Etiquette of Gilded Age Dinners and Service

Tablecloths of white damask, double or single, as fine as the owner's purse admits, are used for the dinner-table, with large square white napkins to correspond.

While preparations have been going on in the dining-room, the guests have been assembling in the drawing-room. It is proper to arrive from five to fifteen minutes before the hour mentioned in the invitation, allowing time to pay respects to the host and hostess, without haste of manner, before the dinner is announced.

A gentleman wears a dress suit at dinner. A lady wears a handsome gown, "dinner dress " being " full dress ;" differing, however, from the evening party or reception gown in the kind of fabrics used. The most filmy gauzes are suitable for a ball costume; while dinner dress—for any but very young ladies—is usually of more substantial materials—rich silk or velvet softened in effect with choice lace, or made brilliant with jet trimmings.

When the dinner party is strictly formal, and the company evenly matched in pairs, the following order is observed:

Each gentleman finds in the hall, as he enters, a card bearing his name and the name of the lady whom he is to take out; also, a small boutoinntere, which he pins on his coat. If the lady is a stranger, he asks to be presented to her, and establishes an easy conversation before moving toward the dining-room.

The Announcement Of Dinner

When dinner is ready the fact is made known to the hostess by the butler, or maid-servant, who comes to the door and quietly says "Dinner is served." A bell is never rung for dinner, nor for any other formal meal.

The host leads the way, taking out the lady who is given the place of first consideration ; the most distinguished woman, the greatest stranger, the most elderly—whatever the basis of distinction. Other couples follow in the order assigned to them, each gentleman seating the lady on his right. The hostess comes last, with the most distinguished male guest. If there is a footman, or more than one, the chairs are deftly placed for each guest; but if only a maid is in waiting, each gentleman arranges his own and his partner's chairs as quietly as possible.

As soon as the company are seated, each one removes the bread; and the napkin, partially unfolded, is laid across the lap. It is not tucked in at the neck or the vest front, or otherwise disposed as a feeding-bib. It is a towel, for wiping the lips and fingers in emergencies, but should be used unobtrusively—not flourished like a flag of truce.

The Serving Of The Dinner

When dinner is ready the fact is made known to the hostess by the butler, or maid-servant, who comes to the door and quietly says " Dinner is served." A bell is never rung for dinner, nor for any other formal meal.

The servant is ready to hand from the sideboard any condiments desired for the oysters, which are promptly disposed of. It may be remarked at the outset, that everything at table is handed at the left, except wine, which is offered at the right. Ladies are served first.

After the oyster-plates are removed, the soup is served from the side table—a half ladleful to each plate being considered the correct quantity. The rule regarding soup is double, you must, and you must not. You must accept it (whether you eat it it or merely pretend to), but you must not ask for a second helping, since to do so would prolong a course that is merely an "appetizer" preparatory to the substantials.

The soup-plates are removed, and the fish immediately appears, served on plates with mashed potatoes or salad, or sometimes both, in which case a separate dish is provided for the salad. The entrees follow the fish, hot plates being provided, as required. Dishes containing the entrees should have a large spoon and fork laid upon them, and should be held low, so that the guest may help himself easily.

Again the dishes are removed. Here we may pause to remark that the prompt and orderly removal of the dishes after each successive course is a salient feature of skillful waiting. The accomplished waiter never betrays haste or nervousness, but his every movement "tells," and that, too, without clatter, or the dropping of small articles, or the dripping of sauces. The plates, etc., vanish from the table—whither, we observe not. The waiter in the dining-room must have the co-operation of the servant behind the scenes, to receive and convey the relays of dishes to the kitchen. However it is managed, and it must be managed, the nearer the operation can appear to be a "magic transformation," the better.

To return; the roast is the next course. The carving is done at the side table. Guests are consulted as to their preference for "rare" or "well-done;" and the meat, in thin slices, is served on hot plates, with vegetables at discretion on the same plate, separate vegetable dishes—except for salads— not being used on private dinner tables. Certain vegetables, as sweet corn on the cob, may be regarded as a course by themselves, being too clumsy to be disposed of conveniently on a plate with other things.

