“Favorite dogs are never welcome visitors in a drawing-room.”
Martine’s Hand-Book of Etiquette, 1866.

Lady and a Greyhound by Václav Brožík, 1896-97.
(National Gallery, Prague Castle)

In the Victorian era, etiquette books offered very specific advice on how to conduct oneself when paying a social call. In some cases, this advice differed from book to book and decade to decade, but in one respect all the etiquette manuals throughout the Victorian era seem to agree. When paying a call on a friend or acquaintance, one should never bring along one’s dog. As the 1840 book Etiquette for Ladies states:

“To carry children or dogs with one on a visit of ceremony, is altogether vulgar. Even in half ceremonious visits, it is necessary to leave one’s dog in the ante-room…As for animals, it is a thousand times better not to have them at all.”

By the 1860s, advice relating to visitors’ dogs in the drawing room was relatively unchanged. Expounding on the subject in his 1866 Hand-book of Etiquette and Guide to True Politeness, author Arthur Martine informs his readers that:

“Favorite dogs are never welcome visitors in a drawing-room. Many people have even a dislike to such animals. They require watching lest they should leap upon a chair or sofa, or place themselves upon a lady’s dress, and attentions of this kind are much out of place.”

Mastiff Holding a Calling Card by Otto Eerelman (1839-1926).

The strictures on dogs in the drawing room remained in place throughout the Victorian era in both England and America. For example, in her 1877 book the Ladies’ and Gentleman’s Etiquette: A Complete Manual of the Manners and Dress of American Society, author Eliza Duffy writes:

“Never allow young children or pets of any sort to accompany you in a call. They often prove very disagreeable and troublesome.”

While in her 1893 book Rules of Etiquette & Home Culture, author Mrs. Walter Houghton advises that:

“Callers should never take children or pets with them, as they are apt to be very annoying to some people.”

This advice was all well and good for the visitor who brought a dog along with them, but what was a guest to do if the dog in question belonged to their hostess? Fortunately, Victorian era etiquette manuals offered advice on this subject as well. In her 1884 book Etiquette, the American Code of Manners: A Study of the Usages, Laws, and Observances, author Mary Sherwood gives her readers instructions on how to behave if they encounter a dog in the drawing room of their host or hostess. She writes:

“The family dog is a very hard case to manage. If he be ugly, and frighten you, go around him cautiously; if he be dirty and offensive, and if, like Macbeth’s crime, ‘he smell to heaven,’ never speak of it. A family are always sensitive on this point. They will defend the dog at the cost of their lives, and as a guest, if you would preserve your popularity, do you also defend, praise, and endure the family dog.”

Lady with Dog and Parasol by Fernand Toussaint (1873-1956).

Sherwood goes on to advise that it is a guest’s job to be “as agreeable as possible.” Therefore no matter how bad the weather or how bad-smelling or bad-tempered the resident family dog, a guest must “never abuse the weather, or the family dog.” In her 1891 book Polite Life and Etiquette, author Georgene Benham goes one step further. Instead of merely refraining from verbally abusing or criticizing the family dog, Benham advises actively befriending domestic pets. To do so was as much a measure of good character as any other social grace. She writes:

“Do not hesitate to be the friend of any domestic animal. How rude, senseless, weak, and degrading it is to abuse the poor dog, cow, or horse, our servants and slaves. True, they were created for us, but for use, not to abuse.”

The general advice on bringing dogs along when visiting a friend or acquaintance seems fairly sensible and straightforward. What is not made clear in Victorian era etiquette manuals is whether this advice also applies to small lapdogs which a visiting lady might hold in her arms. After researching this topic quite a bit, I tend to think that the advice was geared more toward larger dogs who often jumped up on people and furniture. This is not to say that small dogs were wholly welcome in the drawing room of one’s host or hostess. In fact, when let down onto the floor, small dogs could often be just as destructive as their larger brethren.

A Dispute – King Charles Spaniels by Benno Adam (1812-1892).

Thus concludes another of my Friday features on Animals in Literature and History. If you are interested in adopting a dog or if you would like to donate your time or money to a rescue organization, I urge you to contact your local animal rescue foundation or city animal shelter.  The below links may also be useful as resources:

The Humane Society of the United States (USA)

Battersea Dogs & Cats Home (UK)

**Author’s Note: The manuscript for my upcoming book The Pug Who Bit Napoleon: Animal Tales of the 18^th and 19^th Centuries is currently at my publisher and, if all goes well, will be released later this year. I’d like to say that this allows me more time to write articles here at MimiMatthews.com and elsewhere, but my next book A Victorian Lady’s Guide to Fashion and Beauty is due to the publisher on July 1st, which means I am just as busy as I was before.  I’m hoping to resume a regular schedule of animal history posts when things calm down a bit.  Thanks for sticking with me!

Sources 

Benham, Georgene Corry. Polite Life and Etiquette: Or, What is Right and the Social Arts. Chicago: Louis Benham & Co., 1891.

Duffy, Eliza Bisbee. The Ladies’ and Gentleman’s Etiquette: A Complete Manual of the Manners and Dress of American Society. Philadelphia: Porter and Coates, 1877.

Etiquette for Ladies: With Hints on the Preservation, Improvement, and Display of Female Beauty. Philadelphia: Lea & Blanchard, 1840.

Houghton, Mrs. Walter. Rules of Etiquette & Home Culture: Or, What to Do & how to Do it. New York: Rand, McNally, & Company, 1893.

Howard, Lady Constance. Etiquette: What to Do and How to Do It. London: F. V. White & Co., 1885.

Martine, Arthur. Martine’s Hand-book of Etiquette and Guide to True Politeness. Bedford: Applewood Books, 1866.

Sherwood, Mary Elizabeth Wilson. Etiquette, the American Code of Manners: A Study of the Usages, Laws, and Observances. New York: George Routledge & Sons, 1884.

© 2015-2017 Mimi Matthews

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‘As the supply alluded to is to be levied upon all old maids, beyond a certain age, and intitled to certain yearly or other income; I make no doubt but both Houses of Parliament will speedily manifest their hearty concurrence thereto.’
The London Magazine, 1777.

A Visit to Grandmother by John Raphael Smith after Thomas James Northcote, 1785.
(Five Colleges and Historic Deerfield Museum Consortium)

The 1777 edition of the London Magazine includes an interesting letter to the editor in which a gentleman—who signs himself as ‘A Friend to the Community’—has appended a proposed bill to levy a tax of ‘6d. in the pound’ on old maids. He claims that this tax will generate revenues of nearly £300,000 per annum, a sum which could then be used to help fund the British war against the American colonies. The proposed bill begins by stating:

‘That all maids, intitled to a clear yearly income of 100, or 1000l. in the whole, and so in proportion to any fortune above that sum, do at the age of 27 years (being the time limited for the commencement of their old maidship) register themselves in the books of the lord lieutenant of the county they live in, and then and there give in a true and particular inventory or schedule of all their real and personal estate…’

The bill goes on to state that any old maids of twenty-seven years or older who failed to register with the lord lieutenant of their county and give an inventory of their property would be penalized by having ‘a fourth of their fortune forfeited for the first offence’ and ‘double that sum for every other the like omission.’

Virgo – Unmatched Enjoyment by George Cruikshank, undated.
(Yale Center for British Art)

The bulk of the author’s ire seems to be directed at ladies who were old maids by choice—those women who refused offers of marriage in order to remain independent or to keep control of their own money and property. For women who remained unmarried simply because no man had ever asked them for their hand, he is much more sympathetic. In fact, he exempts these ladies from the proposed tax altogether, writing:

‘And be it further enacted, by the advice and authority aforesaid, that this act, nor any matter, clause, or thing therein contained, shall not extend, or be deemed to extend to such old maids, as never had a true, genuine, or serious proposal of marriage made to them, nor to any person on their account, for ten years preceding their old maidship, any clause, matter, or thing contained to the contrary notwithstanding.’

According to a further provision, those ladies of 27 years of age or older who wished to avoid the onerous spinster tax by getting married had only a limited number of years in which to do so. The author of the bill gives women what amounts to an expiration date—an age after which they are prohibited from entering into marriage. He writes:

‘And be it further enacted, that after the age of 35 years, no old maid shall be allowed, or permitted to enter into the holy state of matrimony; as at that period they shall be deemed incapable of performing any of the necessary functions incident to such happy state.’

An Old Maid Treating a Favorite Cat to a Duck and Green Peas by Richard Newton, 1777–1798.
(Yale Center for British Art)

Adding insult to injury, the bill concludes by stating that ‘all legacies, given by old maids to favourite cats, lap-dogs, or to other animals, shall be void.’ Money that would have otherwise gone toward the care and support of an old maid’s pets after her death, would instead be appropriated by the government and used to defray the cost of the ‘present American war.’ As the final paragraph of the bill proclaims:

‘…and when and so soon as a peace shall be effected, or take place with the American colonies, that such sums be appropriated towards the support and maintenance of the Magdalene hospital.’

Magdalene hospitals, also known as Magdalene laundries, were 18^th and 19^th century institutions which housed unwed mothers and other ‘fallen’ women, often in conditions which were more brutal than a workhouse or a prison. The idea of taxing old maids to pay for the maintenance of such grim establishments seems a bit odd.  One would think it made more sense to tax the gentlemen responsible for the condition of the unwed mothers. Unfortunately, the author of the bill makes no mention of any taxes on men except for a lone postscript which states, quite clearly:

‘No old bachelor is to be concerned in raising this tax upon any pretence whatever.’

Cat Like Courtship by Thomas Rowlandson, undated.
(Yale Center for British Art)

I suspect that the proposed bill written by ‘A Friend to the Community’ was meant purely as masculine humor.  Stories about old maids and their pets were a source of great amusement in both the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Nevertheless, there is something vaguely unsettling about the tone of this proposed bill.  It makes one wonder, just what type of man was this ‘Friend to the Community’?  And what in the world did an old maid ever do to him?

Sources

The London Magazine or Gentleman’s Monthly Intelligencer, Vol. XLVI. London: R. Baldwin, 1777.

© 2015-2017 Mimi Matthews

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Stroll in the Park by Aleksander Gierymski, 1891-1893.

