Georgette Heyer, Regency Buck and Admiral Lord Nelson

This post contains spoilers about Georgette Heyer’s Regency Buck.

Regency Buck Pan Paperbacks

A sewing session provides a perfect opportunity to get lost in a good audiobook. I have spent many happy hours listening to the novels of Georgette Heyer – the perfect sewing companion – and was delighted when, on 5 June, 2015, her childhood home, 103 Woodside in Wimbledon, London, was given a Blue Plaque by English Heritage.

Earlier this week I was listening to an old favourite – Regency Buck (1935). This was Georgette Heyer’s nineteenth book and the first set in the Regency period (1811-1820). It isn’t my favourite Heyer novel but I have a soft spot for it because it was the first of her novels I read. I love the strong heroine, Judith Taverner, who flouts convention by driving her curricle to Brighton in an unladylike race with her brother, takes snuff, battles against the restrictions places upon her by her guardian, and ensures that looking like a mere Dresden china miss is offset by a decided air of resolution in the curve of her mouth.

Regency Buck Hardback

While listening to Judith’s story unfold, I was stitching the Nelson Quilt. To my surprise I heard something I had never noticed before: daring, unconventional Judith Taverner has been an admirer of Admiral Lord Nelson since her childhood. And this admiration is used to signal the traits of a couple of her acquaintances. Firstly, it is clear that Judith’s uncle, Admiral Taverner, is going to turn out to be a bad sort:

To relieve the awkwardness of the moment she turned to the Admiral, and began talking to him of the Trafalgar action. He was pleased enough to tell it all to her, but his account, concerned as it was merely with his own doings upon that momentous day and interspersed with a great many oaths and coarse expressions, could be of little interest to her. She wanted to be hearing of Lord Nelson, who had naturally been the hero of her school-days. It was her uncle’s only merit in her eyes that he must actually have spoken with the great man, but she could not induce him to describe Nelson in any other than the meanest terms. He had not liked him, did not see that he could have been so very remarkable, never could understand what the women saw in him – a wispy fellow: nothing to look at, he gave her his word.

Pan Paperbacks: Regency Buck

Pan Paperbacks: Regency Buck

In contrast, the Duke of Clarence, a good humoured easygoing Prince known as the Royal Tar, has much to recommend him. He joins Judith on a phaeton ride around Hyde Park:

He was not at all difficult to talk to, and they had not driven more than half-way round the Park before Miss Taverner discovered him to have been a firm friend of Admiral Nelson. She was in a glow at once; he was very ready to talk to her of the admiral, and in this way they drove twice round the Park, extremely well pleased with each other.

I hadn’t picked up on the Nelson references in Regency Buck before. I probably wouldn’t have paid them much regard had it not been for the Nelson research I’ve been doing as part of the Nelson Quilt project.

The Nelson Quilt at 2,900 squares: 28 June 2015. 300 squares to go.

The Nelson Quilt at 2,900 squares: 28 June 2015 – 300 squares to go.

I now feel I know Judith Taverner a bit better – and I would bet that some of her flaunting of convention was inspired by Nelson himself. Given Judith’s habit of taking snuff, I imagine that she would have had a decorative box to carry with her such as this one, inscribed England expects every man to do his duty, which is in the collection of the National Maritime Museum, Greenwich. Or she may have had a commemorative pill box in her reticule:

Commemorative Nelson Pill Boxes on display at the National Museum of the Royal Navy, Portsmouth

Commemorative Nelson Pill Boxes on display at the   National Museum of the Royal Navy, Portsmouth

Georgette Heyer was a meticulous researcher and very knowledgeable about the period and people of whom she wrote, weaving real events and individuals into her narratives with great skill. Judith Taverner’s admiration of Nelson would have been no accident. I’m really pleased to have found it and understood its significance while working on my own Nelson project.

Georgette Heyer's Regency Buck: Adventure! Excitement! Romance!

Georgette Heyer’s Regency Buck:                           Adventure! Excitement! Romance!

