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!

Those Dreamy Dance Masters, or How Else Would You Learn to Put Your Right Foot Out?

Today we're welcoming guest blogger and dear friend Gail Eastwood, a fellow Regency addict, period dance instructor, writing teacher and author of seven Regency romance-adventure novels published by Signet Books between 1994 and 2002, to add to our series on 19th century dance. Welcome, Gail!

You can just imagine how the announcement that Papa had hired a dance master would set the young girls in a 19th century household all a twitter. Would he be tall and handsome? Young? Maybe he would be French, or even Scottish, with a dreamy accent. The night before he was to arrive, no doubt young hearts fluttered in anticipation, and heads filled with romantic fantasies. Who could help it?

The reality was not likely to quite measure up. While a dance master needed to be polished, sophisticated, and reasonably attractive in order to be hired (after all, you wanted to be able to impress your neighbors with your choice), if he was too young or handsome he was likely to be passed over for another candidate who presented less of a risk to the impressionable young ladies of the household. Not that anyone in the upper crust of society wealthy enough to hire a private instructor expected a real romance to blossom with one of these accomplished gentlemen. After all, they were, essentially, in trade –they had to work to earn a living. Quelle horreur!! But young ladies sometimes overlooked these practicalities of life when swept off their feet, definitely NOT part of the desired dance curriculum. I can almost hear the crest-fallen whispers from behind the window curtains the next day as the much-anticipated fellow arrived: “There he is! But, oh, look –he’s so old!”

The incentive to make Papa take this step would often be that the oldest girl in the family was approaching the age for coming out into society. A knowledge of dance was an essential social grace: the dance floor was a place where futures were often decided--where young women attracted the eye of potential marriage partners and young men caught the notice of well-connected elders who could mentor their social and political careers.

The ability to dance well required grace, balance, memory, rhythm, and that quality treasured above all else, elegance. During the 19th century, “elegance” was more than a quality to which everyone aspired; it was almost a philosophy that infused all ideas about art, beauty, and behavior. The "unstudied" elegance admired and desired in adults was for most people the result of long years of practice and training from childhood. In addition to the rudiments of understanding music, rhythms, styles of various steps, and figures of particular dances, students were taught how to stand and move, how to incline their heads to just the right degree, and how to move their arms in graceful curves that would be pleasing to the eye, avoiding such visually offensive vulgarities as (gasp!) bent elbows!

Children of the upper classes would spend hours training with a Dance Master and more hours practicing to perfect the movements and techniques taught to them. As they grew older, they would have opportunity to practice their dance skills "in company" at private functions in the home, at local fairs or festivals, and perhaps also at school. For young ladies, "coming out" in their mid-to-late teen years meant they were ready for formal socializing, and their skills might be given a final polish at local assemblies or slightly less fashionable venues like Cheltenham before being put to the test in Bath or London. At the height of the Season in London, a young lady or gentleman might attend several balls in the same week.

Those not quite so elevated in society might go to classes at the studio of a respectable dance master, and thereafter be more prepared for dances at public assemblies and private gatherings.

So, what exactly did they learn? Regina already wrote in an earlier post (with an illustration, too) about the all–important (and still in use) “five positions” that were basic to learning to dance. A thorough grounding in these foot positions was essential to understanding and performing the steps for any kind of dance, for the positions had become a kind of universal language in describing the movements. 19th century dance masters like Francis Peacock, describing Scottish steps in Aberdeen, and Thomas Wilson, writing in London, and French dance masters in Paris, all relied on the common dance language of the "Positions" in teaching and describing dance steps, and so did everyone else. Mastery of these positions and the many steps based on them was essential to developing an acceptable repertoire in a period where the actual forms of the dances themselves were often fluid and might be left in part up to the whim of the dancers.

What were the requisite dances in a refined person's repertoire? Advertising in one of his many dance manuals, Thomas Wilson listed nearly twenty types of dances, but his long and exotic list included foreign dances and ones no longer in fashion, and was no doubt designed to bring in clients. In the early part of the century, the most popular dances proper young men and women needed to know were English Country dances, Scotch reels, Quadrilles and Waltzes.

"Knowing" these dances meant much more than a simple familiarity with the figures of a single dance, as in modern ballroom dancing, however. The Scotch reels, for example (considered simple but lively), required the mastery of some ten different steps involving leaps, hops, crossings and slides of varying complexity, and the dancer was expected to combine them appropriately to fit the music. Peacock, after describing the steps in some detail in his book, writes: "…you have it in your power to change, divide, add to, or invert, the different steps described, in whatever way you think best adapted to the tune, or most pleasing to yourself." The Quadrille, too, required the mastery of a number of steps with which to perform the many figures involved in the dance, such as the SISSONNE BALOTÉ, RIGADOON, CHASSÉ, JETTÉ, GLISSADE, and PAS DE BASQUÉ. The dance itself, most often done in a square of four couples like the old cotillion, had five different sections, each with its own name, music, and series of figures.