Just before midnight on June 25, 1891, a police detective encountered two women strolling arm-in-arm down Regent Street.  One of the women struck him as being rather odd in appearance.  He approached to investigate, but when he attempted to raise the heavy black veil on the lady’s hat, she firmly knocked his hand away.  It was then that the detective realized that the lady was, in fact, a very elderly gentleman in women’s clothes.  He promptly arrested him.

The elderly gentleman—who stated that his “nom de guerre” was Luke Limner—was taken to Marlborough Street Police Court where he was charged with “being in a public thoroughfare dressed as a woman.”  Initial newspaper reports addressed his behavior with equal parts humor and scorn.  For example, the 27 June 1891 edition of the Aberdeen Evening Express describes him as being “grotesque in appearance.”  While the 29 June 1891 edition of the York Herald labels him “an extraordinary freak of an old gentleman.”

Aged anywhere from 64 to 75 (depending on the report), Mr. Limner presented what many found to be a comical appearance.  He was bald with a bristly, grey moustache and wore a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles perched on his nose.  In every other respect, however, he was dressed as a woman.  As the Aberdeen Evening Express reports:

“He wore a blue serge skirt fringed with red, a black bodice, which by its appearance suggested the presence of a corset and padding beneath, a fashionable light-coloured cape with Medici collar, a matador hat, and a pair of large high-heeled shoes.”

In addition to this somewhat eccentric ensemble, the York Herald reports that Mr. Limner was also wearing a “mass of artificial fringe” attached to his forehead.”  False hair was quite popular during the late nineteenth century and could be bought in large or small pieces and pinned into one’s existing hair.  Given that he was bald, it is not entirely clear how Mr. Limner adhered his false fringe to his forehead.

Advertisement for False Hair, 1898.

When asked to account for his behavior, Mr. Limner told the court that he was an artist and a writer of “one of the most popular works extant.”  He stated that he had “conceived the idea” of writing a book on women’s fashion.  However, he did not feel that he could accurately write about such things without experiencing them himself.  As he enquired of the court:

“How could I tell whether corsets and high heels really hurt if I did not walk about in them?”

Mr. Limner went on to describe the history and functionality of each of the items he was wearing.  He stated that the hat he wore was “originally worn by men” and that the cape with Medici collar had been “fashionable in the reign of Henry VIII.”  The Aberdeen Evening Express reports that he then lifted up his skirts to reveal “a pair of slim calves covered with dark blue stockings,” and declared to the court that:

“After all, [a skirt] is but a pair of trousers with one leg, and I can assure you, sir, is remarkably airy and nice in this sultry weather.”

At the conclusion of Mr. Limner’s statement, the presiding judge, Mr. Newton, asked the jailor whether or not it was true that Mr. Limner was a known author.  Mr. Limner replied, “Oh, everybody knows me.  I have written for the ‘Graphic.’”  His claim carried little weight with the court.  As the Aberdeen Evening Express reports:

“Mr. Newton remanded the prisoner for a week for inquiries to be made respecting his antecedents, a decision which seemed to astonish the old gentleman, who was led out of the Court apparently very much crestfallen.”

Madre Natura, 1874.

Was the elderly gentleman in women’s clothing really an author doing research?  It appears that he may have been.  Luke Limner was, in fact, the pen name of John Leighton, a Victorian artist and book cover designer who, in 1891, would have been 69-years-old.  In 1847, he wrote a book on women’s fashion titled Madre Natura or the Moloch of Fashion.  In it, he railed against the excesses of women’s fashions and accused the female sex of stuffing their heads with “flounces and furbelows, ribbons and gauze, exhausting their fine imaginations, instead of diverting them into worthy channels.”

In 1874, the fourth edition of Madre Natura was published.  When arrested, the cross-dressing gentleman purporting to be Limner stated that a fifth edition of his most popular book would soon be released.  Was this a fifth edition of Madre Natura?  And, if so, did Leighton/Limner decide that it was about time he dressed up in women’s clothing and discovered for himself whether or not (as he states in his book) high heels really caused “injury to the Achilles tendon” or corsets really did displace the abdominal organs?  This certainly seems possible.  However, as the 27 June 1891 edition of the Globe so reasonably points out:

“It is…not quite clear whether it is absolutely necessary to wear corsets and high heels in Regent-street about midnight in order to be able to pronounce upon their hurtfulness or the reverse.  A less public practising-ground could surely have been chosen.” 

**If you would like to learn more about John Leighton and Madre Natura, the following links may be useful:

The Book Cover Designs of John Leighton (The Victorian Web)

Luke Limner, Madre Natura Versus The Moloch Of Fashion (Courtland Institute of Art)

Sources

Aberdeen Evening Express (Aberdeenshire, Scotland), 27 June 1891.

Daily Gazette for Middlesbrough (North Yorkshire, England), 27 June 1891.

Globe (London, England), 27 June 1891.

Hartlepool Northern Daily Mail (Durham, England), 26 June 1891.

Leighton, John.  Madre Natura versus the Moloch of Fashion, a social essay by Luke Limner. 4^th Edition. London: Chatto & Windus, 1874.

Lloyd’s Weekly Newspaper (London, England), 28 June 1891.

Shields Daily News (Tyne and Wear, England), 26 June 1891.

© 2015-2017 Mimi Matthews

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Individual Collage Images via Met Museum.

During the nineteenth century, blue was considered a versatile color, as suitable for elegant evening gowns and demure day dresses as it was for fashionable bonnets, slippers, and parasols. In shades ranging from the palest cerulean blue to the deepest navy, it adorned women of every age and every station, harmonizing with a wide range of hair colors and complexions. In today’s article, we look at some of the loveliest examples of the color blue in Victorian fashion.

*Please note: Deep blues were generally achieved with aniline dye.  Invented in 1856, aniline dye produced a wider range of color than natural blue dyes like indigo. 

GOWNS

In his 1870 book Color in Dress, author George Audsley describes blue as “a cold and retiring color…symbolical of divinity, intelligence, sincerity, and tenderness.” It could be worn in any season and, in its deepest and richest shades, was thought to be particularly flattering to ruddy blondes (i.e. those which Audsley describes as having “dark blue or brown eyes and brown hair”).

1865 French Evening Ensemble.
(Cincinnati Art Museum)

For fair blondes, Audsley advises using lighter shades of blue such as sky blue or turquoise. The reasoning behind this was that light and medium blue were “the perfect contrast of orange,” thus helping to emphasize the “very pleasing” hints of gold and orange in a fair blonde’s hair and complexion. In fact, in her 1872 book Hints on Dress, author Ethel Gale claims that, “of the primitive colors,” these lighter shades of blue were the only ones that a fair blonde could wear—at least, up until the age of fifty, at which point Gale directs the fair blonde to stick to blacks and whites.

1867 Depret Silk Dress.
(Met Museum)

Victorian era opinions differed on whether blue was a flattering color for those with dark brown or black hair. An 1855 edition of Peterson’s Magazine declares that the color blue was completely unsuitable for brunettes. While Gale states that, for vivid brunettes (i.e. those with warm complexions and dark brown or black hair), a “bright and decided” shade of blue was always flattering.

1870 Silk Dress.
(Met Museum)

Audsley appears to concur with Gale’s opinion. He directs pale brunettes (i.e. those with fair complexions and dark brown hair) toward the deepest, darkest shades of blue, advising that the nearer the shade was to black, the more suitable it became to a pale brunette’s complexion.

1881 Dress.
(Met Museum)

For ladies with red hair, an 1858 edition of Godey’s Lady’s Book reports that “almost all shades of blue are becoming, especially ‘mazarine blue,’ for morning, and a somewhat lighter shade for evening dress.” Mazarine blue is a very deep, rich blue, almost purple in appearance.

1876 Silk Dinner Dress.
(Met Museum)

Shades of blue could be worn at any time of day. However, for evening wear, both light and dark blues tended to lose their brilliancy by gaslight. For this reason, Audsley recommends that light blue be combined with white for evening dresses in order to preserve its “proper value” and hue.

1860 Blue Silk Ball Gown.
(Met Museum)

To combat the negative effects of gaslight, evening dresses of darker blue could also be combined with white or another light shade, such as ivory or cream.

1850-1855 Silk Evening Dress.
(Philadelphia Museum of Art)

Certain shades were believed to harmonize well with blue. These shades included white, gray, orange, gold, and chocolate. According to Audsley, orange and blue were in “perfect harmony” and blue and gold were in “rich harmony.”

1880 Silk Dress.
(Met Museum)

Blue dresses were sometimes accented with a contrasting color. When that contrast color was of a “similar power,” Audsley states that the two would “mutually intensify each other’s brilliancy.”

1895 House of Worth Day Dress.
(National Gallery of Victoria)

Some Victorian dresses were made of two or three different shades of blue. This could be quite striking and was a very popular combination throughout the Victorian era, both in day and evening dresses.

Early 1880s Silk Dress.
(Met Museum)

Shades of blue can also be seen in Victorian dresses made of patterned fabric such as plaids or floral prints. In these cases, blue often acts as the base color.

1850 Blue Silk Brocade Evening Dress.
(Philadelphia Museum of Art)

Blue plaid dresses were especially fashionable in the 1850s. Generally more subdued than red or purple plaids, they could be accessorized with blue parasols, bonnets, or gloves.

1857 Silk Dress.
(Met Museum)

Shoes

By the late nineteenth century, colorful boots and slippers were all the rage. They could be found in all shades of blue, from the palest to the darkest. For day wear, light blue was well represented, as illustrated by the silk shoes below.

1870s Silk Shoes.
(Met Museum)

For evening wear, Victorian ladies frequently donned brightly colored slippers or pumps with their gowns. These often featured decorative ribbon, glass beadwork, or embroidery. However, when the color was as vivid as that of the 1885 evening slippers below, no additional embellishment was necessary.

1885 Blue Silk Evening Slippers.
(Met Museum)

Bonnets

Blue ribbons and flowers were popular trimmings for ladies’ hats and bonnets. Depending on the shade, these bonnets could look quite elegant and sophisticated, even when they were made of straw.

1886 Aitken Son & Company Straw and Silk Bonnet.
(Met Museum)

Bonnets of blue silk and velvet were also very fashionable. These were often combined with blue ribbons or dyed blue ostrich feathers.

1880 Silk and Feather Evening Bonnet.
(Met Museum)

Parasols

Blue parasols were another fashionable Victorian accessory. They were generally made of silk and came in a range of shades, including pale blue, dark blue, and delicate blue and white prints.

