London Calling! Part 1

By Mary Jo

I've always been an Anglophile. I'm not sure if it's my DNA or all the books I read with British settings and British authors. I remember being surprised in school when a world map showed me the actual location of the British Isles. So far north and so SMALL! But mighty in world history, and in my imagination.

My interest in Britain and British history had a lot to do with living there for over Morris Minor Traveler two years in my 20s, when I was the art editor of a start up magazine about third World Development. I lived in Oxford and made brass rubbings in churches and drove a Morris Minor Traveler, a little station wagon with a wooden framed back structure that creaked like a ship at ship at sea when rounding corners. (Once a wheel fell off on a turn. I was told that the king pin broke, which happened regularly on older Morrises. O-kayyyy….)

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Let’s Party!

Ball-snippetAndrea here, looking ahead to February with a sigh. Where I live, it’s usually the dreariest month—gray, cold and often snowy—and seem to go on forever, even though it’s the shortest one of the year. So perhaps I can be forgiven for daydreaming about parties to chase away the Winter Blues. Dancing, laughter, glittering candlelight, champagne . . . Well, of course, as I’m a history nerd, that immediately brought to mind thoughts of the most famous party in history—the Duchess of Richmond’s ball, held on the eve of the Battle of Waterloo.

QoN Cover-smallAnother reason it flashed to mind is because I've just finished my latest Lady Arianna Regency mystery, A Question of Numbers, (it’s available for pre-order here) and the party features prominently in one of the key scenes. (Honestly, what historical author could possibly resist using it in a book set in Brussels as the armies of Wellington and Napoleon prepared to clash!)

The duchess, born Lady Charlotte Gordon, daughter of the Duke of Gordon, married Charles Lennox, Duke of Richmond, (who famously fought a duel with the Duke of York in 1789) and bore him seven sons and seven daughters. The family moved to Brussels, where the oldest son, William, Lord March, was serving as aide de camp for the Prince of Orange, commander of the Dutch forces allied with Wellington’s British army.

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Guest Tracy Grant on writing historical fiction

LondonGambitHiRezAndrea/Cara here, As most of our readers know, I'm a big fan of historical mysteries, and the Regency-set series by Tracy Grant featuring Malcolm and Suzanne Rannoch is one of my favorites. So I'm delighted to welcome Tracy back to the Word Wenches to tell us a little about her love of history and how she weaves it into her intricate plots. Like the Wenches, Tracy loves research and is an expert on the people and places that makes the Regency such a fascinating era. From the cloak and dagger spy intrigues of the Napoleonic Wars to the details of Mayfair's elegant ballroom, she paints a vivid picture of  a time of upheaval and fundamental change, and how individuals react to those challenges. So, please join me in welcoming Tracy as I hand the proverbial pen to her!


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The Stiff Upper Lip

MedievalNicola here, reflecting on the qualities associated with the
“stiff upper lip” and whether they are the type of characteristics we like to
read about in our heroes – and heroines.

No Self-Control

A new series on TV in the UK is tracing the “emotional
history” of Britain and it is interesting to discover that the nation has not
always been associated with reserve, resilience, restraint and emotional
coolness. In the Middle Ages visitors including the Dutch scholar Erasmus
commented on the fact that the English were always kissing each other, weeping,
arguing and generally allowing their passions to get the better of them.
Italian visitors to the Elizabethan court also commented unfavourably on how the
British lacked self-control. It was a time when the Brits were renowned for
letting it all hang out emotionally and it was the French who invented the word
“sang-froid” to describe a quality that their neighbours across the Channel
singularly lacked.

During the English Civil Wars of the 17th century
the Parliamentarians, famous for frowning on
Cavalier celebrations of festivals such as
Christmas, represented the virtues of modesty and discipline whilst the
cavaliers revelled in pleasure and panache. This vogue for indulging the
emotions was popular during the Restoration and by the 18th century the
word “sentimental” was a term of praise. It referred to a person of taste and
refinement, someone who would openly show emotion. Both men and women wept over
books such as Samuel Richardson’s Clarissa, and sentimental paintings were
much in fashion. The last great hero of this era was Horatio Nelson, flamboyant
and sentimental, a man who paraded his passions in public.  This was a man who had no hesitation in
asking one of his closest friends to kiss him goodbye on his deathbed. When
Nelson died the huge outpouring of grief at his funeral mirrored the emotional
nature of his life.


