Heaven, Regency Style

It was "the seventh heaven of the fashionable world", the "exclusive temple of the beau monde", the "marriage mart" of exclusive London society. Regency wit Henry Luttell said of it:

"If once to Almack’s you belong,
Like Monarchs you can do no wrong;
But banished thence on Wednesday night,
By Jove, you can do nothing right."

On the other hand, it served "wretched refreshments", had a "bad floor", and was viewed as shockingly dull by most young men.

So just what was Almack’s, that place that has appeared in almost every Regency-set novel since Georgette Heyer?

Originally, it was an assembly room (remember that we discussed those last week?) built on King Street (behind St. James’s Square) in 1764 by a Yorkshireman of Scottish ancestry named William Almack who began life as a gentleman's valet but soon moved up in the world. Mr. Almack opened his assembly rooms in 1765, charging 10 guineas for a series of twelve weekly balls and suppers over the course of the season. Anxious to make his assemblies appear exclusive and select, Almack enlisted the aid of a group of blue-blooded society ladies to help decide who merited admission and who did not, and thus was the famous voucher system born. If the lady patronesses did not approve of you, no matter how large your estate or noble your birth, you didn’t get in to Almack’s.

Almack’s system worked. By the Regency era, Almack’s was THE place to be if one had any pretensions to being a member of the haute ton. And as a result, the lady patronesses wielded an almost ridiculous amount of power over society; the cartoon above comments on just how sought-after those vouchers to purchase tickets were. According to one story, a man challenged the husband of one of these august ladies to a duel because his wife had been refused a voucher. Others worked out elaborate schemes to sneak in. No one who had any connection to trade was admitted, and even otherwise socially acceptable army officers and members of the aristocracy might find themselves refused admission.

Within the hallowed halls, the rules were just as rigid. There was a strict dress code for men, and even those who had proper tickets might be turned away if not properly attired (even, it was rumored, the Duke of Wellington on one occasion!) Until around 1814, dances like the quadrille and the waltz were not permitted. Even after they were, young ladies had to demonstrate that they were of modest demeanor and attitude before they could get the permission of one of the lady patronesses to engage in waltzing (which was still considered a rather improper dance). And no one was permitted to enter the rooms after 11 pm, even those with tickets. Liquid refreshment was limited to lemonade, tea, orgeat (a non-alcoholic drink flavored with almonds and orange-flower water) and ratafia (a light liqueur, also fruit and nut based); bread and butter and cake were the only munchies served.

So with all these rules and the less-than-exciting atmosphere, why was it so sought-after?

Because admission to Almack’s meant that you counted. It meant that you were the crème de la crème of English society…one of the 19th century version of the beautiful people. If you were on the prowl for a "good" marriage, it was the prime hunting ground. It meant that, as Henry Luttrell said, "you can do no wrong."

Dancing: The Sport of Gentlemen?

We’ve focused on how exciting a ball must have been for the young ladies, but being able to show a nice leg was also an expectation for the young gentlemen. Much of the information we have today about nineteenth century dancing actually comes from a seventeenth-century fellow named John Playford. Here’s how he starts his The Dancing Master:

“The Art of Dancing called by the Ancient Greeks Orchestice, and Orchestis, is a commendable and rare Quality fit for young Gentlemen, if opportunely and civilly used. And Plato, that Famous Philosopher thought it meet, that young Ingenious Children be taught to Dance. It is a Quality that has been formerly honored in the Courts of Princes, when performed by the most Noble Heroes of the Times! … This Art has been anciently handled by Athenæus, Julius Pollux, Cælius Rhodiginus, and others, and much commend it to be Excellent for Recreation, after more serious Studies, making the body active and strong, graceful in deportment, and a quality very much beseeming a Gentleman.”

As the lady’s partner, the gentleman was expected to help the lady through the paces and make her comfortable. He’d offer his hand palm up, cradling hers in strength. Even the names of the dances evoke manly thoughts: Old Man be Full of Bones, Merry Merry Milk Maids, Once I Loved a Maiden Faire, Paul’s Wharf, Row Well Ye Mariners, and so on.

