of England’s most celebrated poets, Ada was a pioneer of computer technology - an unknown field during her lifetime. 

A student of advanced mathematics, she became one of the first people to realize the potential of machines to perform intricate calculations, something we take for granted today.
One of only two photos ever taken of Ada Lovelace,
made in London in either 1843 or 1850 

The fact that she was a woman, living in a time when women were not encouraged to pursue studies in science or mathematics, makes her achievements all the more remarkable.

We can thank Ada’s mother, Lady Byron, and her unhappy marriage to Ada’s father for Ada’s education. Fearing that she would take after Lord Byron, her “mad, bad, and dangerous to know” father, Lady Byron steered her daughter towards the study of logic and math, and as far away from poetry as possible.

Ada’s private tutor was Mary Somerville, a renowned Scottish scientific author and researcher. When she was just a teen Ada began working with British engineer and inventor Charles Babbage, who was developing a calculating machine that he called his Analytical Engine.  

Even marriage to the Earl of Lovelace and bearing three children didn’t deter Ada from her work. It was while transcribing an article on Babbage’s prototype that she began to really see the capabilities of the Analytical Engine. In her notes, she worked out a method to calculate a series of Bernoulli numbers on Babbage’s machine, had it been built.

Part of the algorithm Ada wrote
In other words, Ada wrote a detailed computer algorithm, the first ever published, for a computer that had yet to be created. And if she hadn’t died of uterine cancer in 1852 at the age of 36, who knows what more Ada could have done.

Ada’s contribution to the field of mathematics and computer science went largely unnoticed for over 100 years. 

Now there’s Ada, a computer language created for the U.S. Department of Defense, named for her. Among other honors, there's also the Association of Women in Computing's Ada Lovelace Award and the British Computer Society's Lovelace Medal - awards designed to recognize and encourage women's contributions to computer technology.   

Ada's name is on computer academies, college buildings, and even one of the two boring machines used to dig the tunnel for the London Crossrail project. Plus, in 2017 she became the subject of a New York Times best-seller written by Jennifer Chiaverini, titled The Enchantress of Numbers - the nickname Babbage bestowed on his friend and colleague.

Since Ada's time, women have been making significant inroads into formerly male-dominated STEM fields. Their stories are becoming part of our popular culture.

For example, Hidden Figures is a 2016 movie based on a book about three African-American female mathematicians who played significant roles behind the scenes in the U.S. space program in the mid-20th century. In particular, Katherine Johnson’s knowledge of orbital mechanics and her calculations were a crucial factor in the success of NASA's first manned spaceflight.  

Here is a clip from Hidden Figures, showing how Johnson solved a critical problem using her math skills:




So, happy Ada Lovelace Day! 



Images courtesy of Wikimedia Commons 






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