1850-1859 Blue Silk Parasol.
(Met Museum)

Fans

For evening, a blue fan could be a beautiful accessory. Victorian fans came in a variety of sizes and styles. There were painted paper fans, feather fans, and fabric fans spangled with gold and sequins. The below fan from the mid-nineteenth century is made of metallic paper with mother-of-pearl and ivory.

1840-1859 Eugene André Fan.
(Met Museum)

Victorian fans came in all shades of blue. The shade that a lady chose was dependent on the color of her evening dress. Fans could either harmonize with an evening dress or provide a pop of contrasting color. The below fan from the mid-nineteenth century has leaves of light blue satin embellished with steel sequins.

Mid-19th Century Blue Satin Fan.
(MFA Boston)

Jewelry

The fashionable Victorian lady had several options when it came to blue jewelry. Of these, the sapphire was, by far, the most popular. Victorian era sapphires came in shades from deep blue to pale blue and could be found set in necklaces, earrings, bracelets, brooches, and rings.

1850 Sapphire and Gold Ring.
(Victoria and Albert Museum)

In his 1856 book Jewelry and the Precious Stones, author Joseph Rupert Paxton states that the sapphire was “the emblem of heaven, the firmament, truth, constancy, and fidelity.” In Victorian jewelry, it was often set in gold with other precious or semi-precious stones. Sapphires and diamonds were one of the most striking—and expensive—combinations.

1850 Sapphire and Diamond Necklace and Earrings.
(Victoria and Albert Museum)

A FEW FINAL WORDS…

There is no one color that fully represents the Victorian era.  However, I hope the above has given you some idea of how blue was used in Victorian women’s fashion.  For a refresher on the shades of Victorian fashion that we have already covered, the previous articles in my series are available here:

Shades of Victorian Fashion: Pretty in 19th Century Pink

Shades of Victorian Fashion: Orange, Pumpkin, and Peach

Shades of Victorian Fashion: Butter, Lemon, Gold, and Yellow

Shades of Victorian Fashion: Crimson, Claret, Scarlet, and Red

Shades of Victorian Fashion: Lilacs, Lavenders, Plums, and Purples

In future, I’ll be profiling other popular shades of the era.  Until then, I leave you with the following wise words on color from an 1850 edition of Peterson’s Magazine:

“Want of taste is more frequently exhibited, perhaps, in the selection of colors inappropriate for the complexion, than in any other thing in female dress.”

La Parisienne (The Blue Lady) by Pierre-Auguste Renoir, 1874.
(National Museum of Wales)

Sources

Audsley, George Ashdown.  Color in Dress: A Manual for Ladies.  Philadelphia: George Maclean, 1870.

Gale, Ethel.  Hints on Dress: Or, What to Wear, when to Wear It, and how to Buy it.  New York: J. P. Putnam & Sons, 1872.

Godey’s Lady’s Book, Vol. 56. Philadelphia: Louis A. Godey, 1858.

Hill’s Manual of Social and Business Forms.  Chicago: Quadrangle Books, 1885.

“How to Choose Colors in Dress.”  Peterson’s Magazine, Volumes 27-28.  Philadelphia: C. J. Peterson, 1855.

“A Lady’s Dress.”  Littell’s Living Age.  Vol. 75.  Boston: Littell, Son, and Company, 1862.

Paxton, Joseph Rupert.  Jewelry and the Precious Stones.  Philadelphia: John Penington & Son, 1856.

Peterson’s Magazine, of Art, Literature, and Fashion,  Vol. XVII. Philadelphia: Charles J. Peterson, 1850. 

© 2015-2017 Mimi Matthews

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The Two Central Figures in “Derby Day” by William Powell Frith, 1860.
(Met Museum)

Published in 1875, The Lover’s Poetic Companion and Valentine Writer is a book intended for Victorian ladies and gentlemen “who wish to address those they love in suitable terms.”  It contains a variety of Valentine verses, ranging from the sweet to the satirical.  The book promises that these “Love Lyrics” are harmless and that even the more comical lines do not descend into vulgarity.  But what these verses lack in vulgarity, they more than make up for in unkindness and—in some instances—outright cruelty.

Much of this unkindness is directed at those unfortunate would-be Valentines whom the Victorian lady or gentlemen must reject for some reason or another.  For example, in the below Valentine, titled A Tinted Venus, a gentleman rejects a woman because of her penchant for wearing too much make-up.

A Tinted Venus

I’m fond of paintings, and admire
A form divine and human,
But one thing I abominate,
And that’s a painted woman.

When gazing on your tinted cheeks
I feel inclined to scoff,
If I should kiss them, or your lips,
I know they’d all come off.

From Madame Rachel do attempt
Your notions to dissever,
That’s not the way, believe me, to
Be beautiful for ever.

Don’t credit the advertisements
In paper or in serial,
You cannot manufacture charms
With ugly raw material.

A Tinted Venus, The Lover’s Poetic Companion and Valentine Writer, 1875.

The next Valentine is a touch harsher—and even more personal.  In it, a woman rejects a potential suitor for being too tall and thin.

To a Tall Thin Person

I’m fond of light in any shape,
But can’t perceive a cause
Why I should wed a lamp-post,
Or a pair of lantern jaws.

When first your tall gaunt form I saw,
With face like any mourner,
I thought you were the shadow
Of some person round the corner.

I don’t know that I like a mate
Particularly lumpy,
But then, you know, you scraggy ones
Are always cross and grumpy.

If I am preying on your mind,
Dismiss, I pray, that matter;
The one I choose for life will be
At least a trifle fatter.

To a Tall Thin Person, The Lover’s Poetic Companion and Valentine Writer, 1875.

Unfortunately, an overweight Valentine was, in many cases, no more acceptable than a tall, thin one.  In the below Valentine, titled To A Fat Person, a lady not only rejects her plump suitor, but also offers him some advice on shedding a few pounds.

To a Fat Person

Whenever thy form I look upon,
My friend so stout and flabby,
I thank my stars I was not born
A ‘bus-man or a cabby.

Since sure I am, were such my lot,
I should feel most unwilling
To take a pair of folks like you
For sixpence or a shilling.

Do be persuaded, unctuous one—
Take something to get thinner;
Or, better still, don’t take so much
When you sit down to dinner.

Your friends may term you “embonpoint,”
Or “stout”—that’s very fine:
You’re fat—uncommon—much too fat
To be my Valentine.

Fatty, The Lover’s Poetic Companion and Valentine Writer, 1875.

Spinsters were not exempt from Valentine’s Day rejection—at least, not insofar as The Lover’s Poetic Companion was concerned.  In the following Valentine verses, addressed To a Cod-Eyed Spinster, a rather ungentlemanly gentleman issues a resounding rejection to a lovelorn old-maid.

To a Cod-Eyed Spinster

The very last that I should take
To village church or minster,
For purposes connubial,
Would be a cod-eyed spinster.

I’m fond of cod for dinner, ’tis
With me a favourite dish,
But shouldn’t like to own a wife
With eyes just like a fish.

Time’s hourglass now is running low,
So be no longer jealous,
Make way for younger girls and cease
To hunt up us smart fellows.

I’d sooner marry a giraffe,
Hedgehog or porcupine,
Than from the female sex select
A cod-eyed Valentine.

A Poetical Ruin, The Lover’s Poetic Companion and Valentine Writer, 1875.

Some of the Valentine verses offered seem justifiably cutting.  There are those directed at braggarts, drunkards, and hardened flirts.  One of my own favorites is the one below, addressed To A Vain Individual.

To A Vain Individual

Do give it up, ‘tis quite in vain
Each air and grace you try on;
Don’t lay this unction to your soul,
That you’re the British Lion.

The lions of a breed like yours
Eat thistles, hay, and grass,
And for a roar they give a bray,
And that is all — al-as!

I never like in my remarks
To venture on a strong key,
But you provoke me, lions’ skins
Do misbecome a donkey.

So give up lionizing, and
Be simply asinine,
And then perhaps some female (l)ass
Will be your Valentine.

To One with Whom You Have Danced, The Lover’s Poetic Companion and Valentine Writer, 1875.

 The above Valentine verses are only a few of the many contained within the pages of The Lover’s Poetic Companion.  Though they’re mean-spirited, I can’t help but find them rather humorous.  To the Victorian era person being rejected, however, these “Love Lyrics” would have been crushing indeed.  If you have to reject the advances of a would-be Valentine this coming February 14th, I strongly encourage you to find a kinder method of doing so.

Sources

The Lover’s Poetic Companion and Valentine Writer. London: Ward, Lock, & Tyler, 1875.

© 2015-2017 Mimi Matthews

For exclusive information on upcoming book releases, giveaways, and other special treats, subscribe to Mimi’s Quarterly Newsletter by clicking the link below.

You can also connect with Mimi on Facebook and Twitter.

Bicycle Detail, Poster of the Société Parisienne, 1895.

In September of 1896, British newspapers reported the remarkable use of a bicycle in a New Jersey murder case.  The case involved two men who had both emigrated to America from London in the early 1890s.  One of these men was a farmer named Mr. Haggett who settled down with his family on a farm near Somerville.  The other man was a fellow named Mr. Clossen who Haggett employed as a farm laborer.  Sometime in 1896, Haggett caught Clossen stealing.  In consequence, he not only fired him from his job, but also refused to pay him the thirty dollars in wages that Clossen believed he was owed.

Angered over the loss of his job and the withholding of his wages, Clossen mounted his bicycle and pedaled out to Haggett’s farm. He knocked on the front door and asked to see Haggett. When Haggett came to the door, Clossen pulled out a revolver and fired three shots, killing Haggett instantly. According to the 5 September 1896 edition of the Blackburn Standard:

“The murderer then jumped on his bicycle and fled.”

Advertisement for Humber & Baxter’s Bicycles, 1892.

Haggett’s wife was at home and, when she saw what Clossen had done to her husband, she screamed out to some carpenters who were building a house nearby.  The carpenters had pedaled to work on their bicycles and, at Mrs. Haggett’s urging, they hopped back on their bikes and sped off in pursuit of Clossen.  Some men on horseback also joined in the chase, but the bicycles quickly outdistanced them.

