You Just Never Know

A few weeks back when I was writing posts about parasols, I decided to have a quick look at some of the advertising circulars I have from Ackermann’s Repository and La Belle Assemblee, to see if there was any mention of parasols from any of the shops advertising in it. The first one I picked out, at random, was the Advertisements section from January 1811’s Ackermann’s. As I (carefully) flipped though its pages, I noticed an advertisement for books...in particular,

“In a neat Pocket Volume, handsomely printed, and embellished with superb Plates of Ladies’ Dresses, price 5s.; or on fine Paper, with coloured Plates, 7s 6d.

THE MIRROR OF THE GRACES;

or,

THE ENGLISH LADIES’ COSTUME

IMPARTING  the Art of combining TASTE, FASHION, and ELEGANCE, with MODESTY, ECONOMY, and JUDGMENT IN DRESS; also the Means of adapting the various ARTICLES OF FEMALE EMBELLISHMENT to different Ages, Forms, and Complexions, and preserving Beauty, Health, and Loveliness throughout Life, without the aid of injurious Cosmetics, or any spurious assistance from the Toilet.

Founded upon Principles agreeing with the Feelings of Nature and the Rules of Propriety.

COLLECTED BY A LADY OF DISTINCTION

who has attentively studied what is considered truly graceful and elegant amongst the most refined Nations of Europe."

I will admit that I gave a bit of a jump...because this little gem can actually be found in reprint form at your favorite on-line book retailers (or free to view online at https://archive.org/details/mirrorgracesore00distgoog) It was republished under the name Regency Etiquette  and subtitled The Mirror of Graces (1811)—a rather misleading title, since it has almost nothing to do with etiquette. It was undoubtedly popular back in its day—the advertisement noted that there would be a delay in its release because the bookseller had been forced to go back to press to satisfy the large number of pre-ordered books, and subsequent (and possibly pirated) editions were published in New York, Edinburgh, and Boston. I recommend you have a look—the style can be a little heavy-going (and unintentionally amusing to modern readers) but it’s a fascinating precursor to today’s fashion and beauty magazines and self-help books...and a mirror not only of “the graces”, but also what society’s expectations were of women in that time.

Another book you might have heard of is also due out in reprint form...By Jove is now available in a print edition, if e-books aren’t your cup of tea. ☕ ☺

Beauty, 19th Century Style, Part 2: Skin Care Recipes, or Everything I Need to be Beautiful can be Found at the Supermarket

Our 19th century girls couldn’t run down to the mall to pick up the latest beauty products…instead, they went down to the larder and out to the garden when they wanted something to remove freckles, or fade the tan they accidentally got at that picnic on Monday, or soothe chapped lips. Here are a few recipes for beauty products I found in The Lady’s Stratagem, compiled by Frances Grimble from a variety of early 19th century sources, as well as from The Mirror of Graces, anonymously published in 1811 by a Lady of Distinction.

Do any of them actually work to remove freckles or tan or pimples? I have no idea; some of the receipts call for unpleasant ingredients (a face wash of poultry blood to remove tan, for example!), and others call for ingredients no longer generally available, like spermaceti (a whale product) and musk. On the other hand, sweet almond oil and cucumber are used today in skin and body products…so who knows? Happy reading!

Cucumber Pomatum
This pomatum, which I have so often recommended for all faults in the skin, is prepared thus: take a quantity of fine olive-oil proportionable to how much pomatum you want. Grate white cucumbers in a quantity equal to the oil. Put the whole in a dish or a silver tumbler and place this vessel in a water-bath [like a double boiler]. Stir its contents continually with a silver soup-spoon, which replaces the pharmacist’s spatula. Continue to stir the mixture for some time, but do not let it boil; then strain it through a cheese cloth. Repeat the process with the same oil up to six times, always keeping the heat of the water-bath below the boiling point. This fine pomatum, white as snow, should be covered and used at once, because it turns rancid with time.

Lip Salve
A quarter of a pound of hard marrow, from the marrow-bone. Melt it over a slow fire, as it dissolves gradually, pour the liquid marrow into an earthen pipkin [that's one, at left], then add to it an ounce of spermaceti, twenty raisins of the sun, stoned [seeds removed], and a small portion of alcanna root, sufficient to color it a bright vermilion. Simmer these ingredients over a slow fire, then strain the whole through muslin; and while hot, stir into it one tea-spoonful of the balsam of Peru. Pour it into the boxes in which it is to remain; it will there stiffen, and become fit for use.

Pomade de Seville
(This simple application is much in request with the Spanish ladies, for taking off the effects of the sun, and to render the complexion brilliant.)
Take equal parts of lemon juice and white of eggs. Beat the whole together in a varnished earthen pipkin, and set on a slow fire. Stir the fluid with a wooden spoon till it has acquired the consistence of soft pomatum. Perfume it with some sweet essence, and, before you apply it, carefully wash the face with rice water.

Oil of Bitter Almonds, to cure Sun-burn and Freckles
Remove the yellow skins from some bitter almonds. Crush the almonds well, and press out the oil. Only a small amount should be prepared at a time, because it evaporates and easily turns rancid.

Preparation of Dr. Withering, to dispel Eruptions of the Skin
Squeeze out the juice of a leek, mix it with an equal quantity of sweet milk or cream, and use it to wash the pimples, which will dry up and promptly go down without leaving spots.

Beauty, 19th Century Style, Part 1: Detestable Compositions

Today it’s no big deal for young women to use lipstick, eye pencils, and any other number of cosmetics to improve on nature or conceal temporary blemishes. In the early 19th century, however, it was rather a different story. For one thing, in those days, make-up could kill—literally!

Up until the 20th century, the ideal of feminine beauty was a white skin tone, untouched by the sun. For those not naturally gifted with a pale, clear complexion, there was always “paint”, the “detestable compositions” of today’s title—compounds usually containing heavy metals like lead and antimony which might give one the desired, smooth, white skin, but were also highly neurotoxic (and, in the end, actually corrosive to the skin). Furthermore, there was an association of make-up with the stage and actresses, who were thought to be of uniformly light virtue. So is it any wonder that the use of anything to alter the appearance of one’s skin was regarded by most with at least deep suspicion?

But even the most curmudgeonly of 19th century texts agree that sometimes, Mother Nature needs a little help. All agree good general health and cleanliness to be the best promoter of a clear, handsome complexion, though they don’t always agree on just how to achieve them (is cold air a bane or boost?) But when Mother Nature doesn’t come through, a little rouge to the cheeks—the extract of safflowers or red sandalwood or cochineal (made from the crushed bodies of an insect native to Mexico and South America) is permissible…and that’s about all. Don’t even think about lipstick or eye make-up:

The article of rouge, on the grounds I have mentioned, is the only species of positive art a woman of integrity or of delicacy can permit herself to use with her face….nothing but selfish vanity, and falsehood of mind, could prevail upon a woman…to lacquer her lips with vermilion….Penciling eyebrows, staining them, &c. are too clumsy tricks of attempted deception…. (from The Mirror of Graces, 1811).

Of course, if a young lady wished to impress a young man with rosy lips to match her complexion, there was always the old trick of raising one's fan before one's mouth and biting the lips into pink plumpness...

Our next installment on 19th Century beauty will be Skin Care Recipes, or Everything I Need to be Beautiful can be Found at the Supermarket…but first, we’ll be welcoming Regency author and dog expert Judith Laik back to Nineteenteen next week with a look at the one of the century’s most enthusiastic dog fanciers.