The game course is next in order (if it is included, as it generally is in an elaborate dinner). Celery is an appropriate accompaniment of the game course. The salad is sometimes served with the game; otherwise it follows as a course by itself.

The salad marks the end of the heavy courses. The crumb tray is brought, and the table-cloth is cleared of all stray fragments. A rolled napkin makes a quiet brush for this purpose, especially on a finely polished damask cloth.

The dessert is now in order. Finger-bowls and doylies are brought in on the dessert-plates. Each person at once removes the bowl and doyley to make ready for whatever is to be put on the plate.

Ices, sweets (pastry and confections), cheese, follow in course; and, finally, the fruits and bon-bons. Strong coffee is served last of all, in small cups. Fashion decrees cafe noir, and few lovers of cream care to rebel on so formal an occasion as a dinner; but when the formality is not too rigid, the little cream jug may be smuggled in for those who prefer cafe au lait.

Water is the staple drink of the American dinner table. A palatable table water, like Apollinaris, well iced, is an elegant substitute for wine when habit or conscience forbids the latter.

When wine is served with the different courses at dinner, the appropriate use is as follows: with soup, sherry ; with the fish, chablis, hock, or sauterne ; with the roast, claret and champagne; after the game course, Madeira and port; with the dessert, sherry, claret, or Burgundy. 

After dinner are served champagne and other sparkling wines, just off the ice, and served without decanting, a napkin being wrapped around the wet bottle.

While wine may be accounted indispensable by many, the growing sentiment in favor of its total banishment from the dinner-table has this effect on the etiquette of the case, that the neglect to provide wine for even a very formal dinner is not now the breach of good form which it would have been held to be some years ago. Such neglect has been sanctioned by the example of acknowledged social leaders; and when it is the exponent of a temperance principle it has the respect of every diner-out, whatever his private choice in the matter. No gentleman will grumble at the absence of wine at his host's table. It is good form for a host to serve or not serve wine, as he chooses; it is very bad form for his guest to comment on his choice. When any one who is conscientiously opposed to wine-drinking, or for any reason abstains, is present at a dinner where wine is served, he declines it by simply laying his hand on the rim of his glass as the butler approaches. No words are necessary.  

Apollinaris will take the place of stronger waters, and no embarrassment follows to either host or guest. As to the moral involved, a silent example may be quite as influential as an aggressive exhibition of one's principles. Questions of manners and morals' are constantly elbowing one another, and it is a nice point to decide when and how far duty requires one to defy conventionality. It is safe to say that only in extreme eases is this ever necessary, or even permissible. The hostess who simply does not offer wine to any guest under any circumstances, is using her influence effectively and courteously, especially when she supplies the deficiency with delicious coffee and cocoa, fragrant tea, and, best and rarest of all, crystal clear, sparkling cold water. By pointing out a " more excellent way," she is adding to her faith virtue. –From “Etiquette: An Answer to the Riddle When? Where? How??’” By Agnes H. Morton

 🍽Etiquette Enthusiast, Maura J. Graber of The RSVP Institute of Etiquette, is the Site Editor for the Etiquipedia© Etiquette Encyclopedia

Conformity and Etiquette

... in the Victorian Era

"La mode universelle."

You must conform, to such an extent as not to annoy and give offense, to the customs, whether in dress or other matters, of the circle in which you move. This conformity is an implied condition in the social compact. It is a practical recognition of the right of others, and shows merely a proper regard for their opinions and feelings. 

If you cannot sing in tune with the rest, or on the same key, remain silent. You may be right and the others wrong but that does not alter the case. Convince them, if you can, and bring themto your pitch, but never mar even a low accord. So if you cannot adapt your dress and manners to the company in which you find yourself, the sooner you take your leave the better. 