Once apprised of the crime, the local Sheriff made straight for his own bicycle.  He is reported to have “mounted his machine, and tore after the murderer.”  By this time, Clossen had over a mile head start on his pursuers.  He pedaled like mad and, as the Blackburn Standard reports:

“The chase lasted for ten miles, and took the party over two high hills before [Sheriff] Moore and the carpenters overtook the fugitive.”

Clossen was arrested and returned to Somerville in the back of a wagon.  There, he was met by a veritable mob of angry farmers who were ready to lynch him for the murder of Haggett.  According to newspaper reports, the sheriff had to “threaten to shoot in order to save the prisoner from them.”

Advertisement for Gormully & Jeffery Rambler Bicycles, 1891.

Clossen was not the only Victorian era criminal to have attempted an escape by bicycle.  Bicycles were employed by all sorts of late nineteenth century fugitives—from mischief-makers to murderers—who wished to make a speedy getaway.  In 1896, for example, a warrant was issued for a cashier from the East and West Railway Company who had been embezzling funds from his employers. When the police arrived to arrest him, the cashier fled on his bicycle. The police followed in hot pursuit. When they at last overtook him, the Worcestershire Chronicle reports that the cashier “blew out his brains with a revolver.”

A woman who used a bicycle to escape from the Bethel Lunatic Asylum in 1899 enjoyed greater success than the doomed railway cashier.  The Nottinghamshire Guardian reports that the woman, named Mrs. Attree, had been declared insane after “attempting to kill her infant child by throwing it out of the window of a railway carriage.”  Since that time, she had been detained in the asylum. In September of 1899, she somehow escaped from the premises and, after obtaining a bicycle in a nearby village, she pedaled away and was seen no more.

Illustration of a Rear-Driver Bicycle.
The Modern Bicycle, 1896.

Police did not regularly use bicycles themselves until the late nineteenth century.  Before then, bicycles were too heavy and unwieldy to be practical. However, by the 1880s, the safety bicycle had been invented.  Made with two wheels of identical size, the safety bicycle had pneumatic tires, a chain-driven rear wheel, and what is known as a “diamond frame.”  Safety bicycles were much easier for policeman to manage and, as the century came to a close, more and more cities throughout the United States and England were assigning bicycles to their police officers.

This did not mean that criminals and policemen were now evenly matched in a high speed bicycle chase.  Some Victorians went extraordinarily fast on their bicycles, often to the point of danger for all those around them.  These daring folks were popularly known as “scorchers.” I close this article with an 1897 poem from Lyra Cyclus; Or, The Bards and the Bicycle about a bicycle policemen’s hapless pursuit of a scorcher.

THE COPPER AND THE SCORCHER

He was a mounted copper,
Upon an iron steed,
And was laying for the scorcher,
Who rode at lawless speed;
When whizzing ’round the corner,
At a breakneck, lightning pace,
Appeared a reckless rider,
Whereupon the cop gave chase.

“I say there!” cried the bluecoat,
As he humped himself about,
“You’re arrested for fast riding.”
When the scorcher heard the shout
He looked o’er his shoulder,
And he didn’t do a thing
But pedal all the harder
And make the welkin ring.

“I like that,” said the “finest,”
As through the thoroughfare
He started for his victim;
And the crowd that gathered there
Cheered the racer, jeered the copper
And wagered ten to one
On the scorcher as he sped along
On that exciting run.

In and out among the horses
And wagons on the street
They dodged about most artfully,
Doing many a dangerous feat;
But the bluecoat was outdistanced,
He set too slow a pace,
And his anger gave expression
In the wrath upon his face.

At last grown weak and weary,
The copper swore he’d shoot.
And reached back for his pistol,
But the crowd cried, “Don’t, you brute!”
But he aimed it at the scorcher,
If he didn’t, I’m a liar;
“Bang!” and the scorcher tumbled,
For the cop had pierced his tire.
~

Advertisement for the Victor Bicycle, 1894.

Sources

Blackburn Standard (Lancashire, England), 05 September 1896.

Herligy, David. Bicycle: The History. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2006.

The Modern Bicycle and its Accessories. New York: Commercial Advertiser Association, 1896.

Steedman, Carolyn. Policing the Victorian Community: The Formation of English Provincial Police Forces, 1856-1880. Cambridge: Routledge, 2015.

Redmond, Edmond. Lyra Cyclus; Or, The Bards and the Bicycle. Rochester, 1897.

Nottinghamshire Guardian (Nottinghamshire, England), 23 September 1899,

Worcestershire Chronicle (Worcestershire, England), 02 May 1896.

© 2015-2017 Mimi Matthews

For exclusive information on upcoming book releases, giveaways, and other special treats, subscribe to Mimi’s Quarterly Newsletter by clicking the link below.

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Katti Lanner, lithograph by Adolf Dauthage, 1861.

Andrew Lloyd Webber’s 1981 musical Cats was not the first production to feature a cast of dancers dressed in cat costumes.  Nearly one hundred years earlier, a ballet called Katrina made its debut at the Empire Theatre in London.  Arranged by choreographer Kattie Lanner and set to music by composer Leopold Wenzel, it featured two intertwined stories.  The first concerned the love affairs of a young student. The second—and far more interesting—took place in the Kingdom of Cats. 

Katrina starred Miss Ada Vincent as Princess Frou-Frou, a fairy cat, and Miss Lizzie Vincent as Tom Grey, a cat bridegroom.  They were accompanied by their cat attendants, portrayed by a troupe of young ballerinas dressed in cat costumes.  Together, they performed lively dances meant to represent cats engaged in their evening revels.  As an 1894 edition of the magazine Pick-Me-Up explains:

“[Katrina] is a novelty presenting two or three hundred young more-or-less ladies dressed up to represent cats in their nightly fling on the tiles.”

London, Empire Theatre (Leicester Square), postcard, 1905.

An 1893 edition of the St. James’s Gazette declares that Katrina was, it was, in the main, “a ballet of cats.”  The reviewer in Pick-Me-Up seems to have agreed with this assertion, even going so far as to state:

“I’m still wondering why they didn’t call it ‘Pussy-Katrina.’”

Unlike Cats (which was based on Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats by T. S. Eliot), Katrina does not appear to have been based on any particular piece of poetry or prose.  It was nevertheless entertaining, receiving fairly decent reviews.  A reviewer in an 1893 edition of Fun called it “a very brilliant affair,” writing:

“It is very gorgeous, splendid, clever and effective—the cat dresses are particularly striking and interesting.”

Katrina, Illustration from Fun, Vol. LVII, No. 1443. 1893.

The St. James Gazette was equally complimentary to the costumes, calling Katrina “another triumph for the Empire.”  He writes:

“‘Katrina’ is not a grand ballet; but as a divertissement it is of quite the right kind, and is a beautiful and varied masque of dancing.”

Katrina, Illustration from Fun, Vol. LVII, No. 1443. 1893.

Katrina was not the only Victorian production to include cats.  In 1871, for example, the Globe Theatre produced The White Cat: Or, Prince Lardi-Dardi & the Radiant Rosetta. Advertised as “A Grand New Fairy Burlesque Extravaganza,” its second scene takes place in “The Forest of Katz Kradle Kastle” wherein a group of actors dressed as cats hunted for birds and mice.

Today, when one thinks of cats in the theatre, Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Cats is still the first thing that usually comes to mind.  Nevertheless, I hope this brief look at cat-themed theatricals gives you some insight into the long history—and perennial popularity—of dancing cats on the stage.

The White Cat by F. C. Burnand, 1871.

Thus concludes another of my Friday features on Animals in Literature and History. If you are interested in adopting a cat or if you would like to donate your time or money to a rescue organization, I urge you to contact your local animal rescue foundation or city animal shelter.  The below links may also be useful as resources:

The Humane Society of the United States (USA)

Battersea Dogs & Cats Home (UK)

Sources

Burnand, F. C. The White Cat: Or, Prince Lardi-Dardi & the Radiant Rosetta. A Fairy Burlesque Extravaganza. London : Thomas Hailes Lacy, 1871.

Fun, Vol. LVII, No. 1443. 1893.

Pick-Me-Up, Volume 11, Issue 261.  London: 1894

St. James’s Gazette (London, England), 21 February 1893.

© 2015-2017 Mimi Matthews

For exclusive information on upcoming book releases, giveaways, and other special treats, subscribe to Mimi’s Quarterly Newsletter by clicking the link below.

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Euphemia White Van Rensselear by George Peter Alexander Healy, 1842.

It’s my blogiversary!  Today, MimiMatthews.com is two years old.  I have no idea what the two year mark of a successful blog looks like, but I feel incredibly fortunate that my site continues to receive such a positive response.  I am especially grateful to all of my wonderful subscribers and to everyone who takes the time to comment on my articles.  Your readership means the world!

You may have noticed that I’m not updating as often lately.  I am currently working toward two separate book deadlines, something which has been rather time consuming and a bit stressful, I must admit.  The good news is that my first non-fiction book, The Pug Who Bit Napoleon: Animal Tales of the 18th & 19th Centuries (to be released by Pen and Sword Books in November 2017), will be available for pre-order this May.  My next non-fiction book, A Victorian Lady’s Guide to Fashion and Beauty, will be released next summer.

I hope to have some new nineteenth century history articles for you soon.  In the meanwhile, here are five of my favorites from this last year.

• Victorian Fat Shaming: Harsh Words on Weight from the 19th Century.  Published on April 25, 2016, this article addresses Victorian era conceptions of obesity, including supposed links to promiscuity and prostitution.  This was fascinating to research and quite sad, too.  Discrimination of any kind casts a very long shadow.    

• Canines And Crinolines: Victorian Dogs Captured By Fashion.  Published on July 15, 2016, this article looks at one of the lesser known perils of  the controversial wire cage crinoline.  Find out how Victorian era ladies coped with (sometimes vicious) dogs getting tangled up under their skirts!

• The Notorious 1880 Police Raid Of The Cross-Dressing Ball At Temperance Hall.  Published on July 26, 2016, this article is about an 1880 drag ball in Manchester which one newspaper declared was “…one of the foulest and most disgraceful orgies that ever disgraced any town.”

• Shades Of Victorian Fashion: Lilacs, Lavenders, Plums, And Purples.  Published on August 22, 2016, this article looks at the use of purple in Victorian women’s gowns and accessories.  This was the first in my Shades of Victorian Fashion series.

