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  Blisters, plasters and poultices were also popular during the period as many people believed that the body could house only one illness at a time and introducing a second illness could force out the first. Burning or blistering the skin was felt to be an effective way of achieving this and a hot plaster was applied to the skin to produce a blister which could then be drained and thus remove the original illness from the body. Plasters and poultices were commonly used to treat inflammations, chest infections, abscesses, bruising and muscular soreness. In Arabella, Mr Beaumaris sent his groom off to buy a gum plaster and when questioned by Arabella as to why he might want such a thing defiantly told her it was for his rheumatism. Plasters usually consisted of some kind of ‘curative’ mixture spread on a bandage or dressing and placed over a wound or on the affected part of the body. Poultices such as the one made by Phoebe Marlow in Sylvester were often made from readily available ingredients such as bread and milk, onions, butter and flowers which could be mixed into a heated mass and wrapped in muslin before being applied to the affected area. They were mostly used for inflammation and swelling.

  Gout was another intensely painful condition common during the Regency and was generally thought to be caused by too much rich food or drink. In Charity Girl, Lord Desford’s father the Earl of Wroxton suffered horribly from an attack of gout which was thought to have been brought on by a lavish helping of curried crab and two bottles of port. Gout was actually caused by too much uric acid in the bloodstream and although alcohol did not cause it directly, its dehydrating effect could exacerbate the condition: it accelerated the process of crystallisation which turned the uric acid into needle-like crystals in the joints and caused the extreme pain so well known to sufferers such as the autocratic Dowager Lady Stavely in False Colours, who had gout in her finger joints.

  One of the most commonly used remedies during the Regency was laudanum. Also known as ‘tincture of opium’, it was made by mixing opium, alcohol and distilled water and was taken by men and women as a medication during illness, to calm their nerves or to help them sleep, as Lady Barbara found in An Infamous Army. Freely available in the form of pills, lozenges, liniments, plasters, wines, vinegars and mixtures with reassuring names like ‘Godfrey’s Cordial’ and ‘Mrs Winslow’s Soothing Syrup’, for many Regency women and men laudanum was a source of comfort and a release from the afflictions of nerves, boredom or unhappiness. It was also addictive, as Drusilla Morville in The Quiet Gentleman inferred from the letter written by her mama which told her of ‘poor Mr Coleridge’ and his addiction to laudanum (he was taking up to two quarts a week). As well as having a bottle of laudanum at hand, sensitive ladies often carried smelling-salts (usually in a vinaigrette), hartshorn and Hungary water in case they should faint or suffer from an attack of nerves. Also known as sal volatile, smelling-salts were an aromatic infusion made from ammonium carbonate and alcohol and scented with lemon or lavender oil. Sufferers breathed the vapours which caused them to inhale sharply and then breathe more rapidly. They often carried their salts in a vinaigrette, a small decorative box or bottle with a perforated top which held smelling-salts or a piece of gauze soaked with lavender water or vinegar. Lady Castlereagh kindly lent her vinaigrette to Jenny, Lady Lynton, in A Civil Contract after Julia fainted at a party at Nassington House. Ladies (and some gentlemen) sniffed the contents whenever there was an unpleasant odour or if they felt faint. Hartshorn was another popular restorative and, although originally made from carbonate of ammonia distilled from shaved or powdered hart’s (male deer) horns, by the time of the Regency spirit of hartshorn (aqueous ammonia) was simply ammonia infused with water and was another form of smelling-salts. Francis Cheviot in The Reluctant Widow demanded that both his hartshorn and his smelling-salts be brought to him immediately on the discovery of Mrs Cheviot’s inert form. Both hartshorn and sal volatile could also be mixed with water and drunk as a restorative. Hungary water was named after Elizabeth, Queen of Hungary, and was a sweet-smelling distilled water made from rosemary and other herbs and flowers, and used as a perfumed restorative which could be dabbed on the temples or applied to the hands and face of a person suffering from headache or an excess of nerves.

  OTHER DIVERSIONS

  By the time of the Regency, Bath was no longer the highly fashionable resort it had been during the eighteenth century—fewer of the aristocracy graced the Pump Room, baths and Assembly Rooms—yet the town still attracted the well-to-do and genteel to its elegant hotels and lodgings. There was a certain ritual to life in Bath that suited many of its inhabitants, beginning with the visit to the Pump Room each morning to drink the waters. Some people went there several times a day in order to meet friends, listen to music or take a second, or even third, glass of mineral water. In between times, as young Lucilla Carleton in Lady of Quality discovered while staying in the town, Bath offered other diversions such as the excellent shops on Milsom, Bond and Stall Streets, several circulating libraries, a number of coffee-shops, the Theatre Royal in Orchard Street and numerous opportunities for scenic walks, carriage rides, picnics and promenades.

  Built in 1762, Milsom Street in the centre of Bath was a bustling corridor of activity with modistes’ and milliners’ shops, Duffield’s bookstore and circulating library (where in Bath Tangle Lady Serena unexpectedly met the handsome Major Kirkby), and carriages and sedan chairs carrying passengers up and down and various tradesmen’s establishments offering a range of goods and services. Duffield’s and Meyler’s, in the Orange Grove (an area originally surrounded by trees and named after a visit by the Prince of Orange), were two of Bath’s main libraries in which, for an annual fee of 15 shillings or 5 shillings a quarter, subscribers could read the local and London newspapers, borrow the latest novels, and peruse various French and English periodicals. Lady Serena was a regular visitor to Duffield’s as were the Wendover sisters and their niece Fanny in Black Sheep. A famous Bath resident, Fanny Burney (Madame D’Arblay) once wrote that Bath was a city in which no carriage was needed and, despite the hilly topography and steep streets, many visitors and residents enjoyed walking about the town and surrounding countryside. For those unable—or unwilling—to summon the energy to climb the slopes, however, a sedan chair was usually the preferred mode of travel, carried by a pair of licensed chairmen at a cost of sixpence for 500 yards in the lower town, 300 yards on hilly terrain, a shilling for distances between 500 and 1,173 yards and 1s.6d. above that—but not exceeding a mile (1,760 yards). Mrs Floore in Bath Tangle was one Bath resident who refused to take a chair, however, having declared herself too stout and confessing to Lady Serena that she was afraid the chairmen might drop dead between the poles. For those content to walk, the fields below Royal Crescent were a delightful rendezvous for friends and lovers and were also popular with picnickers, while those wanting a view of the city generally found the longer walk to Beechen Cliff very rewarding. A ride up to Lansdown with its view of the Bristol Channel was an agreeable outing and one which Fanny Wendover in Black Sheep enjoyed in the company of her aunt and several friends. The town of Wells, with its beautiful cathedral, was another favoured destination within easy reach of Bath and made an agreeable day’s outing in a carriage or on horseback. On Sundays it was considered de rigueur for the well-bred and fashionable to attend services at Bath Abbey, the lovely medieval church adjacent to the Great Pump Room.

  Intended as the ‘Vauxhall of Bath’, Sydney Gardens opened in 1795 and were an immediate success, with their inviting alcoves and arbours, groves of trees, formal flower-beds, gravel walks and gently sloping lawns which offered enticing views across the town and the surrounding countryside. A subscription of 10s. entitled the subscriber, not only to all the pleasures of the season’s programme of promenades, musical entertainments, alfresco breakfasts and illuminations, but also to the particular attractions of this ‘Vauxhall’ of Bath. In The Foundling, it was to Sydney Gardens that the Duke of Sale sent his young friend, Tom Mamble, to while away several hours enjoying all the famous attrac