A dance that is a favorite now among English country dancers and contra dancers is Hole in the Wall, which dates from 1695. So, young ladies and gentlemen, study the steps and you might be able to dance it as ably as those from the 1996 television version of Emma. The couple closest to the music is the first couple (or ones), and the couple farthest from the music is the second couple (or twos).

First four measures: First couple casts off around second, leads up the middle back to place
5-8: Second couple casts up around ones, leads down the middle to place
9-10: First man and second woman change places
11-12: Second man and first woman change places
13-14: All hands halfway round
15-16: Ones case down while twos lead up the center to progress.
Repeat, with the twos moving up the line and the ones moving up. When you reach the end, you get to stand out for one cycle and flirt! Then you return to the dance as the other couple.



Still not ready to join the set? No worries! Next week Marissa and I will have more info on dancing. Then the week of the 16th, we’ll have special guest posts from the Oregon Regency Society on English Country Dancing. Don’t miss them!

The Ball: A Primer

A ball is a ball is a ball. Right?

Well, not quite. There were actually a few different types of balls that we ought to go over...so here we go!

Public Balls: Also known as "assemblies." Most towns of any size from the 1770s onward had "assembly rooms", often located at an inn in smaller towns or in their own building in larger, where local society met for lectures, concerts, and other cultural events (some even included lending libraries)... and of course, dancing! (That's the Bath Assembly room at left). The wealthier local families would often pay a subscription fee to defray maintenance costs and pay for the services of a master of ceremonies, who ran all events (hiring an orchestra, arranging refreshments, etc.) Tickets were required for admission, with cost varying. Jane Austen was an avid assembly-goer, as can be seen from her letters...as were her beloved creations, the Bennett sisters. Attendance at these assemblies was generally self-limited to the gentry--that class of smaller landed families and professionals who could be considered "gentlemen" (the clergy, military officers, physicians, barristers), though assemblies for other classes might also be held. This may sound strange to modern American ears, but don't forget that in the 19th century, class distinctions were very real and accepted, and members of different social classes did not, on the whole, like to mingle socially.

In London, public balls were also held at places like Vauxhall (the orchestra stand is seen here at right) and Ranelagh, a cross between a public garden and a circus/carnival fairway. Most notorious were the masked balls held here, where all wore dominoes (voluminous hooded cloaks with masks) that concealed identity and promoted flirtation and secret assignations in the shrubbery for clandestine lovers. Again, anyone who could pay the admission fee could come.

That certainly wasn't the case with private balls, which were, of course, by invitation only (though gate-crashing was certainly a common phenomenon!) The season was prime ball-giving time, and a ball given by her family was often part of a debutante's presentation to society. Of course those were the most elaborate: the flowers and other decorations, the food and drink, the musicians must be the best. But elaborate balls were also part of entertaining in the country, either for the neighboring "families" or during the house parties that were common during the times when Parliament was not in session and the ton vacated London for their country estates.

Next week I'll be chatting about that early 19th century institution, Almack's-- a peculiar cross between a public and private ball...but in the meanwhile, stay tuned for Friday's dance lesson from Regina. White gloves prefered but not required.

Not the Usual Line Up

So, I’m going to talk about dancing, but I truly think nineteenth century dancing is something you have to see, and, preferably, do! So, some sleuthing on YouTube revealed the following wonderful video, from our friends at the Oregon Regency Society (waves wildly!):



You’ll notice several things here. Many of the dances in the early nineteenth century were line dances, meaning that partners stood across from each other in long lines, women on one side and men on the other. In addition, many tunes had specific dances that went with them, and as a young lady you would be expected to know those steps. In the video, you’ll hear someone calling the steps, but that wasn’t actually done at balls. Instead, if you were unsure, you watched the lead dancers in the set.

You’ll also notice that the dancers move around a lot. It may look simple and stately, but, believe me, at the end of the dance, you’re winded! The partners are together a lot in this dance, but often you exchanged partners or danced with others near you for part of each dance, so conversation came in little snippets and couldn’t be lengthy, contrary to the dance scene between Elizabeth and Darcy in the most recent Pride and Prejudice adaptation.