• Death At The Needle: The Tragedy Of Victorian Seamstress Mary Walkley.  Published on September 20, 2016, this article is about the 1863 death of Mary Walkley, a seamstress in a fashionable dressmaker’s shop who perished from overwork and lack of air.

Well, that about wraps it up for this anniversary post.  Thank you all again for reading, sharing, and commenting on my articles.  Here’s to the next year researching and writing on nineteenth century romance, literature, and history!

© 2015-2017 Mimi Matthews

For exclusive information on upcoming book releases, giveaways, and other special treats, subscribe to Mimi’s Quarterly Newsletter by clicking the link below.

You can also connect with Mimi on Facebook and Twitter.

“Melancholy is a low kind of delirium, with a fever; usually attended with fear, heaviness, and sorrow, without any apparent occasion.”
Beach’s Family Physician, 1861.

Melancholy by Alfred Émile Léopold Stevens, 1876.

What we recognize today as depression was, in the Victorian era, popularly known as melancholia or melancholy.  Like depression, melancholy ranged in seriousness from mild, temporary bouts of sadness or “low spirits” to longer, more extreme episodes, characterized by insomnia, lack of appetite, and suicidal thoughts.  While symptoms of melancholy were usually easy to recognize, medical opinions often differed on what it was that caused the condition.  As a result, treatment plans for the melancholic patient varied widely.  Below, we look at a few Victorian era medical opinions on the symptoms, causes, and treatments of melancholy.

SYMPTOMS

In the 1861 book Beach’s Family Physician, Dr. Wooster Beach describes melancholy as:

“A low kind of delirium, with a fever; usually attended with fear, heaviness, and sorrow, without any apparent occasion.”

According to Beach, the patient afflicted with melancholy shunned society and courted solitude, was fearful and low spirited, and indulged in “a certain train of thoughts upon one subject.”  This subject was generally “that which was the cause of his misfortune.”  In an article in the 1850 edition of the People’s Medical Journal, Dr. Thomas Harrison Yeoman seems to agree with this catalogue of symptoms, writing that “the leading characteristics of melancholy are—a love of solitude, gloom, fear, suspicion, and taciturnity.”

Many medical practitioners found it useful to divide melancholy into categories by symptom.  This served to separate the more severe forms of melancholy, such as those accompanied by violent outbursts, mania, or delusions, from the more ordinary forms of melancholy in which the patient was merely reclusive and sad.  In his 1871 book Insanity and its Treatment, Dr. G. Fielding Blandford classifies melancholy as being either acute or subacute.  While Yeoman goes a step further, dividing melancholy into four separate types: 1) Gloomy Melancholy; 2) Restless Melancholy; 3) Mischievous Melancholy; and 4) Self-Complacent Melancholy.  He describes them as follows:

“1st. Gloomy melancholy; in which the patient is silent, sad, and constantly endeavouring to seclude himself from observation.  2nd. Restless melancholy; in which the patient is roving, restless, and evinces a constant desire to change his abode. 3rd. Mischievous melancholy; marked by sullenness, moroseness, spite, and occasionally terminating in suicide or the injury of others. 4th. Self-complacent melancholy; wherein the patient is self-satisfied and affable; occasionally rejoicing in a visionary superiority of rank, station, or wealth.”

Hope Deferred, and Hope and Fears that Kindle Hope by Charles West Cope, n.d.
(Touchstones Rochdale Arts & Heritage Centre, UK)

Melancholy was often accompanied by physical symptoms.  Much of these were a direct result of poor diet, lack of activity, and too much time spent closed up indoors.  As Beach explains:

“The face is generally pale; the urine small in quantity, and water; the patient is commonly costive, and the stomach affected with wind; and in some cases so miserable are the feelings, that the unfortunate wretch seeks every opportunity of putting an end to them, by terminating his existence.”

CAUSES

Not all patients were melancholy for the same reasons.  Much like depression today, melancholy could result from a particular situation, such as a death in the family or a professional, financial, or romantic disappointment.  Melancholy could also result from physical illness.  According to Beach, it could be brought on by “dyspepsia, suppressed evacuations, intemperance, and injuries of the cranium.”  In addition, as Beach explains:

“Sometimes it is occasioned by a sedentary life and solitude, and by acute fevers or other diseases.  It is sometimes the effect of excessive venery; and is frequently produced by gloomy and fanatical notions of religion.

Consolation by Auguste Toulmouche, 1867.

Melancholy could also set in for what appeared to be no reason at all.  Beach states that this sort of melancholy was often the result of “an hereditary disposition” or a “melancholic temperament.”  While in the 1879 book Clinical Medicine, Dr. Austin Flint declares that “when not attributable to an adequate cause, such as the death of relatives or friends, loss of property, position, or character” and when not a symptom of dyspepsia, alcoholism, or other recognizable illness, melancholy should be regarded as “a neuropathic affection” or, in short, a diseased mind.

TREATMENT

Unfortunately for Victorian doctors and their melancholy patients, there were no antidepressant drugs available in the nineteenth century.  Instead, doctors generally treated melancholy by recommending specialized diets and regimens of rest and relaxation.  Beach took a more modern approach, declaring that “in the treatment of melancholy, attention must be directed to the mind as well as the body.”  To this end, he advised that the patient should be

“…amused with a variety of scenery; and take freely of exercise in the open air, such as riding, walking, gardening, farming, &c.  He should peruse interesting books, and converse with cheerful friends; and above all, be located amid pleasant scenery, where he can enjoy a water prospect, a country air, and country diet.”

Beach also recommended the shower bath.  He advised his patients to shower often and, afterward, to “rub the whole body well with coarse flannel.”  This was a much less traumatic option than the water therapy offered at some asylums, wherein patients were plunged into cold baths or, as in one case related by Dr. John Bell in his 1859 book A Treatise on Baths, “bound in a cart, stripped, and blindfolded” and then subjected to “a great Fall of Water” from twenty feet above.

Illustration of a Shower Bath as Usually Sold by Ironmongers.
(Encyclopaedia of Domestic Economy, 1855.)

Some Victorian doctors went further with their treatments, advising their melancholy patients to drink alcohol, to take morphia, or even (if they were single) to get married and start a family.  For example, Blandford recommended a diet which featured alcohol at almost every meal, followed by a dose of chloral or morphia at night to help the melancholic patient sleep.  He writes:

“Before getting out of bed in the morning, rum and milk, or egg and sherry; breakfast of meat, eggs, and café au lait, or cocoa; beef-tea, with a glass of port, at eleven o’clock; and a good dinner or lunch at two, with a couple of glasses of sherry; at four, some more beef-tea, or equivalent; at seven, dinner or supper, with stout or port wine; and at bed-time, stout or ale, with the chloral or morphia.”

Blandford claims that this diet was so successful for the treatment of melancholy that, once the patient was well, if he ever deviated from the diet, he “felt at once a return of the depression and delusions, which vanished again after the reception of food.”

Unlike Blandford, Flint believed that alcohol and opiates should never be given as treatment for melancholy.  He claimed that the treatment of melancholy was “chiefly mental” and that only by engaging the “intellectual and moral faculties” could the patient begin to recover.  In addition to treating one’s mind, he also recommended “invigoration of the body,” stating:

“Hygienic measures are often of much benefit.  Abundant exercise in the open air, with agreeable mental occupations, as in hunting, fishing, boating, etc., and travelling, are not infrequently curative.”

Summer Reverie by Lucius Rossi, 1878.

In some cases, Victorian era doctors advised that patients suffering from melancholy be committed to an asylum.  This was mainly to prevent the patient from harming himself since, as Blandford states, “every patient of this kind is to be looked upon as suicidal.”  While wealthier patients could afford to hire attendants to watch over them at home, the poor patient in need of supervision had little choice but to turn to an asylum.  As Blandford advises:

“If a poor man, there is nothing for it but to send him to an asylum.  For he must not be left for a moment where he can do himself harm, or make his escape.”

Melancholia and Women

According to Flint, men were “more subject to melancholy than women.”  He gives little reason for this, only going so far as to concede that melancholy was “not uncommon” in women “at the time of the cessation of the menstrual function.”  Addressing menopause related melancholy, he writes:

“The author has been led to attribute the causation more to a moral than a physical influence.  This event in the life of women has a twofold significance.  It is evidence of advancing years, and it denotes incapacity for bearing children.  Both are often not without considerable moral influence.  Even if a woman be unmarried, and has no expectation of marriage, or, if married, there be no desire for children, the loss of the capability of impregnation in its effect upon the mind, is not unlike the idea of impotency in men who do not expect ever to exercise the sexual function.”

Fear by William Powell Frith, 1869.

A Few Final Words…

There is a great deal more than can be said about the Victorian era diagnosis and treatment of melancholia.  I could easily have gone on to discuss the doctors who specialized in mental diseases (called “alienists”) or the advent of psychiatry and psychoanalysis.  I could have mentioned the contributions of Henry Maudsley, Josef Breuer, and Sigmund Freud.  However, in an article of this size, I thought it better to focus on the basic knowledge and treatments available at the time.  I hope this has given you some insight into how Victorian doctors addressed this unfortunate—and all too common—condition.

Sources

Beach, Wooster.  Beach’s Family Physician and Home Guide for the Treatment of the Diseases of Men, Women and Children on Reform Principles.  Cincinnati: Moore, Wilstach, Keys & Co., 1861.

Bell, John. A Treatise on Baths: Including Cold, Sea, Warm, Hot, Vapour, Gas, and Mud Baths.  Philadelphia: Lindsay & Blakiston, 1859.

Blandford, G. Fielding. Insanity and its Treatment. Philadelphia: Henry C. Lea, 1871.

Flint, Austin. Clinical Medicine: A Systematic Treatise on the Diagnosis and Treatment of Diseases.  Philadelphia: Henry C. Lea, 1879.

Maudsley, Henry.  The Physiology and Pathology of the Mind.  New York: D. Appleton and Company, 1872.

Webster, Thomas. Encyclopaedia of Domestic Economy.  New York: Harper & Brothers, 1855.

Yeoman, Thomas Harrison.  The People’s Medical Journal, and Family Physician, Vol. L.  London: George Vickers, Strand, 1850.

