1810, What a Year It Was...Except When It Wasn’t

Last week I mentioned that I had intended to write a post for my 1810 series about the celebrations in observance of George III’s fifty years on the throne. It was kind of a big deal—only three other monarchs since the Norman Conquest (Henry III, Edward III, and James I—and James only squeaks in because of his years on the throne of Scotland as James VI before he became James I of England) had been fifty years on the throne. I blithely assumed that the king’s jubilee took place in 1810—specifically, on October 25, which was the 50^th anniversary of the day he became king on his grandfather George II’s death in 1760. But all my poking around into the events of 1810 made no mention of a jubilee celebration in 1810. Weird, I thought. Maybe it wasn’t celebrated because of the war, or...or something.

And so I continue to think...until last week's research into a darling Jubilee cloak print from La Belle Assemblee made me dig deeper and discover the real reason why there were no jubilee celebrations in 1810... Because they'd all happened in 1809!

I was able to find a fair bit of information about the jubilee observances themselves, but no explanation for why they were held at the start of the 50th year of his reign and not on the anniversary of his assession. The closest I've gotten to an explanation is that it was generally known that the king's health was not good, and it seems that many people were worried that he might die before the anniversary itself. Evidently plans for celebrations were a bit of a last-minute thing They needn’t have worried: in fact he lived for another ten years, outliving Queen Charlotte, though nine of those were spent in a twilight of dementia. By summer 1809 it looked as thought the poor old man would survive, so the tentative plans began to firm up (evidently the first sign of the impending celebrations was a sharp increase in the cost of candles, which were being hoarded for illuminations.)  Sadly, he would not be able to enjoy many of the spectacles that were eventually held in his honor, because his eyesight was almost completely gone by this time.

So how was the jubilee observed?

The King and the royal family attended a service of thanksgiving at Windsor, where the queen later threw a spectacularly splendid fete for the court. But there were plenty of less solemn observances all over the country: many of the nobility had oxen and sheep roasted and basically held barbecues for their tenants and workers, with games and races and bread and ale to go with the meat. Assembly balls for the middle classes in towns and larger villages and fireworks and illuminations in the cities were also widespread. After the fact many communities erected public monuments and statues in honor of the king's anniversary. And of course, there was merchandise. You can still buy George III Jubilee medals on eBay (yes, really), and for the wealthier souvenir hunter there were commemorative dishes, glassware, and my favorite, a child’s game celebrating the glories of the kings of England.

In a way it was probably a good thing that George's jubilee celebrations happened in 1809; by the actual anniversary of his accession in October 1810 he would be in even poorer health—on the verge of his final collapse (the Regency would be declared in January)—and his beloved daughter Amelia on her deathbed. I doubt anyone would have felt much like celebrating.

Not Quite Trick or Treat, but Almost

I was in a large party supply store a week or so ago looking for napkins. I found them, eventually, after wading through the front two-thirds of the store that was entirely given over to Halloween-related goods, from 15-foot tall inflatable lawn ornaments to every conceiveable costume--for children, yes, but especially for adults. Am I the only one to notice that over the last several years, Halloween has morphed from a children’s holiday to one just as popular among grown-ups? I guess some things never change, because people in the 19th century loved dressing up in outlandish costumes just as much…only they didn’t do it at Halloween.

The 19th century was undoubtedly the century of the costume ball. Their popularity in England probably grew with our friend Prinny, the Prince Regent, who adored “dressing up”, first in military uniforms, then later in Scottish dress as he fell in love with the romanticized Scotland of Sir Walter Scott’s novels…and from there, it was a logical progression to adoring costume balls. A few years later, his niece Victoria was equally addicted to costume balls up until the death of the Prince Consort in 1861, and they remained popular at court (though she no longer participated) and in society at large right into the 20th century. Historical and cultural themes for costumes--dressing up as someone from the past or from a different land--were probably the most usual, especially earlier on, but as you'll see shortly, costumes weren't limited to Queen Elizabeth or romantic cavaliers.

Here are a few costumes from the first part of the century for your Halloween inspiration (a post on the costume balls of the later 19th century would require its own post, as another Prince of Wales, Victoria’s bad boy son Bertie, also loved to play dress-up). Enjoy!

This first one is a "Danish Fancy Dress Worn at the Prince Regent's Fete", from La Belle Assemblee, August 1819:

And a "Fancy Ball Dress" also from La Belle Assemblee, August 1820. Perhaps she was going for the milkmaid look?

The young lady on the left is dressed as one of the waiting women of Mary Queen of Scots in this March 1833 print from The Court Magazine:

I'm not sure what these costumes are supposed to represent, though the one on the right seems to have a somewhat Russian feel, with her vaguely slavic headdress and fur-edged boots (this from a French publication, Petit Courrier des Dames, March 1837):

Medieval themes were popular, as we see in this couple from 1838...interesting to see a male costume, and how a 14th century "gates of hell" surcoat could be adapted to a 19th century corseted silhouette (Journal des Modes):

Last are a pair of costumes from 1838...first, these from La Mode--perhaps a musketeer and a revolutionary?

And last, these "15th and 16th century" costumes, also from La Mode:

Are you dressing for Halloween? Would you want to borrow any of these costumes?

