Hobnobbing with the Nobs

Ever read a scene where a character wonders which glass to drink from or how to introduce one friend to another? In the early nineteenth century, members of the aristocracy didn’t have to wonder. They had been trained in the art of proper social etiquette since they were born, were surrounded by people who practiced it with some level of success. But the middle classes grew as the century wore on, and more and more people began trying to be seen as polished ladies and gentlemen. Where there is need, there is a booming business for instructions, and instructors.

My heroine, Charlotte Worthington, in Never Kneel to a Knight is one such instructor. Her job is to make sure her charges show to advantage among the aristocracy with whom they are attempting to hobnob. Other mushrooms (as those who suddenly come into wealth were called) turned to books. Etiquette books provided a knowable set of rules that promised to elevate you in the eyes of those around you. “Never dance with a gentleman to whom you have not been introduced.” “Moderate your tone when speaking—neither mumble nor shriek.”

Unfortunately, some of the advice was so specific or so vague as to be useless. I had Lord Snedley’s Guide prove such a diversion in my Lady Emily Capers. This fictious lord advised things like the following:

“On her first introduction to a gentleman, a young lady would do well to keep her eyes on his chin, unless of course he should have a pock or wart there. Raising her eyes to his will make her appear forward and staring at his feet will make the fellow uncomfortable. I also advise against staring at birthmarks or protrusions of any sort.”

“It is the darkest sin imaginable to make your hostess odd numbers at table, especially on a Tuesday.”

“Always treat a guest in your home with the greatest civility, unless of course you catch the fellow slipping silver up his sleeve or ogling the picture of your great-aunt Bess. Then, by all means, throw him out on his ear.”

“The truly fashionable are never found at home unless suffering from bilious gout or the need to hide from creditors.”

You can find more sayings of Lord Snedley here.

And may I practice polite etiquette by alerting you to two upcoming delights? Next Monday, March 25, I will be guest-blogging at Number 1 London.  As you may know, that address was the home of the Duke of Wellington. Online, it’s the home of fabulous historian and travel maven, Kristine Hughes Patrone, and I am honored to be her guest, talking about boxing during the Regency period. Try not to get lost in the gorgeous pictures she posts of England!

And be sure to come back on Tuesday, when we have a special guest blogger of our own. “Debut” author Charlotte Henry, also known as the Incomparable Shelley Adina, will be here next week to introduce her new book and share some exciting tidbits about researching her location in Cornwall.

True Politeness for Ladies

I thought NineteenTeen readers might be as smitten as I with this new addition to my library.

Measuring a dainty 4 ½” by 4” and containing 113 tips on how to behave in society, True Politeness for Ladies (or, as its title page reads, True Politeness; or the Book of Etiquette [for] Ladies does not list an author—only the publisher, Darton and Clark of Holborn Hill. I did a little digging and found that there were multiple generations of Dartons who worked as engravers and printers in the 18^th and 19^th centuries. They certainly created a charming little volume here: don’t you love the medieval illumination style of the cover, completely with gilt touches (the pages are also gilt-edged)? The cover paper is heavy coated stock, very smooth; the interior paper is also sturdy. And the printing is of very good quality: Messrs. Darton and Clark knew their business.

As I said above, no author is listed—but—ahem!—there are a great many footnotes suggesting that further reading may be done in several different volumes all penned by one Arthur Freeling, A little research reveals that he penned everything from multiple etiquette books to railway guides, from travel books to a volume entitled Flowers: Their Use and Beauty. I wish I could have found some biographical details about him—he sounds an interesting fellow!

The one think I haven’t been able to pin down is this little volume’s date of publication; Darton and Clark went into business together in 1836 and theoretically dissolved their partnership in 1843, but their imprint evidently remained in use for a few years longer. But this book lists other publications also available at the premises of Darton and Clark, so I think we have to assume this little volume came out before 1843.

And what advice might a ca. 1840 lady glean from this book? Well, there’s a dig at the fashions of the Regency:

Modesty will I hope protect you from adopting that “scanty longitude” of dress which not very long since prevailed; fortunately fashion is at the present time opposed to the indelicacy.

And amazingly, waltzing is still regarded with suspicion. Queen Victoria would not have been amused at the dig at her court:

NEVER WALTZ. –It is not opposed to the laws of Etiquette, but it is to delicacy—the most elevated society permits, nay, patronises it—yet must everybody admit, that this dance is not only subversive of delicacy but also of morality. No person who has seen much of the world—that is, who has been into the world and used his or her eyes—can deny having seen the demoralising effects of this lascivious dance. Poets, preachers, and philosophers, have condemned—yet does it still disgrace even our court. Fashion has declared it delightful, because, by its excitement, it stimulates the feelings which have been deadened by perseverance in the continued dissipation of a life of Ton—the decision of fashion is in this instance more powerful than that of poets and moralists, preachers and philosophers.—Reader, shall it prove so to you?

