Casual Friday: British Accents Explained

Loretta reports:

Accents have always fascinated me, often as a mystery to be solved.  Where is this person from?  In Florida, I had occasion to hear Midwestern U.S. accents frequently—but about the closest I could come to identification was “Midwestern,”  and this covered a large swath of territory, since I couldn’t distinguish Illinois from Wisconsin, let alone pinpoint cities.  Clearly, our language is not entirely homogenized yet.

Great Britain is a smaller place, yet the regional accents have managed to survive there, too, along with the mystery of their origin.  “Hmm.  Is that Cornwall or Devon?”  London I can identify fairly well, and I’ve a general sense of the north of England.  I can understand people in Glasgow, while in Edinburgh they might as well be speaking Ancient Egyptian.  It’s truly fun to hear the different ways English is spoken (another time, we can talk about regional usage and word choices) so I was delighted to come upon this short, canny sampling of accents.  This time I have to thank whoever posted it on Facebook, because due to a brain freeze, I failed to note the source.


Also, due to the technical limitations of my brain, I am offering a link rather than an embedded video.

You can listen here.

Illustration from Gray's New Book of Roads, 1824

Return Engagement: "Roman Pearls": Faux Jewels for the 18th c. Lady

Isabella reporting:

Pearls are one jewel that never seems to go out of fashion, with the earliest mentions found 4,000 years ago in China. Pearls were worn as jewelry in ancient Rome, and Cleopatra was said to be particularly partial to them. But until the development of cultured pearls in the early 20th c., however, all true pearls were made by nature and an irritated bivalve, with the result that pearls were exceptionally rare. Considered the most costly of gemstones, they were reserved for kings, queens, and others with the deepest of pockets.

Still, European ladies yearned for the look of pearls, even if they couldn't afford the real thing, and ingenious craftsmen were creating look-alikes from the middle ages onward. By the 18th c. – an era when pearls were the perfect accessory to flowing, pastel Rococo fashions – the very best faux pearls were known as "Roman pearls." These were hollow beads of blown glass, whose interior surfaces were coated with an iridescent derivative of fish scales. Once lined, the beads were then filled with wax to give them the proper weight. Despite the Roman name, the process is credited to a Frenchman, M. Jaquin, and Roman pearls were made by his family for over two hundred years. The luxury-craft is described in Denis Diederot's famous Encyclopedie, which includes illustrations of women making the beads.

Just as modern socialites wear c.z. replicas of their diamonds and keep the originals in their safe deposit boxes, 18th c. ladies often wore copies of their pearl necklaces and earrings. Sometimes, too, they would mix faux pearls with their real diamonds and other jewels. The only caveat was to keep away from the fireplace, for the center wax core of a Roman pearl was known to melt and leak on the neck of an unfortunate wearer.

Roman pearls were also the choice when fashion demanded an extravagance that no mere oyster could ever provide. Given the size and quantity of the pearls worn by these two ladies, it's likely they're wearing Roman pearls, or other similar pearly glass beads.

Mrs. Andrew Lindington, right, clearly followed the trendy motto of "more is more" when it came to accessories, and wears not only enormous pearl beads around her throat, but also edges her wired headdress with more pearls. It's possible that her earrings and the jewel on her headdress are real, but it's the glass pearls that really steal the show. Young Eliza Shrewsbury of Charleston, South Carolina, left, is also stylishly dressed with huge pearls around her throat, plus more hanging from her ears and trimming the bandeau in her hair. While the open book in her lap proves that she's as true a lady of leisure as the new American republic can boast, it's almost certain that her pearls, too, are glass – and no less lovely for being pretend.

Top: Detail of Portrait of Mrs. William Mills (Rebecca Pritchard) and her daughter Eliza Shrewsbury, by James Earl, 1794-96, Winterthur
Below: Detail of Portrait of Mrs. Andrew Lindington, by Joseph Wright of Derby, c. 1761-63, Philadelphia Museum of Art.