The one exception is when a couple “stood out.” You’ll notice that too in the video. At one point the couple closest to the camera does nothing while others are dancing. Sometimes the figure of the dance and the number of dancers made for poor combination, and a couple at the top of the room (closest to the musicians) or the bottom of the room (farthest away from the musicians) wouldn’t have a role for a short while. Then, you could make conversation, and have a reasonable assurance that those dancing closest to you might not overhear. Perfect time to pass on gossip, arrange an assignation for later, or merely comment on the weather.

The dances may look sedate, but they were fraught with opportunities for young couples. Perhaps your partner holds your hand a microsecond longer than he’s supposed to. Heavens, could he like you more than you thought? Perhaps his thumb caresses the back of your fingers as you turn. My word, but you’re blushing now! And then there is “the look.”

Those of you who have been following this blog know that I dress up once a year as a Regency dandy for a soiree held by my colleagues in the Beau Monde, Romance Writers of America’s (RWA)special interest chapter for those who write early nineteenth century books. It started as a joke, but Sir Reginald has quickly become more popular than I ever was. I do get a kick out of teasing my friends by flirting outrageously. So, I’ve had my fair share of dances. I thought I’d mastered the manner of intensely gazing at a lady across the line until her cheeks heat and her eyes lower and you can tell her heart is beating faster.

And then I met Baronda Bradley.

Baronda is a member of the Jane Austen Society of America, North Texas Chapter. She kindly shared her knowledge of nineteenth-century costuming at the 2007 RWA national conference. Here she’s in a day dress she designed. However, for the Soiree, she came in a lovely ball gown, hair in ringlets, and she very kindly consented to honor Sir Reginald with a dance.

Baronda knows the early nineteenth century. Every movement, every smile said confidence and composure. She was graceful, she was demure, she was everything a well-bred young lady of nineteenth century England should be. But when she gazed at me across the line, eyes sultry and deep. . . well, I had to remind myself that I’m a happily married WOMAN and not the Regency buck I was pretending to be.

Now, where are my smelling salts?

Having A Ball

Please excuse my tardiness in posting—due to the weather in the northeast, we’re having anything but a ball. I hope everyone who’s been affected by this latest ice storm is safe and warm, or will be very soon.

What is the first image that comes to your mind when you think of the 19th century? I wouldn’t be surprised if it were a young lady dressed to the nines, ready to go to a ball, like this one at right.

Balls were probably THE most talked-about and enthusiastically attended social events…which hardly seems surprising. Wearing beautiful dresses that in some decades showed off a nicely-turned pair of ankles (as does our young lady from 1811 at left), having the opportunity to spend focused yet limited amounts of time with multiple gentleman over the course of an evening and thereby getting to check them out in a slightly more up close and personal manner, and of course, dancing! I personally can’t help wondering if nineteenth century teen girls loved balls so much because they provided one of the few chances they had, while in London for the social season, to move freely and actively. No gyms or Jazzercize classes were available, don’t forget!

I’ve talked in general about what happened at balls; over the next week or two Regina and I will get a little more specific describing actual dances and other bits of ballroom lore, and I’ll discuss and post some pictures of dance cards from my collection.

Stay tuned!

Sarcenet, Lustring, and Bombazine

[Disclaimer: I’m posting this on travel, and I’ve put in over 10 hours today. My brain is mush. Please forgive and/or ignore any typos, poor grammar, or nxblcs. What? Oh, sorry, dozed off there a second. Anyway, be kind! Thanks! Regina—who will get home tomorrow after another 9 + hour day.]
Marissa’s post on money last week got me thinking. One of the other areas where it’s sometimes hard to appreciate the terminology used in the nineteenth century is textiles, particularly in women’s clothing. The fabrics we’re used to today don’t exactly match up, for a variety of reasons.


One is that the nineteenth century saw the birth of the industrial revolution, which meant that cloth could be woven and knit by machines rather than people. Up until then, fabric was woven, dyed, and even the thread was spun by hand, giving each bolt of fabric a unique look and feel. If you’d like a fascinating, in-depth look at this process, try Elizabeth C. Bunce’s paranormal historical YA, A Curse Dark as Gold.