© 2015-2017 Mimi Matthews

For exclusive information on upcoming book releases, giveaways, and other special treats, subscribe to Mimi’s Quarterly Newsletter by clicking the link below.

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“The Easter bonnet has long been recognized as woman’s particular weakness.”
The Illustrated American, 1886.

Spring Bonnets, Der Bazar, 1882.
(Met Museum)

In the nineteenth century, Easter Sunday was an occasion for ladies of all classes to don their most fashionable bonnets.  Some of these bonnets were specially bought for the holiday.  Others were old bonnets made up with new trimmings.  In either circumstance, Easter bonnets were as essential to celebrating Easter as were eggs and bunnies.  An 1889 edition of the Ladies Home Journal even went so far as to declare that it was “an accepted fact that every woman who can buy or make a dainty bonnet for Easter-day must wear it.”

**Author’s Note:  You can read more about the Victorian Easter Bunny HERE.

Though worn on a Christian holiday, Easter bonnets had no particular affiliation with religion.  As an 1886 edition of the Globe explains:

“An Easter bonnet, notwithstanding its religious savour, is merely an incident in fashion, and follows no ecclesiastical lines.  It is not shaped like a cowl, or pointed like a mitre.  In this year of grace it will literally be in the height of the present mode, and a very elevated height that is.”

Spring Bonnets, 1887.
(Met Museum)

Nevertheless, the Globe states that “this, the season of rejoicing through all Christendom, is emphasised by a woman in a bonnet” and that “on Easter Sunday a new bonnet is de reigueur.”  What were these Easter bonnets like?  Addressing the Easter bonnets of 1889, the Ladies Home Journal reports that:

“There are large hats and small ones, though the tendency, as is usual in summer time, is to large hats. There are tiny bonnets, and those a little larger. There are bonnets that affect an air of primness, and there are those that are really frivolous looking.”

Many Easter bonnets were made of straw—a particularly suitable material for the spring and summer months.  These bonnets could be simply trimmed with a plain silk ribbon and a bunch of wildflowers.  They could also be trimmed quite elaborately and expensively.  For 1889, the Ladies Home Journal states that popular Easter bonnet trimmings included:

“…flowers and feathers, gold and silver braid, gold, black and white laces, beautiful tips, stately aigrettes, and everything in the way of rippling ribbons that can possibly be imagined.”

1898 American Silk Hat.
(Met Museum)

Gold braid was one of the most fashionable Easter bonnet trimmings of 1889.  The Ladies Home Journal reports:

“On very simple bonnets of rough straw it is by no means uncommon to see a braid finish of gold, and no bonnet is counted too plain to have a glint of it, and none too elaborate to be able to go without it.”

The Ladies Home Journal goes on to list the popular “millinery colors” of 1889 which were “especially noted on Easter bonnets.”  These included white, yellow, black, gold, and “all the heliotrope shades.”  Gold was a particularly stylish Easter color and, according to the Ladies Home Journal, “wherever a thread of it can be run, a piping of it be put, or even a very broad gold ribbon arranged in knots, it is seen.”

One style of Easter bonnet for 1889 was called the “Lily Hat.”  The Ladies Home Journal describes it as a bonnet “suited to the woman who has ceased to call herself a girl, but who very properly does not intend to think of being old until she has seen more than fifty summers go by.”  The complete description reads as follows:

Lily Hat, Ladies Home Journal, 1889.

“The bonnet itself is of a coarse yellow straw, and is bent in front, as shown, allowing a little ruching of lace to show from under it, while its very edge is about all the outline. At the back is a monture of purple flowers, but instead of standing up, or turning forward, this comes down and rests on the hair, as did the fillets of last winter. Just in front of the mass of flowers are loops of wide lavender gros-grain ribbon, and lavender gros-grain ties are looped under the chin.”

By the end of the nineteenth century, some magazines were reporting that the popularity of the Easter bonnet had come to an end.  An article in the 1896 edition of the Illustrated American declared that “the passing of the Easter bonnet is inevitable.  It’s doom has been spoken, its fate sealed—in short, it no longer exists.”  The same article goes on to state that:

“Women of fashion have decreed that it is ‘bad form’ to wear new and gorgeous apparel on Easter Sunday in the bourgeois manner of past years, irrespective of the appropriateness of the season or the occasion…The day for women to appear in gaudy clothes, topped by summery hats, on a cold, blustering day of early spring ‘because it is Easter,’ and their toilets have been created for the dress parade that follows the Easter church service and must be worn, is emphatically a thing of the past and has been for several years now…”

American or European Straw Hat, c. 1910.
(Met Museum)

Was this actually the case?  Not entirely.  Though the popularity of the Easter bonnet certainly had its ups and downs, it never fell completely from favour.  By the early 20^th century, it was back again and—owing to the sheer size of Edwardian hats—bigger and more extravagant than ever.  People held Easter bonnet decorating contests and composed Easter bonnet poems and songs.  I close this article with one of the latter from a 1911 edition of the Young People’s Home Library.

An Easter Bonnet

Little Miss Violet, blooming and sweet
Has her new Easter bonnet all trimmed and complete;
The brim is rich purple with hair-lines of black
It flares at the front and fits close at the back,
There’s a bow-knot of yellow and strings of pea green—
A prettier bonnet has never been seen.

But Miss Violet’s careful, and keeps it well hid
In her underground bandbox, and holds fast the lid;
If Easter is early and March winds are cold,
You’ll not have a glimpse of the purple and gold,
But when Easter comes late, you will see the whole place
Grow bright with Miss Violet’s beauty and grace.

Journal des Demoiselles, 1886.
(Met Museum)

Sources

The Globe (London, England), 16 February 1886.

The Illustrated American, Vol. XIX, No. 2. New York: Illustrated American Publishing, 1896

The Ladies Home Journal, Vol. VII, No. 1. Philadelphia: LHJ Publishing, 1889.

Young People’s Home Library.  Edited by Logan Marshall. 1911.

© 2015-2017 Mimi Matthews

For exclusive information on upcoming book releases, giveaways, and other special treats, subscribe to Mimi’s Quarterly Newsletter by clicking the link below.

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“The palm of good letter-writing has been universally awarded to the fair sex.”
Etiquette of Good Society, 1893.

Yes or No? by Charles West Cope, 1872.
(Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool)

For Victorian ladies, there was much more to letter writing than simply dashing off a note. There were rules for proper correspondence, encompassing everything from acceptable shades of paper and ink to penmanship, wax seals, and conditions under which a woman must write in the third person. I can’t tackle all of these rules in a single article. Instead, I’ve gathered twelve quotes from various Victorian etiquette books addressing the basics of ladylike letter writing. I present them to you below.

1) Use Good Quality Writing Paper.

“There is a fashion in letter-paper and envelopes which is ever varying as to size and shape—sometimes small, at other times large; now oblong, now square; but one thing never alters, and that is the desirability of using good thick paper and envelopes, whatever the shape may be. Nothing looks more mean and untidy than thin sheets and envelopes of the same quality, through which the writing exhibits itself.”

Etiquette of Good Society, 1893.

2) Use the Proper Color of Writing Paper.

“Perfectly plain paper, thick, smooth, and white, is the most elegant. When in mourning, use paper and envelopes with a black edge. Never use the gilt edged or fancy bordered paper; it looks vulgar, and is in bad taste.”

The Ladies’ Book of Etiquette and Manual of Politeness, 1872.

3) Use a Good Quality Pen.

“Use good pens. Bad pens make bad writers, waste time, spoil paper, and irritate the temper. Therefore it is not economy to use bad pens because they are low in price. A bad pen will be a very dear one if, by spoiling your writing and irritating your temper, it should cause you to write a scrawl in careless language upon business of importance.”

Etiquette, Politeness, and Good Breeding, 1870.

Letter Writer by Johanne Mathilde Dietrichson (1837-1921).

4) Use the Proper Color of Ink.

“The color of ink most durable and tasteful, on all occasions and for all correspondence, is black. Red ink should never be used for the body of a letter. Blue ink may be. Fancy ink may answer for ladies, but is not in taste for gentlemen.”

Hand-Book of Official and Social Etiquette, 1889.

5) Pay Attention to Your Handwriting.

“The handwriting should be clear, and yet not too large and bold; it should possess some character and style, but not be adorned or ornamented with fine flourishes and dashes.”

Etiquette of Good Society, 1893

6) Begin with the Correct Salutation.

“The salutation is the term of politeness used to introduce a letter, as Dear Sir, My Dear Friend, My Honored Father. Business letters generally begin with Sir, Dear Sir, Messrs. or Gentlemen. Never use ‘gents.’ for Gentlemen, nor ‘Dr.’ for Dear. For a letter addressed to a married woman or a single woman not young, the proper salutation is Madam, Dear Madam, or My Dear Madam.

Polite Life and Etiquette, 1891.

The Letter by Alfred Émile Léopold Stevens (1823-1906).

7) When Addressing Friends, Write in a Conversational Style.

“Letter writing is, in fact, but conversation, carried on with the pen, when distance or circumstances prevent the easier method of exchanging ideas, by spoken words. Write, therefore, as you would speak, were the person to whom your letter is addressed seated beside you.”

The Ladies’ Book of Etiquette and Manual of Politeness, 1872.

8) When Addressing Strangers, Write in the Third Person.

“All letters to strangers and notes of formal character should as a rule be written in the third person, and must always be answered in the same way.”

Etiquette of Good Society, 1893.

9) When Addressing Gentlemen, Watch Your Tone.

“Ladies, when writing to gentlemen who are not related to them, should make their letters mediums of improving conversation, brilliant wit, and moral obligations, and always of so high and pure a tone, that they would be fit for publication should they ever be needed.”

Gems of Deportment and Hints of Etiquette, 1881

The Letter by Charles Baugniet (1814-1886).

10) Close Your Letter with the Appropriate Sentiment.

“‘Yours sincerely’ is the correct termination; and whatever the degree of friendship, we are inclined to think that great demonstrations of affection and terms of endearment are better avoided, or left only for the use of lovers.”

Etiquette of Good Society, 1893

11) Proofread for Grammar and Spelling Mistakes.

“Many persons do not naturally spell well, and so are obliged to keep a dictionary always at hand. Such persons should never write a word, about the proper spelling, of which they are uncertain, without looking it up. Bad spelling like bad grammar, is an offence against society.”