And I would have been an abject failure in polite society, if only for this reason:

Abjure punning, and be cautious of exercising even the most refined RAILLERY; the latter requires both observation and talent, and most people mistake satire for raillery; the one may be the offspring of a vicious, the former must be of an enlightened and benevolent mind.

No punning? No thank you!

Duty Calls, Part 3: Let's Go Visiting!

So…let’s pay some calls. It’s 3:00 pm, the accepted time to begin to pay morning calls. Yes, morning calls—morning is loosely defined as the time after breakfast and before dinner. We’re suitably dressed, with that elegant new hat that just arrived yesterday from the milliner’s shop and spotless gloves and our ever-so-pretty carved mother-of-pearl and tortoise-shell card case with the cards engraved with our name in fine copperplate. The coachman awaits us with the carriage at the door, and the footman is ready to help us climb in and then take his place riding on the little platform at the back of the carriage…

…except that there are different types of calls. Which shall we make, and where? Let’s have a look at our options:

1. Acknowledgement calls: Lady Violet Hyacinth gave such a splendid dinner last night! We’ll call on her first; it’s only polite to pay a call on hostesses within three days of attending a party or ball given by them. If it had been a ball she gave, we’d just leave a card…but for a dinner or more intimate party, it’s proper to call in person.

2. Leaving cards: We were introduced to Lady A last night at Lady Hyacinth’s party. She seems very amusing, and it would be pleasant to get to know her better. We’ll stop at her house and give the footman one of our cards to leave with her…oh, yes, Papa said that knowing Lord A could be useful for his work on the army bill in Parliament…so we’ll send in two of his cards (one each for Lord A and Lady A) and one of ours. Some time in the next week or so Lady A will return the favor and leave cards for us. If she wants to be friendly, the card she sends up will have the corner bent over—that means she’s leaving the card in person, not just having servants leave the card as a friendly gesture. If we actually home, we’ll invite her in to pay an actual visit. If she doesn’t choose to pursue the acquaintanceship but still wishes to be cordial, the cards she sends up won’t have a bent corner.

3. Visiting during an "at home": Lady B is always "at home" to callers on Tuesdays between three and five. She’s a bit of a bore, but she is a distant cousin and one should keep up the connection. We’ll stop in for the proper fifteen minutes, make light, general conversation without removing hats or gloves or pelisses (and if Papa were with us, he'd keep his hat and umbrella), and leave.

4. Calling on best friends: It’s just past five and we’ve paid several different calls this afternoon—now it’s time to visit our dearest friends, for this hour is reserved for calling on close friends. We’ll catch up on gossip and news, and maybe darling Lucy will give us a cup of tea because we’re parched after all the smiling and chatting we've done elsewhere. Refreshments are not generally served to morning callers, but certainly to friends in need!

Duty Calls, Part 2: First, a Digression

Paying calls was, as we discussed a couple of weeks ago, the social glue of female society in the 19th century. But of course, this being the 19th century, a whole slew of customs and rituals and unspoken rules evolved around the process as the century progressed. Let’s consider why that happened for a moment.

One thing I think it’s very hard for 21st century Americans to understand is just how much social class mattered in 19th century British society…the truth is, it mattered enormously. In the first decades of the century, class was pretty straightforward: if you were born in a farm worker’s family, it was almost certain that you yourself would grow up to be a farm worker. If your father was a shopkeeper, then one day you took over and became a shopkeeper in turn…and if you were a girl, you married another farm laborer or shopkeeper or whatever.

So what does that mean? A lot, because what class you were born into determined many things about you: where you lived, what you ate, your clothes, your education…but also less tangible things like your outlook on life, how you spoke, how you moved, even. You could line up a plowman, a miller, an attorney, and a duke, put them all in identical suits, and more than likely still be able to figure out almost immediately who was who. For the most part, people were happy that way; it was comforting to know where you belonged and easy to understand the people around you because they were just like you.

With the industrial revolution, this began to change. Farm laborers’ sons started working in the new factories that were springing up, and if they worked hard and showed initiative, could become supervisors and make a little more money. In time, some of them worked their way up to owning factories of their own and became very rich. But their speech and manners revealed their origins, even if they could afford grand houses and carriages and all the trappings of wealth that had formerly belonged to the upper classes.

