![Boswell’s own life set to be celebrated
He would therefore undoubtedly have been delighted to learn that his literary descendants will converge on the gardens of his old home to pay homage to the man regarded as the inventor of the warts-and-all modern biography at the inaugural Boswell book festival, on the weekend of 20-22 May.
Participants will include Diana Athill, the laureate of old age; the actor Bill Paterson, discussing his memoirs of a Glasgow childhood; and Selina Hastings, author of critically acclaimed biographies of Nancy Mitford, Evelyn Waugh and Somerset Maugham. On the Friday the actor David McKail will perform “Bozzy: an evening of Carnality, Calvinism, Clarit and Conviviality”.
[…]he Boswell Museum and Mausoleum Trust, organisers of the book festival, aim to redress the balance: their ambitious plans include restoring the family graves, and creating a museum in the author’s honour in the derelict Boswell Aisle of the adjoining church.](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lkl7n8L42x1qa5vfpo1_500.jpg)
He would therefore undoubtedly have been delighted to learn that his literary descendants will converge on the gardens of his old home to pay homage to the man regarded as the inventor of the warts-and-all modern biography at the inaugural Boswell book festival, on the weekend of 20-22 May.
Participants will include Diana Athill, the laureate of old age; the actor Bill Paterson, discussing his memoirs of a Glasgow childhood; and Selina Hastings, author of critically acclaimed biographies of Nancy Mitford, Evelyn Waugh and Somerset Maugham. On the Friday the actor David McKail will perform “Bozzy: an evening of Carnality, Calvinism, Clarit and Conviviality”.
[…]he Boswell Museum and Mausoleum Trust, organisers of the book festival, aim to redress the balance: their ambitious plans include restoring the family graves, and creating a museum in the author’s honour in the derelict Boswell Aisle of the adjoining church.
Portrait of Sarah Siddons (1755-1831) - Oil on canvas - Beach - c. 1784
Kate Vaughan as Lady Teazle in Sheridan’s School for Scandal (1886, Gaiety).
In the 18th century, the hand fan was both utilitarian, as well as decorative. There were all kinds of fans, from the extremely plain paddle fans made from paper or wood, to the most ornate made of the finest silk and adorned with fine embroidery or painting.
A lady was never seen in public without her fan, for not only was it used as a device for cooling oneself, but it served as a means of discrete and quiet communication. Both men and women understood the “language of the fan” and used it to communicate some very private sentiments while in the midst of some very public places.
The following is a list of some of the most commonly understood fan gestures.
A fan placed near the heart: “You have won my love.”
A closed fan touching the right eye: “When may I be allowed to see you?”
The number of sticks shown answered the question: “At what hour?”
Threatening gestures with a closed fan: “Do not be so imprudent.”
Half-opened fan pressed to the lips: “You may kiss me.” Et cetera…
(via my-ear-trumpet)
Silk dress - British
ca. 1780
(via)
James Gillray, ‘The Theatrical War’, 30 June 1787. A commentary on theatrical licensing and regulation, featuring, amongst others, Sheridan and George Colman the Elder and Younger.
Burlesque wouldn’t be what it became in Britain (and was then brought to the United States by Lydia Thompson) were it not for the complicated theatre regulation system in Britain!
James Sayers, ‘A Peep behind the Curtain at Drury Lane’ in which Sheridan speaks through the aperture in the curtain’, 1780.
Some more Drury Lane love for everyone. And a time to snigger at Sheridan, which were are all wont to do.
Peter Lely, Nell Gwynn, 1670s
Iconography surrounding Nell is fascinating as the 18th and 19th centuries’ obsession with her has falsely attributed so many portraits to her likeness. This one, however, seems to be legit.
Evan Sly, ‘Garrick and Hogarth, or the Artist Puzzled’, 1845.
Kyrle Bellew as David Garrick, ca. late 19th century.
I ought to ask my adviser why the Victorians were so ostensibly obsessed with David Garrick (perhaps because he really set the precedent about how we stage and watch Shakespeare?).