The "scandalous" closed-couple waltz began its infancy early in the century, but exactly when is subject to much disagreement and conjecture. Was it introduced at Almacks by Countess Lieven in 1814, as Gronow later recalled? Or was it already being danced in other ballrooms before it breached the formidable walls of propriety in that august assembly? Part of the confusion is fueled by the prior existence of numerous "waltzes" that were standard English Country Dances, including one quite specifically named "The German Waltz"! There were also several types of waltzes --the French, the German, and two known as "leaping" waltzes, the Sauteuse and the Jette. That the dance was a bit different from what we know as the waltz today is clearly seen in an illustration from Wilson's 1816 manual, The Correct Method of German and French Waltzing, which shows the dancers on their toes in a variety of positions. What made it so scandalous was, first, that the couple danced independently of others by themselves for the entire dance, and second, that the whirling parts of the dance could make a young lady quite dizzy, rendering her quite out of control and at the mercy of her partner!! The venerable English Country Dance, however, still dominated the ballrooms for most of the early century. In 1808 Wilson wrote: "It is true, they all have Dances of their own; the French have minuets and cotillions, the Italians and Germans have waltzes, the Spaniards fandangos, and the Turks have dancing girls to divert them; but none of these are half so sociable or delightful as English Country Dancing."

You Want to Dance with Me? I Want it in Writing!

Okay...first, old business. The winner of the drawing for a signed copy of Sarah MacLean's The Season is:

Starry*Night!

Starry*Night, you'll be hearing from Sarah shortly to arrange mailing your prize. Thank you to everyone who stopped by and commented! Now, for today's topic...

The nineteenth century was a century of progress. I mean, think about it: at the beginning of the century, if you wanted to go somewhere you rode a horse or a horse-drawn vehicle; by the end there were railroads and automobiles. At the beginning of the century, your house was lit by candles; by the end, gas and electric lighting were available almost everywhere. And at the beginning of the century, you pretty much had to dance with whoever asked you at a ball; by the end, there were dance cards. See what I mean? Progress!

Okay, I’ll settle down now.

So what were dance cards?

Like technology, they evolved over the century. From what I’ve been able to find, they were probably first in use in Austria and may have been spread as everyone returned home to their various corners of Europe from the Congress of Vienna, that huge year-long party—ahem, series of negotiations—that ended the Napoleonic Wars (for you hard-core history geeks out there, I highly recommend David King’s Vienna 1814 for a highly readable account of the Congress). At this time, “group” dances like country dancing and the highly formal minuets where precedence and etiquette decreed whom you could dance with fell out of favor, to gradually be replaced by “pairs” dances like the waltz and later on the polka and others. And because there were now more dances per evening (as opposed to the fewer but longer country dances of the past) it became harder to remember which young men you’d promised to dance with. So young women used the adorable little notebooks that opened like fans that they already carried about in their reticules to note down shopping lists and so on, and used them to record dance partners for the evening. I've posted a photo above of a few from my collection--you can see the varying materials (bone, ivory, mother of pearl, tortoise shell, silver) and styles, as well as ways of carrying them (see the little ring on the fan-shaped one and the clip on the Indian chief one so that it could be fastened on a belt?) A few are even inscribed "Bal", or ball in French (see close-up at left). I've seen varying opinions as to when dance cards were in general use...most likely, their use grew through the 1830s until they were a commonplace by the time Victoria was queen.

Towards the middle of the century, dance cards changed: they were pre-printed booklets of paper or cardboard listing each specific dance that the musicians would play, in order. Tiny pencils were attached by a ribbon or cord to the program, and the whole could dangle from a wrist or belt, and later be preserved as a memento of the evening. They became progressively more decorative and elaborate as the century moved on, peaking with the astonishing “ballspenden” popular in Austria before World War I (check this site out for a look at how crazy they could get!)

The Wicked Waltz

As you’ve probably noticed in the videos and posts the last couple of weeks, dancing was far from a contact sport in the early nineteenth century. Fingers touched fleetingly, hands brushed haltingly. This crowd would have fainted to see Dirty Dancing.

But the waltz changed everything.

Waltzing had been sweeping Europe for some time, but historians disagree on when it arrived in England. Some claim the Countess Lieven brought it back from Vienna in 1813 and introduced it at Almack’s. The Countess was one of the patronesses, those lady guardians Marissa talked about Tuesday. This caricature by George Cruikshank with her dancing with a Russian diplomat at Almack’s is dated 1813. Others say it was Tsar Alexander who first danced the waltz at Almack’s during his June 1814 visit to England. One account has him dancing it with the Countess and Lady Jersey, another of the patronesses (although not both together, I would imagine!).

Whenever the dance arrived, it caused quite a stir. Imagine, couples touching! Locked in each other’s arms! It was called scandalous, wicked, and immoral. The London Times reportedly condemned the waltz as unseemly. The infamous Lord Byron wrote a satirical poem about how shocking it was (I find it difficult to believe it actually shocked him!). As Marissa mentioned on Tuesday, the lady patronesses of Almack’s had to grant permission before a young lady could dance it there. And mothers often refused their daughters permission to dance it anywhere else!

The waltz wasn’t generally the Viennese waltz we think of today. It actually had a number of open and closed holds. I couldn’t find an exact video of the way I’ve seen it performed by experts, but this comes close.:



Not until 1816 did the Prince Regent himself bless the waltz by including it in a formal state ball. By the end of Victoria's reign, waltzing had become the dance of choice at many a private ball and public assembly, and looked a bit more like this:



Want to know more? Come back next week for some very special posts from the Oregon Regency Society!