Mistaking the Titled for the Untitled

Titles were very important to those in society in the Gilded Age. Bloomsbury.com gives this description of the reproduction of the Gilded Age book, “Titled Americans: The Real Heiresses’ Guide to Marrying and Aristocrat”: “A fascinating Introduction to the ‘Dollar Princess’ trade by noted historian Eric Homberger explains the phenomenon of American brides exchanging enormous dowries for the right to be the Lady of a great English manor. … What would entice a young American bride to leave their families, homes and everything familiar to travel thousands of miles away to a land and culture with a myriad of rigid and absolutely foreign social rules, traditions and customs? The bachelors who are chronicled in Titled Americans drew the attention of many aspiring American bridal prospects who thumbed through the pages of this Who's Who of British aristocracy, letting their hearts fill with the fantasy of being the Lady of a great estate as they mulled over the directory's full details of every bachelor's income, property value and net worth!”

Poor Aunt Matilda

She Made a Grievous Mistake and Lost an Opportunity of a Lifetime

“At last I am quits with old Aunt-in-law Matilda, who, as I told you, has never yet forgiven Harry for marrying a Yankee girl,” writes a transplanted compatriot, who remains a staunch American, despite her English surroundings. “It happened in this wise: Harry, who is always so good natured and is adored by his sisters and his cousins and his aunts, asked the old woman to dinner one night last week. 

“She arrived early, as usual, and presented herself at my bedroom door, asking permission to come in and put on her cap, which she always carries in a little package whenever she goes out. I hate being bothered when I am dressing, but of course I assumed a friendly air, and we entered into conversation as if we were really good friends, instead of cordially detesting each other. ‘Harry said we should be quite alone tonight,’ remarked my relative, ‘so I wore my second best lappets.’ ‘They are very nice, I am sure,’ I said carelessly in reply, but we are not quite alone after all. A cousin of mine, who arrived in London today, is coming, and Lord A. proposed himself this afternoon.’

“‘Oh, really!’ exclaimed Aunt Matilda, who like most English women of the upper middle class, is a veritable tuft hunter. The young Earl of — İ shall be delighted to meet his lordship. I know his mother, the countess, quite well,’ and she arranged herself before the glass in quite a twitter of anticipation. When she was ready, we went down and found Harry and our two guests in the drawing room. Cousin Jack did look a perfect dear, so blond and so irreproach able altogether from the top of his well groomed, shining head to the tips of his patent leather shoes, and I could have hugged him for being such a creditable specimen of a well bred American. Lord A. beside him looked very small, very sal low and altogether insignificant.

“Aunt Matilda did not hesitate an instant as to which was the Lordling as they both made their bows simultaneously on being presented to her. She gave the most gracious smile and handshake to Jack and such a snubby little nod to Lord A. Oh, it was too delicious! At dinner the conversation was very general, about the last new play, the Royal Academy, the weather, etc. So poor, deluded Aunt Matilda did not find out her mistake and flattered Jack until he did not know which way to look, while she ignored and snubbed poor Lord A. at every turn.

“After dinner the old cat took me to task for not having gone in to dinner with the Earl. ‘Such a breach of etiquette, dear Kitty,’ she said. ‘You really should be more careful.’ And then she added, jauntily, ‘You know at Rome you should do as the Romans do, and over here we think a great deal of that sort of thing.’

“Then came my revenge, and, oh, how delighted I was! I smiled my sweetest and said languidly: ‘I fancied you had mistaken my cousin Jack for Lord A. What a pity! You would have liked asking about his mother, should you not?’ Oh, if you could have seen her face! And the cup of her anguish quite overflowed when Harry came into the drawing room with Jack, saying: ‘A. had to go to fetch his sister from a dinner party. He did not know how late it was, so he asked me to make his apologies and to say good night.’ “I am sure Aunt M. will count that evening among the lost opportunities of her life.”-New York Tribune, 1893

Etiquette Enthusiast, Maura J. Graber, is the Site Editor for the Etiquipedia© Etiquette Encyclopedia