Sir John Martin-Harvey, The Only Way, and a Precious Piece of Fabric

John Martin-Harvey and Nina De Silva as Sydney Carton and Mimi in The Only Way

John Martin-Harvey and Nina De Silva as Sydney Carton and Mimi in The Only Way

As a quilter I keep a lot of fabric at home but the most precious piece of fabric in my possession is part of an old theatrical costume from over a century ago. It is very fragile so I hardly ever get it out to look at, let alone touch – I worry about its further disintegration. It is a silk sash on which someone has written the famous words spoken by Sydney Carton before he meets his death on the Guillotine at the climax of Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities. The sash belonged to an actor, Sir John Martin-Harvey (22 June 1863 – 15 May 1944), who made his name playing Sydney Carton in a play called The Only Way, based on Dickens’ novel.

The Sash worn by Sir John Martin-Harvey in The Only Way

The Sash worn by Sir John Martin-Harvey in The Only Way

It is thanks to the perilous state of the sash that the quote from Dickens can be seen; it was hidden, written into the lining – presumably by Martin-Harvey himself – but over the last hundred years the fabric has come adrift somewhat and so the secret wording can now be seen.

Of course I never saw Martin-Harvey on stage but luckily for film and theatrical historians, there is a lasting record of his most famous role. The Only Way was filmed in 1926, directed by Herbert Wilcox. Thanks to its survival we can still see the star performance of Martin-Harvey as the dissolute but ultimately heroic Sydney Carton in this silent film version.

I remember vividly the first time I saw the film. I was in Cambridge in the Spring of 2012 and it was playing as part of the British Silent Film Festival. The Only Way was on my must-see list; I love Dickens and A Tale of Two Cities is probably my favourite of his novels. I knew nothing of Martin-Harvey and nothing about the film but context was provided by the musician Neil Brand who, in introducing it, said it was a rare opportunity to see one of the great Edwardian Actor-Managers at work. Neil said that, at some screenings, as the film drew to a close, the projector would be turned off and Martin-Harvey himself would appear and recite the famous final lines – an experience loved by audiences.

To begin with, I was underwhelmed. The film began with a long, slow prologue about the Evremonde family, and, when Martin-Harvey appeared on the screen, my immediate response was “He is far too old to play Sydney Carton.” By the time the film was made, Martin-Harvey was 63 and had been playing the role of Carton on stage for 27 years. I started to anticipate grand theatrical gestures and wondered if I could slip out without disturbing too many people.

And then something happened – one of those transient moments that transform a performance entirely.

For you and any dear to you, I would do anything.

For you and any dear to you, I would do anything.

The scene is Dr Manette’s house in London. Carton comes visiting. He loves Lucie Manette but knows he cannot expect her to return his love. Instead, he tells her that he would do anything for her and for anyone she loves. And during this scene, Martin-Harvey picks up some rose petals that are lying on the table and runs them through his fingers. And that was that. That small movement transformed him. He was Sydney Carton. His tour de force at the Tribunal. The devotion of his servant, Mimi, that he fails to notice. The brilliant final scenes in the Bastille alongside other prisoners waiting for death. His inspiring courage in Mimi. And, of course, the last words: “It is a far, far better thing.” I was completely transfixed.

Since that screening, I have amassed quite a collection of Martin-Harvey items. Some of my favourites are postcards – not so much because of the pictures they feature, but because of what is written on the back. It is very clear that Martin-Harvey had a very loyal following; some fans would make a note of each theatrical performance they went to (often multiple times to The Only Way) or write down their favourite lines.

He was brought before the curtain 5 times and then had to speak.

He was brought before the curtain 5 times and then had to speak.

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Others seem to have been taking part in organised postcard swaps, like a Miss O’Rourke from Nottingham, who received lots of pictures of Martin-Harvey in 1904. One, however, seems to have been from a friend with a sense of humour and a cryptic message: The Doctor is making me send this. 

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I am afraid of sending you cards of Martin Harvey that you may have already, wrote B.P. to Miss O’Rourke in November 1904 on a postcard showing the actor in The Breed of the Treshams. Is there anyone else? From the evidence of the cards in my collection, it would seem not.

A Miss Dobbings is asked by an anonymous friend How do you like “His Serene Highness” in this garb?

How do you like "His Serene Highness" in this garb?

How do you like “His Serene Highness” in this garb?

A.C.H. saw a postcard as I came home and thought perhaps you would like it, and sent it to her friend Enid Downs in Hull, while Maggie Harwall was sent Another one for your collection by her friend Nellie. In 1910, Eva Henderson was asked by her friend Anna How do you like the gentleman on the other side? Miss Smith of West Dulwich has clearly been quite specific about the card she wanted, as her correspondent Georgie writes I do hope that this is the postcard you wanted. They had several of him but this is the only one I could see where he was sitting down. 