The Lip Stiffens 

But the Napoleonic Wars and the French Revolution were
changing British attitudes towards the
Darcy expression of passion. The French
Revolution was seen as a disastrous result of the outpouring of rampant
emotional expression. Passion was seen as dangerous to life and liberty.  At its most extreme, political passion
resulted in revolution. So it was time to stiffen the upper lip and reject the
display of emotion. Jane Austen’s heroes reflect this change. They have admirable self-control and seldom express their feelings. When they do, what
they say is concise, heartfelt but not flamboyant: Mr Darcy, for example, only expresses his admiration for Elizabeth Bennett when goaded into it by Miss Bingley. Henry Tilney in Northanger Abbey is determinedly unsentimental, rejecting the heroine's wild flights of imagination. Even Frederick Wentworth, possibly the most open of Jane Austen's heroes is still a model of military restraint, resourcefulness and fortitude. As for the heroines, Elinor, representing sense, is favoured over Marianne, representing Sensibility.

WellingtonLord Byron was another man who simply could not resist
indulging his emotions. In contrast, the Duke of Wellington came to exemplify all
that was admired in stoicism and self-control. The “Iron Duke” was emotionally
restrained. One could not imagine him asking his best friend to kiss him under any circumstances. The
story of his exchange with Lord Uxbridge at the Battle of Waterloo demonstrates this. When Uxbridge had his leg shattered by a cannonball he declared: “By God,
Sir, I’ve lost my leg!” “By God, sir, so you have,” Wellington replied calmly.

The Doughty Victorians

The Victorian era enshrined
the stiff upper lip as a virtue throughout all classes of society. Britons’
Florentia Sale
inclination to express passion was suppressed, beaten out of young men at
public school and repressed by the Church. 
Explorers and soldiers were models of cool self-control and so were the
women who supported them. Florentia, Lady Sale, during the disastrous British
retreat from Kabul in the First Afghan War wrote in her diary: "Today we
fought our way through the Jugdulluk Pass. Fortunately, I was only wounded

Much of the literature of the
Victorian period reflected this cool stoicism. Invictus by WE Henley, Vitai
Lampada by Henry Newbolt and If by Rudyard Kipling all praise the quality of
the stiff upper lip in the face of adversity. However, the flip side to such fortutide could be a lack of imagination and empathy. There was a strong backlash against the stiff upper lip at the start of the 20th century from those who felt it ironed out all sensitivity.

Is there still a place for the stiff upper lip?

Andy Murray cryingThese days there is a general
consensus that the stiff upper lip is quivering too much with
sentimentality. We Brits cry regularly – even tennis player Andy Murray, the dour Scot, gets emotional. We get
passionate for the things we care about. And yet some of the British classic
understatement and stiff upper lip does survive. In my family the enquiry “How
are you?” is always greeted with the answer “fine, thank you” regardless of
circumstances. When my other half and I were driving through the African bush
and got stuck in deep sand we took turns in digging the Land Rover out whilst
the other one kept watch for a lion attack. We needed all our reserves of calmness and fortitude then. 

I’m not suggesting that the
qualities of coolness in the face of danger, resilience and restraint are
exclusive to the Brits. Far from it. I don’t see them as the preserve of one
particular nation over another. During the Victoran period there was in fact a fear that the Americans in particular were going to overtake the British in terms of their coollness under pressure and their positive attitude. Other races were also acknowledged to possess the stiff upper lip: The Germans were renowned for their discipline, the Australians for their resilience and resourcefulness and the Nordic races for their calm.

I have to confess that I do find many of the qualities associated with the stiff upper lip to be attractive, in real life as well as in my fiction. I suppose ideally I would like a
hero who possesses some restraint and a great line in understatement, but who is still
emotionally literate enough to declare his love to the heroine. I also love strong heroines who are clever and resourceful. 

What about you?
Do you prefer the strong silent type of hero who suppresses his passion or the sort of
man like Nelson or Byron who isn’t ashamed to show his emotions in public? Or a
hero somewhere between the two? Are there any particular examples of restraint
and self-control you admire in real life or in novels? And what about the heroines? After all, the stiff upper lip isn't the sole prerogative of the male of the species!