And the upper classes were, on the whole, appalled at this development. Being a gentleman at that time meant that one did no labor nor performed a trade. Remember how we discussed 19th century medicine a few months back, and how physicians, who were considered gentlemen, resisted the use of newly-invented stethoscopes because they were tools, and gentlemen did not use tools? It was all right for a man to inherit a large fortune, but certainly not to go out and earn it with his own hands.

So say a Mr. Stubbins has worked his way up from being a coal-hauler to owning half-a-dozen textile mills and shares in a shipping firm, and has bought a splendid townhouse next door to Sir George Uppercrust. He could perhaps expect an exchange of polite nods in the street with Sir George. But the Stubbinses would never be invited to dine at their neighbors’ house, and Sir George’s wife and daughters would not call on Mrs. Stubbins and her daughters. No matter their wealth, the Stubbinses were not gentlemen...er, ladies... (well...you know what I mean!)

The problem was, the Stubbinses rode in a carriage that was just as fancy as the Uppercrusts’ carriage, and Mrs. Stubbins wore clothes just as elegant as Lady Uppercrust’s. How could people like the Uppercrusts keep the world from confusing them with people like the Stubbinses?

The answer was manners and etiquette. The behaviors that were considered to be "proper" and "well-bred" by the upper classes gradually became more complex over the century, something that you it would be hard to master unless one were born to it…which is why how-to books on etiquette and how to behave in polite society became so popular as the century progressed, from nearly none in the Regency era to a handful in the late 1830s to dozens by the 1860s and 1870s and beyond.

I hope this sets the stage a little for next week, when I’ll talk about "at homes", the corners of calling cards, and what a gentleman did with his hat and umbrella.

Duty Calls! (part 1)

In her wonderful post on Friday Regina gave you a taste of just what it was young ladies did all day during the season. All the shopping certainly sounds fun, but another frequent activity does not: making calls. Yet in many ways it was one of the most important things people did: it was the glue that held society together.

Think about it this way: today’s women (and I include teens in that) have lots of opportunities for networking, being together, establishing friendships and acquaintances. They work, go to school, volunteer in their community—all great ways to meet and get to know other people on a casual, daily basis.

But the majority of teens and women of the 19th century didn’t work outside the home, didn’t go to high school or college, didn’t help out in schools or libraries or shelters or wherever. If you were anything more than living in poverty, you were constrained by your social class to more or less stay home…but you could have a social life. And that’s where the importance of paying calls comes in.

Paying a social call was the 19th century equivalent of chatting for a few minutes by the water cooler, or between classes, or in the aisle of the grocery store. It was how you stayed plugged in to your world. So when you came out in society, your mother took you around to pay calls on her friends and acquaintances to announce that fact. If you were leaving town for a while, or when you returned, you paid calls to let everyone know that you were going or had come back. When you had accepted someone’s hospitality the night before at a dinner or party, you paid a call on your hostess in the next day or two to thank them. And while you sat for the 15 to 30 minutes that was considered polite, you gossiped, shared confidences with close friends, got to know less familiar people…all the things we do today in a very different way.

As the century progressed, an elaborate etiquette around the paying and receiving of calls evolved, partly in response to the perceived encroachment of the growing wealthy middle classes into upper class society—a way to separate “them” from “us”. I’ll go into the etiquette and proper form of calls in future posts.

More of those Nineteen Reasons

Thanks so much for writing in with your comments on what you love about the Nineteenth Century and what you'd like to see us discuss in NineteenTeen--keep them coming! Don't forget that doing so enters you into drawings for a $25 Barnes & Noble gift card or a genuine 19th century fashion print.

So here are a few more reasons why I love the nineteenth century...

7. The Manners. So maybe having to remember to curtsey to your elders and social superiors and always speak and carry yourself gently and quietly in public could feel restrictive to young women. But it also meant that in general, people didn't behave badly in public. Is that a fair trade-off? Would you prefer the more formal manners of the past? I know I would...


8. Horses. Say what you like about hot cars, but honestly, they're soulless things made in factories and one looks pretty much like another in my eyes. Horses on the other hand are individuals with personalities and differences and strengths and weaknesses that add a layer to life that we no longer have, for better or worse. And at least their emissions can be recycled.

9. Hats. I suppose that this could go under "the gorgeous clothes for women" category, but there's more to it than that. Hats are meta-clothes: they have their own language that can reinforce or give lie to the messages given by a dress or coat. A fluffy hat worn with a demure dress can give the message that the wearer has hidden depths, for example. It can flirt by giving a glimpse of partly concealed locks of hair or gracefully accenting the face, or cover up bad hair days. Women lost something when hats went out of fashion.