"The only one where he was sitting down."

“The only one where he was sitting down.”

And apart from the devoted fans, there are those intent on teasing their friends. In 1907 Mr Jack Thompson received a card featuring Hamlet with the immortal words Hallo fathead. How’s the weather up there? It’s rotten here. I am thy father’s ghost. 

"I am thy father's ghost."

“I am thy father’s ghost.”

Hallo Fathead!

Hallo Fathead!

I am intrigued by these postcards. Who were the people who sent them? Who collected them? So many clues can be found on these items and it opens up a world of theatrical devotion from more than a century ago.

You can still watch The Only Way at the BFI Mediatheque. Unfortunately, the viewing copy has no music and is completely silent – not the way it was intended to be shown – but it is there nevertheless. My advice is to just go with it. It starts slowly. But there is a moment when it gets under your skin. And from then on, it is wonderful.

A Year of Sewing Nelson

The Nelson Quilt - June 2015 - one year's work

The Nelson Quilt – June 2015 – one year’s work

I have just looked at the calendar and realised that I started the Nelson Quilt a year ago today. The project still isn’t finished but, in terms of piecing the squares, there isn’t that much more to do now. Soon I’ll have to face the challenge of working out how to quilt him!

The last year with this project has been so exciting. From an idle question (“I wonder what Nelson would look like as a quilt?”) to speaking at the NoRMMA Network‘s Performing Stardom Symposium about Nelson’s place in World War One film propaganda and the link between research and creativity, I have never felt so energised by a sewing project.

Explaining the Nelson Quilt Project at the Performing Stardom Symposium, 29 May 2015. Photo courtesy of Dr Catherine O'Rawe

Showing the Nelson Quilt at the Performing Stardom Symposium, 29 May 2015. Photograph courtesy of Dr Catherine O’Rawe

It feels strange to say that a quilt project can enhance film research but I have definitely found this to be true. Had I not started the quilt, I would not have become so interested in seeking out Nelsonia, visiting Nelson-related locations and finding out about the long legacy of sewn Nelson commemorations. All this additional research has definitely enhanced my understanding of the 1918 silent film about Nelson, directed by Maurice Elvey, and why it was such a significant piece of film propaganda at the time.

Talking about the development of celebratory and commemorative Nelsonia at the Performing Stardom Symposium

Talking about the development of celebratory and commemorative Nelsonia at the Performing Stardom Symposium, 29 May 2015

This quilt started out as an experiment – and proof of this remains in some of the fabric squares. Anyone who looks closely will see that the weave on some dark brown fabric is looser and the squares therefore slightly thicker than the rest of the quilt. Why? Well, when starting out, I wasn’t sure if the project would work or whether it would be something I would try for a couple of weeks and then abandon. When I found I hadn’t bought the right shade of dark brown for the quilt, I used whatever was to hand – in this case a different weave of fabric – because at that stage it didn’t really matter. By the time the project had grown to a reasonable size I thought about replacing those squares but didn’t get round to it. And now I like the evidence of the uncertainty and ambivalence of the early stages of the project. It reminds me that sewing can take one in unanticipated directions and can lead to so much more than one ever expected.

The Nelson Quilt - June 2015 - one year on.

The Nelson Quilt – June 2015 – one year on.

Sewing Thousands of Squares and Learning a Lesson in Slowing Down

I’m delighted to be a guest blogger for slowstitching.com. Here is my post about the Nelson Quilt, silent film inspiration and not rushing to finish.

The Slow Stitching Movement

guest-blogger

A Slow Stitching Journey of 3,200 Paper-Pieced Squares Commemorate a British War Hero,  Helps Define Research, and the Consequences of Rushing to Finish

by Lucie Dutton

As a hand quilter by preference, it is inevitable that I sew slowly. One of my quilts can take over a year to complete if it is particularly complex. The thrills of the quick make and the speedy finish are not for me. I have mountains of fabric I cannot possibly get through, unfinished quilts come in and out of favour, my sewing machines lie idle. And that is the way I like it. The Slow Stitching Movement is, therefore, a movement for me!

It is just as well that I don’t mind being particularly quick to finish quilts. Just under a year ago, I started on my most ambitious project to date – a quilted representation of the British Naval hero Horatio Nelson, 1st Viscount Nelson…

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