Partying Hearty: The Ball

The quintessential 19th century party, the one most celebrated in thousands of Regency and Victorian novels, is the ball. And what’s not to love? Dresses and jewelry to die for, handsome young men in evening clothes, and license to flirt (discreetly, of course) with several of them over the course of an evening…it just didn’t get better for a nineteenth century girl.

Early on in the century, balls could be public--held in a town’s Assembly Rooms (a sort of public gathering place) and attended by anyone who paid the subscription fee--or they could be private parties, by invitation only. Assembly balls fell out of fashion by the 1830s, and thereafter most balls were private parties thrown by an individual or by a private organization (for example, charity balls for fundraising purposes).

So what happened at a ball?

Well, dancing, of course. But it was also customary to provide a room for elderly or less spry guests to play cards for the evening while the younger and more active folks danced. There was also generally food--ices and cool drinks in a room near the ballroom for a quick pick-me-up between sets, and a supper buffet served sometime in the wee hours of the morning.

So say you’re the Honorable Miss Petunia High-Instep, dressed to the nines like the young ladies in the prints I’ve posted here (note that the dresses worn to balls are a little shorter, presumably to avoid anything so catastrophic as tripping on one’s hem). What happens when you go to a ball?

You’ll arrive with your parents or other relatives…certainly not alone and without a chaperone! You leave your cloak or other wrap in the ladies’ cloakroom (staffed by a maid who was available to repair wardrobe or hairdressing mishaps). You might be greeted by the host and hostess if it’s still early in the evening (sometimes you might attend two or even three balls in one evening!) and then your mother or aunt or married sister or whoever has accompanied you will set up camp on the chairs lining the ballroom, preferably near friends to chat with…and you seat yourself with your gown becomingly arranged and wait for an invitation to dance.

When a gentleman approaches, he'll ask you to dance…meanwhile, Mama has a few seconds to check him out and nod approval. If you (or she) don’t like his looks, you can refuse…but that means you're doomed to sit that dance out, as it was not done to refuse one man and accept another after that. More than likely you say yes, both because it's dreadfully boring to sit there and watch other people dance, and so that you won’t appear to be a wallflower whom nobody wants to dance with.

You make some amount of polite conversation during your dance, and then the gentleman escorts you back to Mama and either leaves you there or asks permission to take you to the refreshment room for a quick glass of lemonade (if he's cute and you want to prolong the encounter, you can encourage this by fanning yourself and dramatically proclaiming how parched you are as he walks you back to your chair). If you're lucky, someone you like asks you for the “supper dance”, the last dance before the musicians take a break and everyone troops down for the buffet supper.

As you go to more balls, you get to know the usual crowd and learn whom you like and whom you don’t, which men are definitely worth encouraging (wealthy, titled or heir to a title, well-behaved and interesting) and which aren’t (younger sons who wouldn’t inherit much, utter boors/bores, rakes who are only looking for a good time).

Balls could be great fun if the music was good, if there were more men than women (which would help cut down on the percentage of wallflowers), if the guests were amiable…or they could be dreadful if the reverse were true. But everyone went to them.

There’s a lot more to talk about--the types of dances, for one thing--but we’ll cover that in a future post.

Presenting...the Winner!

Not that everyone who commented isn't a cherished reader...but the name I pulled out of my Red Sox World Champions cap is...

ANDY!

Andy, please stop by the contact form on my website (http://www.marissadoyle.com/) and send me your mailing address so I can send a copy of Bewitching Season to you as quickly as possible.

And thank you, all, for stopping by and commenting. Regina did a fabulous job with the interview questions and quiz, and I'm looking forward to returning the favor in the not too distant future.

In the meanwhile, speaking of "Presenting..."

May was the height of "the season", that London social whirl (and marriage market) that coincided with the sitting of Parliament just after Easter. An important part of a girl's first season was being "presented" to the king/queen/another royal filling in for the monarch, at either an afternoon "drawing room" (where young girls usually first made their debuts) or an evening "levee". Being presented meant that the monarch recognized you socially--which meant you were eligible to attend court events. Not everyone could be presented: for example, the wives and daughters of clergy, military and naval officers, barristers, and physicians could be presented...but those of merchants and businessmen, solicitors, and general practitioners could not. Girls were presented when they first came out in society, then again when they married...assuming their husbands were of acceptable rank or profession, of course!

The act of being presented to the monarch was quite an event...think of high school graduation, but way more formal and solemn. For example, there were rules about what you could wear, especially later on in Victoria's reign...these dictated everything from the neckline of your gown (you needed a note from a doctor if you wanted to wear a high-necked gown!) to the height and number of feathers you wore in your hair to what you carried (a bouquet was standard, or at least a beautiful fan) to the length of your train (and yes, you had to have one--a minimum and maximum length were given). The guys had rules about what they wore too, depending on who they were (military or civilian, for example), time of day, and so on.

Then you had to go through the acrobatic act of the presentation itself (I discussed this back in October) with walking backward while curtseying and having your train tossed to you...but then the real fun began: the parties!

Look for future posts about how the nineteenth century teen partied till she dropped.

P.S. There are some very cool books on this topic that you can probably find in your local library if you want to learn more. I recommend The Party That Lasted 100 Days by Hilary and Mary Evans, Splendour at Court by Nigel Arch and Joanna Marschner, Gilded Butterflies by Philippa Pullar, and To Marry an English Lord by Gail MacColl and Carol McD. Wallace