10. Jane Austen. I made the mistake of trying to read Pride and Prejudice when I was twelve, and didn't get past the first chapter. Even though I was a very advanced reader, I just didn't get it. But when I read it at seventeen, I realized how wonderfully funny it was and read all the other Jane stories as quickly as possible. Don't pick up a Jane Austen novel expecting something big and dramatic and passionate like Wuthering Heights (though Persuasion is a beautifully romantic story). Read it for the quiet, ironical humor and the finely drawn characters and the glimpse into nineteenth century life. If you're not a total history geek, look for a foot-noted edition that explains some of the more obscures references--it will deepen your appreciation of the humor and give you a better picture of 19th century life. Jane was one of the first authors EVER to write about ordinary people and ordinary things and yet make them totally fascinating. That's not only very important for literature as a whole, but also very cool.

What do you think?

Coming Out

In the nineteenth century, teens didn't date, or hang out, or hook up.

They came out.

Hey, stop giggling. I know what you're thinking.

"Coming Out" had nothing to do with sexual identity, though in a way it did have something to do with sex...more specifically, with marriage.

In Regina's last entry, we heard about the Season--non-stop party time in London and in smaller cities around Britain...though a Season spent anywhere but London was unthinkable if you had any social ambition. A major part of the Season was basically a marriage market: young women (as young as 16) meeting men in search of wives.

So when a girl was deemed "ready" at somewhere between age 16 and 19, she would go to London with her parents or other near relative and spend a ridiculous amount of time and money at dressmakers' shops having dresses made for every possible social occasion: ball dresses, dinner dresses, evening dresses, morning dresses, walking dresses, carriage dresses, riding habits, promenade dresses...and one very important Court dress.

Once her wardrobe was full to bursting with neatly folded dresses (hangers didn't come into use till later), a young woman of the proper social standing was then able to go to the Palace of St. James on one of a handful of designated afternoons or evenings, dressed in her Court dress with a train that could be as long as eight feet and tall, nodding white feathers in her hair...and be presented to the Queen. That meant she and a gaggle of other girls her age got to walk carefully into a room where the Queen and throngs of other people waited, curtsey carefully to whatever members of the royal family were there and kiss their hands. If her daddy was someone like an earl or a duke, the Queen kissed her on the forehead.

And that was it...except she couldn't just say "toodles" and go skipping out. No, she had to curtsey again and walk backwards from the Queen's presence--wearing that train, mind you. There were several court officials who spread her train out for her when she arrived and others who lifted her train for her on a long stick and tossed it to her...so she had to back out curtseying, catch her train over one arm, and keep walking backwards till she made it out the door.

After that, she was officially an adult. If Mom and Dad felt like it, they might throw her a ball or some other event to mark the occasion and announce more clearly that she was now entering the marriage market. She'd made her curtsey to the Queen and had Come Out, and could now party to her heart's content.

And wear all those dresses, of course.

Hand in Glove, or Not

Long, lovely, opera gloves. Is there anything more elegant? Made from supple kid leather or fine silk, they embrace your arm from fingertips to elbow and higher. Well, okay, on me they have a distressing tendency to fall down. And what was a girl to do when she wanted to eat something from the midnight supper buffet?

The answer to that little question has made for avid discussion among those of us who write about the nineteenth century. Certainly if you’re eating a formal dinner, you’d just keep them on and use your fork. But supper buffets are notorious for having the nineteenth-century equivalent to finger food. I’ve tried eating petit fours with white gloves on (oh, the lengths we go to for research!); the gloves don’t stay white.

Unthinkable that a young lady would take them off. Why, your skin might actually touch the skin of a gentleman! Scandalous! And where would you put the gloves if you did take them off? Everyday gowns and cloaks might have pockets, but you’re unlikely to find one in a ball gown. I suppose you could stuff them in your reticule, but you probably would have left the little bag, if you’d brought one, with your cloak.

So, how do you eat with gloves on? One theory is that you unbuttoned the tiny pearl buttons at the wrist of your glove and pulled the portion off your fingers and hand to bare them. Then you tucked that portion inside the glove that still covered your wrist and arm so you could eat. This actually works fairly well (yes, I know from research), until you want to put the things back on. Ever tried buttoning pearl buttons wearing a silk glove?

It’s excellent research. You should try it. If you get it to work, let me know.

So, I guess I’ll never be certain what they did with their gloves while they ate. It’s one of those things that keep me up at night. Along with great books.