Letter-Writing: Its Ethics and Etiquette, 1890

12) Seal Your Envelope Properly.

“The gummed envelope, without a seal is perfectly correct, but a neat seal of red sealing-wax always gives a refined look to a letter and is a desirable adjunct thereto…If the writer is in mourning black sealing wax should, of course, be used, but no other colors except black and red are good form.”

Letter-Writing: Its Ethics and Etiquette, 1890

The Pillar Box by Alexander Johnston, 1876.
(Grundy Art Gallery)

I hope the above tips have given you some insight into the etiquette of Victorian era letter writing. In future (when I’m not working frantically to meet a July 1st book deadline), I will be writing on this subject in more detail. Until then, check out these articles from my archives on letter writing in nineteenth century literature and history!

“Be Not Alarmed, Madam, On Receiving This Letter…”

Napoleon vs. Wellington: The Art Of The Passionate Love Letter

Sources

Benham, Mrs. Georgene Corry. Polite Life and Etiquette; Or, What is Right and the Social Arts. Chicago: Louis Benham & Co., 1891.

Campbell, Lady Gertrude Elizabeth. Etiquette of Good Society. London: Cassell and Company Ltd., 1893.

De Benneville, Randolph Keim. Hand-Book of Official and Social Etiquette and Public Ceremonials at Washington. Washington: Randolph Keim De Benneville, 1889.

Eaton, Arthur Wentworth Hamilton. Letter-Writing: Its Ethics and Etiquette. New York: Frederick A Stokes, 1890.

Etiquette, Politeness, and Good Breeding. London: Ward, Lock, and Tyler, 1870.

Hartley, Florence. The Ladies’ Book of Etiquette and Manual of Politeness. Boston: Lee & Shepard Publishers, 1872.

Rayne, Mrs. Martha Louise. Gems of Deportment and Hints of Etiquette. Detroit: Tyler & Co., 1881.

© 2015-2017 Mimi Matthews

For exclusive information on upcoming book releases, giveaways, and other special treats, subscribe to Mimi’s Quarterly Newsletter by clicking the link below.

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“Remember that a ball-room is a school of politeness, and therefore let your whole conduct be influenced by that strict regard to Etiquette such a place requires.”
Etiquette for Gentleman; or the Principles of True Politeness, 1852.

At the Ball by Albert Edelfelt, 1884.

Not every man who attended a ball during the nineteenth century did so with a lady on his arm. Some attendees were young, single gentlemen. For them, a ball was the perfect place to practice their dancing, polish their conversation skills, and meet eligible young ladies.  It was also a place which required gentlemen to obey strict rules of etiquette.  These rules are far too numerous to cover in a single article. Instead, I’ve gathered twenty tips from various Victorian etiquette books addressing the basics of ballroom etiquette for single gentlemen.  I present them to you below.

1) Respond to Invitations Promptly.

“When you receive an invitation to a ball, answer it immediately.”

The Gentlemen’s Book of Etiquette and Manual of Politeness, 1876.

2) Dress the Part.

“A dress coat, dress boots, full suit of black, and white or very light kid gloves must be worn in a ball room.  A white waistcoat and cravat are sometimes worn, but this is a matter of taste.”

The Gentlemen’s Book of Etiquette and Manual of Politeness, 1876.

3) Once Dressed, Get a Second Opinion.

“Before going to a ball or party it is not sufficient that you consult your mirror twenty times. You must be personally inspected by your servant or a friend.”

Etiquette for Gentlemen; or Short Rules and Reflections for Conduct in Society, 1847.

Godey’s Lady’s Book, 1847.

4) When You Arrive, Pay Your Respects to the Ladies.

“If there are several ladies in the house, take the earliest opportunity of paying your respects to each of them, and invite one of them to dance with you the first dance.”

The Gentlemen’s Book of Etiquette and Manual of Politenes, 1876.

5) If the Ball is Given by a Relative, Be Prepared to Do Your Duty.

“If the ball is given in your own house, or at that of a near relative, it becomes your duty to see that every lady, young or old, handsome or ugly, is provided with a partner, though the oldest and ugliest may fall to your own share.”

The Gentlemen’s Book of Etiquette and Manual of Politeness, 1876.

6) Don’t Dance Unless You Know the Steps.

“No man should attempt to dance without being well acquainted with the figures; for his blunders place the woman who does him the honour to dance with him, in an embarrassing situation, and he will make quite a different figure from what he intends.”

Etiquette for Gentlemen; or Short Rules and Reflections for Conduct in Society, 1847.

Godey’s Lady’s Book, 1847.
(Accessible Archives)

7) When Dancing, Pay Attention to Your Partner.

“A gentleman, while dancing with a lady, should pay almost exclusive attention to her; and at the close of a dance ask her to take refreshments.”

Etiquette for Gentlemen, 1857.

8) Don’t Whisper to the Ladies.

“To affect an air of secrecy or mystery when conversing in a ballroom is a piece of impertinence for which no lady of delicacy will thank you.”

The Gentlemen’s Book of Etiquette and Manual of Politeness, 1876.

9) Don’t Kick and Caper About.

“Dance quietly; do not kick and caper about, nor sway your body to and fro; dance only from the hips downwards; and lead the lady as lightly as you would tread a measure with a spirit of gossamer.”

Hints on Etiquette and the Usages of Society with a Glance at Bad Habits, 1844.

10) Don’t Tread on a Lady’s Skirts.

“If a crowd is present, and a gentleman has occasion to make his way through a press of crinoline and drapery, he should proceed most carefully—haste would be very rude and inexcusable; the danger of soiling, or tearing, or disarranging a lady’s costume forbids any gentleman making a careless step.”

Beadle’s Dime Book of Practical Etiquette for Ladies and Gentlemen, 1859.

A Hunt Ball by Julius LeBlanc Stewart, 1885.

11) When Dancing the Waltz, Mind Your Hands.

“If a lady waltz with you, beware not to press her waist; you must only lightly touch it with the open palm of your hand, lest you leave a disagreeable impression not only on her ceinture, but on her mind.”

The Perfect Gentleman, 1860.

12) When Dancing the Quadrille, Don’t Be a Boor.

“Lead the lady through the quadrille; do not drag her, nor clasp her hand as if it were made of wood, lest she, not unjustly, think you a boor.”

Hints on Etiquette and the Usages of Society with a Glance at Bad Habits, 1844.

13) Don’t Dance Too Frequently with the Same Woman.

“A gentleman should not ask a lady to dance too frequently with him, as he may be excluding others from the same pleasure.”

The Ladies’ and Gentlemen’s Etiquette, 1877.

14) Don’t Forget the Wallflowers.

“A gentleman of genuine politeness will not give all his time and attention to the belles of the evening, but will at least devote a little thought to the wall-flowers who sit forlorn and unattended, and who, but for him, might have no opportunity to dance.”

The Ladies’ and Gentlemen’s Etiquette, 1877.

Elegant Soiree by Jean-Georges Béraud (1848-1935).

15) Accept Rejection with Good Grace.

“When a lady politely declines to dance with you, bear the declination with becoming grace; and, if you perceive her afterwards dancing with another, seem not to notice it; in these matters ladies are exempt from all explanations.”

The Illustrated Manners Book, 1855.

16) Don’t Sit Next to Strange Women.

“A gentleman will not take a vacant seat next a lady who is a stranger to him.  If she is an acquaintance, he may do so with her permission.”

The Ladies’ and Gentlemen’s Etiquette, 1877.

17) Don’t Ridicule the Other Dancers.

“Avoid all unfriendly or ungenerous criticism, ridicule, or satire, as such can never commend you to those whom you address, and may be repeated to your own prejudice.”

The Fashionable Dancer’s Casket, 1856.

Godey’s Lady’s Book, 1847.

18) Don’t Offer to Escort a Lady Home.

“At a public ball, it is exceptional for a gentleman to offer to escort a lady home: she is pretty sure to refuse, unless ____ but we need not supply that blank!”

Etiquette for Gentlemen 1857.

19) Don’t Be the Last to Leave.

“Do not be the last to leave the ball room.  It is more elegant to leave early, as staying too late gives others the impression that you do not often have an invitation to a ball, and must ‘make the most of it.’”

The Gentlemen’s Book of Etiquette and Manual of Politenes, 1876.

20) Don’t Presume on an Acquaintance.

“Any presentation to a lady in a public ball-room for the mere purpose of dancing, does not entitle you to claim her acquaintance afterwards; therefore should you meet her, at most you may lift your hat; but even that is better avoided,—unless, indeed, she first bow, —as neither she nor her friends can know who or what you are.”

The Perfect Gentleman; or, Etiquette and Eloquence, 1860.

The Ball by Charles Wilda, 1906.

I hope the above tips have given you some insight into ballroom etiquette for single Victorian gentleman.  In future (when I’m not working frantically to meet a July 1st book deadline), I will be writing on this subject in more detail. Until then, check out these articles on Victorian gentlemen from my archives!

19th Century Marriage Manuals: Advice for Young Husbands

A Century of Sartorial Style: A Visual Guide to 19th Century Menswear

Sources

Beadle’s Dime Book of Practical Etiquette for Ladies and Gentlemen. New York: Irwin P. Beadle & Co., 1859.

Day, Charles. Hints on Etiquette and the Usages of Society with a Glance at Bad Habits.  Boston: William D. Ticknor & Co., 1844.

Duffey, Eliza Bisbee. The Ladies’ and Gentlemen’s Etiquette. Philadelphia: Porter and Coates, 1877.

Durang, Charles. The Fashionable Dancer’s Casket. Fisher & Brother, 1856.

Etiquette for Gentlemen, Being a Manual of Minor Social Ethics and Customary Observances. London: Knight and Son, 1857.

Etiquette for Gentlemen; or Short Rules and Reflections for Conduct in Society. Philadelphia: Lindsay and Blakiston, 1847.

Etiquette for Gentleman; or the Principles of True Politeness. Halifax: Milner and Sowerby, 1852.

Hartley, Cecil B. The Gentlemen’s Book of Etiquette and Manual of Politeness Being a Complete Guide for a Gentleman’s Conduct in All His Relations. Library of Alexandria, 1876

The Illustrated Manners Book: A Manual of Good Behavior and Polite Accomplishments. New York: Leland Clay, 1855.