At the switchboard circa 1900

Loretta reports:
After the recent video teaching us how to use a dial telephone, I couldn’t resist this early 20th century switchboard.  Well, it might have something to do with my experience in a previous incarnation.  For a time I had a job that involved covering occasionally (various employees took turns) for the shop’s switchboard operator when she went on break or vacation.  Ours was a more modern, push-button system, but it took time to learn to do it well—and not drop calls or connect the wrong people.  When a lot of lights started flashing at the same time, it was easy to commence hyperventilating.  Or cry.

Not so for the shop's official switchboard operator, a terrifyingly efficient young woman who had previously worked for THE TELEPHONE COMPANY (as it was known in those days, when there was only one).  She had certain trained mannerisms that made her sound, sometimes, a little like the Lily Tomlin character Ernestine.  When she deliberately mimicked Ernestine, she was pretty hilarious.

In the early days, people rented telephones in pairs, “linking only two places together through a single line.  Though this made communication more convenient, it was expensive and impractical for a person to call multiple places.” By 1878 the exchange came into being.  After boy telephone operators proved a dismal failure, women were hired, starting in September 1878 with Emma Nutt at the Boston Telephone Company. The lady in the photograph apparently ran the switchboard from her own home, which was often the case in smaller towns.

The photos were taken at the Southwest Florida Museum of History, and quoted material is from information the museum provided.

A Gorgeous Georgian Jacket, c. 1740

Isabella reporting,

Usually when I write a blog post about a costume exhibition, it's one that I've visited. This jacket, however, is from an exhibition that's far, far away, and one that, alas, I won't be able to see in person.

Currently taking place at Berrington Hall, Herefordshire, "A Thousand Fancies" is a very small exhibition of Georgian clothing. Only a handful of pieces are included, but if the exhibition's blog is any indication, every one of them is amazing. The clothes come from the famous collection of wealthy eccentric Charles Paget Wade (1883-1956). A poet, architect, artist-craftsman, Wade was also an omnivorous collector, gathering old things that pleased him rather for following any system or plan. (Uncharitable folks today might call it "hoarding".) Whatever his reasons, his collection of 18th-19th c. clothing is stunning for both its beauty, and for the remarkable condition of many of the pieces.

This jacket with flaring skirts and exaggerated cuffs is a perfect example. Fashioned of silk brocade that has been dated to 1736-40, the color (described as "begonia French pink") is a knockout, and so is the elaborate floral design. Too often the past as imagined in faded, dusty colors: this jacket proves how bright and vibrant stylish clothes of the 18th c. could be.

While the jacket is displayed here for the photographer and not how it was originally worn - there would have been a triangular piece called a stomacher to fill in the gap between the fronts, and of course there would also have been a petticoat/skirt, shift, sleeve flounces, and a kerchief to fill into the wide neckline - it's still easy to imagine the impact a lady would have had wearing this. Talk about making an entrance!

For more pictures and information about the exhibition, see their blog here. And if any of you are fortunate enough to visit Berrington Hall to see this show, I'd love to hear your reactions.

Above: Woman's jacket, silk, 1736-40. Charles Paget Wade Collection, Berrington Hall. All photos courtesy of Berrington Hall.

Fashions for March 1834

View at source here

Loretta reports:

Since my recent books have been set in the 1830s, I’ve developed a (perhaps perverse) delight in the extravagant fashions of the Romantic era.  The exuberant craziness reached its height in the mid 1830s, then subsided into the early-mid Victorian droop (the flat hair parted in the middle is not the best look for many women).  It’s not hard to image the visual effect of the rich fabrics in candlelight and gaslight, the fluttering lace and bobbing bows, and the delicious swishing sounds as these women entered a room.

Today's historical fashions are brought to you by The Court Magazine and Belle Assemblée (one of the incarnations of La Belle Assemblée) for March 1835.

View at source here

Due to technical difficulties, my images are smaller than usual.  But if you click the captions to the Google Books source, you can enlarge as you wish.