In the nineteenth century, clothing care was also vastly different from today. Those with money could hire a laundress, but she generally washed underthings and night clothes. Clothes worn during the day were kept as clean as possible with aprons, tear-away trim, and overskirts because getting them clean was difficult and time-consuming.

All that said, here’s a few of fabric names you see most often in historical novels:

Bombazine. The governess, aging spinster auntie, poor relation, or grieving widow is often dressed in this fabric, probably because it’s usually black. The warp (the longitudinal threads in fabric) is silk; the weft (the other threads) is wool. The combination tends to make an all-season material with very little shine. Our washable wool today might be a good approximation.

Lustring or Lutestring. A very fine, glossy silk with a bit of stiffness. Think our taffeta.

Sarcenet, Sarsenet or Sarsnet. A thin silk, often for linings and underdresses (or for those who like draping gowns that, ahem, show more than they hide). Think nylon slip, only nicer.

Spitalfields silk. Silk made in the east end of London. During the Napoleonic Wars it was considered very patriotic to wear because bringing silk from the Orient was difficult and dangerous. I have a scarf of today’s equivalent of Spitalfields silk. It’s light and floaty, and it takes color well, but it’s a bit stiffer than other silks I’ve purchased.

Want some pretty pictures and a great deal more detail? Try Jessamyn’s Regency Costume Companion. Bless you, Jessamyn!

With this Ring (and your ₤25,000), I Thee Wed

Last week I posted about the intricacies of 19th century England’s monetary system…okay, who remembers what a groat is?

This week, we’ll look at a related topic, one of great importance to a lot of teen girls in the 19th century: dowries.

So what is a dowry?

A dowry (also referred to as a “marriage portion” or just “portion”) is the money or property that a bride brought into her marriage. Families of wealth and property usually started putting aside money for a daughter’s dowry as soon as she was born (it could later be used to support her if she chose not to marry). Often it represented her share of what she would inherit from her parents on their death, but given to her upon her marriage rather than later.

Usually some part of a bride’s dowry was designated to be her settlement, an amount of money or other assets like an allowance allotted to her for her own personal use so that she would have some independent means…because her dowry pretty much became her husband’s property upon their marriage. Until a series of legal bills over the course of the middle and later century changed it, women had almost no rights in marriage—in fact, they had no separate legal existence, had no legal right to money they earned or inherited, could not sign a contract or make a will. The marriage settlement was intended to give her some independent means in case her husband should die unexpectedly or go bankrupt (assets listed in a marriage settlement could not be seized by her husband’s creditors); and she was able to make a will to designate who would inherit those assets (often younger sons, who wouldn’t inherit much otherwise.)

Okay, I know this is getting kind of dry…so let’s talk about the fun part: what having a good dowry meant.

What it meant, of course, was that a girl whose family had money could pretty much marry whom she pleased. Among the aristocracy, a standard dowry between families of equal importance usually ran between ₤10,000 and ₤30,000. If the potential bride and groom were of different social classes and backgrounds, this could change: a dowry for a girl whose father was, say, a factory owner who’d risen from the lower classes and made his fortune could range as high as ₤60,000 or more if she wanted to marry into the aristocracy…and a lot of aristocrats, especially later in the 19th century, were quite willing to “buy” a wealthy wife to shore up shaky family fortunes or provide for a younger son. Even Queen Victoria wasn’t immune to this…she was quite interested in securing an heiress named Daisy Maynard for her son Leopold, but the girl had other ideas and went on to become the Countess of Warwick (and mistress to one of Victoria’s other sons, the Prince of Wales!) By the end of the 19th century, poverty-stricken aristocrats were eagerly seeking out wealthy American brides who might bring as much as ₤500,000 in exchange for a title.

And dowries weren’t necessarily in cash; they could include houses and other real estate, jewelry, art, or pretty much any other asset agreed upon between the two families. Among the working classes a girl’s dowry could simply be the household linens and crockery she’d need to set up house, or perhaps a sewing machine so that she could earn money at home.