The Perfect Gentleman; or, Etiquette and Eloquence. New York: Dick & Fitzgerald, 1860.

© 2015-2017 Mimi Matthews

For exclusive information on upcoming book releases, giveaways, and other special treats, subscribe to Mimi’s Quarterly Newsletter by clicking the link below.

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“Indecency among the Margate Bathers comes round as regularly as the season itself.”
The Era, 23 July 1865.

The Harbor, Margate, England, 1890-1900.
(Library of Congress)

In Victorian England, it was generally believed that the sexes should be kept apart when bathing. To that end, the gentlemen’s wheeled bathing machines at the beach were often kept as much as a quarter of a mile away from the ladies’ machines. This allowed both ladies and gentlemen to enter their respective machines, change into their swimming costumes, and descend into the waves for a swim all without exposing themselves to the lascivious gazes of the opposite sex. There was only one problem—many Victorian ladies and gentlemen actually wanted to swim in company with each other. When they did so, the scandalous practice was known as promiscuous bathing.

Though promiscuous bathing was quite popular on the continent, especially in France, in Victorian England the sight of men and women bathing together was still considered to be rather indecent. In the seaside town of Margate, this indecency was exacerbated by the fact that some gentlemen did not feel the need to put on their bathing drawers and, instead, emerged from their bathing machines in what the 2 September 1854 edition of the Leeds Times describes as an “entirely primitive state.” Once in the water, these naked gentlemen had no compunction about approaching the female bathers nearby. As the Leeds Times reports:

“We counted a party of five females—we cannot call them ladies—who were engaged, amidst shouts of laughter from the bystanders on the beach, with a gentleman, in a splashing match. They were as close together as if they were of the same party.”

A man dressing in a bathing machine. Wood engraving by J. Leech.
(Wellcome Images)

The men and women who engaged in promiscuous bathing at Margate did so in front of a very interested public audience, some of whom employed telescopes to get a better view of the indecency. During the 1854 incident with the naked gentlemen, the Leeds Times reports that:

“The beach was thronged with admiring spectators, and many of them with glasses, although they were not required, as the bathers, from the high tide, were close to the shore.”

Margate soon developed a reputation as a seaside town which attracted a particularly brazen variety of promiscuous bather. According to the 23 July 1865 edition of the Era:

“There must be something morally infectious in the atmosphere of this popular watering place that induces men and women to do that at Margate which they would blush even to be thought capable of doing in any other locality—namely, disregarding all those social observances which are usually called decency in men, and modesty in women.”

Sea Bathing at Margate.
(Wellcome Images)

At Margate, there was no effort made to keep a marked distance between the men’s and women’s bathing machines and the public promenade. At any given time, those strolling along the fashionable walk had full view of men and women frolicking together in the water. As the Era describes it:

“The bathers of both sexes romp, laugh, and perform all kinds of antics in which the actual nudity of the men is infinitely less offensive to our sense of decency than the modest immodesty of the clinging gossamer vestment in which the females cover, without hiding, their forms.”

Just as in the 1850s, the crowds at Margate during the 1860s often used telescopes to get a better view of the “nude groups and sportive syrens” in the water. As an additional point of interest, the Era reports that these “magnifying mediums” were as likely to be used by ladies as by gentlemen. This fact seems to confirm their general view that Margate was not a place which attracted “truly modest women.” Instead, it was “compelled to submit to an inferior society” whose delicacy would not be outraged by sights which had become “a chronic evil.”

“Ahem! Pray Excuse me, Madam My Bathing-Machine I think.”
Punch, October 1870.

Those Victorians who objected to the promiscuous bathing at Margate—especially the sort of promiscuous bathing which involved naked gentlemen—urged the Magistrate to intervene in separating the sexes. As the Era explains, it was well within the Town Council’s power to keep the male and female bathing machines “so far apart as to do away at once with all cause of scandal.” It was also within their power to enact by-laws which would “compel every male bather, after certain hours of the morning, to wear the proper bathing drawers.”

The outcry over promiscuous bathing was not limited to fashionable British seaside resorts and watering holes. In 1896, for example, a London man who was visiting Llandudno was cited for swimming with this three sisters. The 20 August edition of the Yorkshire Evening Post reports that he later received a summons to court for “unlawfully bathing within 200 yards of the ladies bathing ground.” Similarly, at Ayr in 1899, a meeting of police commissioners discussed the feasibility of separating the sexes when swimming. According to the 14 September edition of the Dundee Courier, several law enforcement officers at the meeting declared that “it was impossible to keep the sexes apart.” It was equally impossible to get the men to put on bathing drawers, despite the fact that, as the Dundee Courier states:

“There were bathing dresses for men and women in every machine, and there were printed rules that they were not to bathe without them.”

Promiscuous bathing would continue to be a subject of some concern well into the twentieth century, with one 1922 publication even going so far as to proclaim that “this thing of public and promiscuous bathing of men and women is a degenerating evil for which there is no excuse whatever.”

The Gentlemen’s Machines are Too Close to the Ladies.
(Wellcome Images)

If you would like to learn more about Victorian bathing costumes and summer holidays at the beach, check out these articles from my archives:

Seaside Fashions of the 19th Century

Fashion and Beauty Essentials for a 19th Century Summer Holiday

Sources

Dundee Courier (Angus, Scotland), 14 September 1899. © British Library Board.

Dundee Evening Telegraph (Angus, Scotland), 2 August 1882. © British Library Board.

The Era (London, England), 23 July 1865. © British Library Board.

Leeds Times (West Yorkshire, England), 2 September 1854. © British Library Board.

Lincolnshire Chronicle (Lincolnshire, England), 11 September 1857. © British Library Board.

Works, John Downey. What’s Wrong With the World?: A Comprehensive Study of Present Day Evils. Boston: Stratford Company, 1922.

© 2015-2017 Mimi Matthews

For exclusive information on upcoming book releases, giveaways, and other special treats, subscribe to Mimi’s quarterly newsletter THE PENNY NOT SO DREADFUL.

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The Lover’s Letter Box by George Baxter, 1856.

As many of you know, I have several books that will be coming out over the next year. In anticipation of their release, I’d love to learn a little more about your reading habits. I have devised two brief and wholly unscientific poll questions. It will take just a few moments of your time to answer each of them and will help me tremendously in planning for my upcoming releases. 

Poll Question #1

Poll Question #2

Thank you all for taking the time to participate! My non-fiction animal history book The Pug Who Bit Napoleon: Animal Tales of the 18th and 19th Centuries comes out this November and A Victorian Lady’s Guide to Fashion and Beauty comes out next year. In between, a few Victorian romance novels will be coming out as well. Stay tuned!

For exclusive information on upcoming book releases, giveaways, and other special treats, subscribe to Mimi’s quarterly newsletter THE PENNY NOT SO DREADFUL.

You can also connect with Mimi on Facebook and Twitter.

At long last, I can reveal the beautiful cover of my upcoming book, The Pug Who Bit Napoleon: Animal Tales of the 18th and 19th Centuries. It was designed by Dominic Allen at Pen and Sword Books (UK) and features one of my favourite historical pug paintings. I hope you love it as much as I do!

The back cover copy reads as follows:

From elaborate Victorian cat funerals to a Regency era pony who took a ride in a hot air balloon, Mimi Matthews shares some of the quirkiest and most poignant animal tales of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.

Meet Fortune, the Pug who bit Napoleon on his wedding night, and Looty, the Pekingese sleeve dog who was presented to Queen Victoria after the 1860 sacking of the Summer Palace in Peking. The four-legged friends of Lord Byron, Emily Brontë, and Prince Albert also make an appearance, as do the treasured pets of Alexander Pope, Samuel Johnson, and Charles Dickens.

Less famous, but no less fascinating, are the animals that were the subject of historical lawsuits, scandals, and public curiosity. There’s Tuppy, the purloined pet donkey; Biddy, the regimental chicken; and Barnaby and Burgho, the bloodhounds hired to hunt Jack the Ripper. Wild animals also get a mention in tales that encompass everything from field mice and foxes to alligators and sharks lurking in the Thames.

Using research from eighteenth and nineteenth century books, letters, journals, and newspapers, Mimi Matthews brings each animal’s unique history to vivid life. The details are sometimes humorous, sometimes heartbreaking, but the stories are never anything less than fascinating reading for animal lovers of all ages.

The Pug Who Bit Napoleon is now available for pre-order at Amazon UK. It will be released in the United Kingdom on November 30. I’ll update with information on the American pre-order and release dates as soon as I have them.

Pre-Order Your Copy at Amazon UK

*NOTICE TO WORDPRESS SUBSCRIBERS: I will be changing website providers at the end of this month. My website address will be the same, but I will no longer be on the WordPress platform.  If you currently follow my blog through your WordPress account and you would like to continue to receive a notification whenever I post a new article, please subscribe to my blog via email at the top right side of the screen.

© 2015-2017 Mimi Matthews

For exclusive information on upcoming book releases, giveaways, and other special treats, subscribe to Mimi’s quarterly newsletter THE PENNY NOT SO DREADFUL.

You can also connect with Mimi on Facebook and Twitter.

The Bayswater Omnibus by George William Joy (1855-1925).

MimiMatthews.com is presently undergoing a complete website redesign. My new website will launch in the next week or two. My web address will be the same, but my entire website is going to look very different. Don’t be alarmed! It’s still me. All the same content will be available to you—including my archive of articles on nineteenth century animals, etiquette, fashion, beauty, and law.

So, what does this mean for you? For those who follow my website via email, nothing is going to change. You will continue to receive email notifications whenever I post a new article. If, however, you follow my website through your WordPress account, you will no longer receive notifications. If you would like to continue receiving notifications of new articles, please subscribe to my website via email. The email subscription form has been moved to the top right side of the screen for your convenience.  If you are logged into WordPress, it will say you are already subscribed. In order for the email sign-up box to appear, you will have to log out of WordPress first.

I have loved my two years at WordPress, but I’m very excited to move on to the next chapter. I think you will all be pleased with the beautiful new look of my website. If you haven’t subscribed by email already, please do. The omnibus will be leaving shortly. I don’t want anyone to get left behind!

An Omnibus Ride to Piccadilly Circus, Mr. Gladstone Travelling with Ordinary Passengers
by Alfred Morgan, 1885.