You may and should endeavor, in a proper way, to change such customs and fashions as you may deem wrong, or injurious in their tendency, but, in the mean time, you have no right to violate them. You may choose your company, but, having chosen it, you must conform to its rules 'til you can change them. You are not compelled to reside in Rome; but if you choose to live there, you must "do as the Romans do."

You are not compelled to reside in Rome; but if you choose to live there, you must "do as the Romans do.

The rules which should govern your conduct, as an isolated individual, were such a thing as isolation possible in the midst of society, are modified by your relations to those around you. This life of ours is a complex affair, and our greatest errors arise from our one-side views of it. We are sovereign individuals, and are born with certain "inalienable rights;" but we are also members of that larger individual society, and our rights can not conflict with the duties which grow out of that relation. If by means of our non-conformity we cause ourselves to be cut off, like an offending hand, or plucked out, like an offending eye, our usefulness is at once destroyed.

King Abdullah and Hu Jintao drink tea together.

It is related of a certain king that on a particular occasion he

turned his tea into his saucer, contrary to his custom and to the

etiquette of society, because two country ladies, whose hospitalities he was enjoying, did so. That king was a gentleman; and this anecdote serves to illustrate an important principle; namely, that true politeness and genuine good manners often not only permit, but absolutely demand, a violation of some of the arbitrary rules of etiquette.

From "How to Behave: A Pocket Manual of Republican Etiquette,

and Guide to Correct Personal Habits Embracing An Exposition

Of The Principles Of Good Manners"

By Samuel R. (Roberts) Wells, 1877

Gilded Age Etiquette of Teas, High Teas and Calls

The Centennial Tea Party, The U.S. Capitol, 1875

AFTER an invitation to a formal breakfast or luncheon, a call is quite as much de rigueur as after a dinner, but is not required after a “tea at five o'clock.”

That is a form of entertainment which means to dispense with formal etiquette and to save time. A lady or gentleman who chooses to accept the invitation thus tendered has made his call; he need not make another. Nor need a lady do more than leave her card on the day of the tea; her duties are then over for the season, unless a dinner invitation follows. Dinner invitations demand a speedy call.

But life would be a sorry burden did every five o'clock tea involve a call afterward, as well as the original visit.

Five o'clock teas should be marked by the absence of any other refreshment than tea, thin sandwiches and cake. If even chocolate and nonpareils are added, there is no longer an excuse for calling it a “five o'clock tea.” It has become a reception.

The original five o'clock tea arose in England, from the fact that gentlemen and ladies, before they dressed for dinner, met to take the slight refreshment of a cup of tea, and to perhaps indulge in a little chat. Like everything informal, it  became very popular, and came over to America as an English fashion of entertaining. The teakettle, here, however, became a floral decoration, and the five o'clock tea a party.

This has confused people as to the etiquette of leaving a card afterward, but we assure the doubtful, that neither the invited guest is required to call again, nor is the lady of the house required to call on those who come to her five o'clock tea. Her card inviting them has entirely served the purpose.

The Victorian or Gilded Age Kitchen and Servants

There are entertainments, known as “high teas,” which do necessitate a call. These are usually given on Sunday evenings in cities; but at watering-places, or at country places, or in rural cities, they take the place of dinners. They are very pretty entertainments, and great favorites in Philadelphia. It is an opportunity for the hostess to show her beautiful cut-glass, to get out her preserves, to offer her hot rolls, scalloped oysters and delicate fried chicken. 

Berries and cream, and all sorts of delicate dishes, appear at the high tea, which would be lost at dinner. The hostess sits behind her silver salver and pours the coffee, tea or chocolate herself. It is only fair to say, that this meal is a greater favorite with ladies than with gentlemen, the partridges, mushrooms on toast, pâté de foie gras, and delicately-sliced cold ham, belonging, in the masculine mind, either to breakfast or lunch, and needing wine to wash them down. But young ladies who drink no wine are devoted to high teas. The invitations are always written as to a dinner, as only a limited number can be asked.

In the country these high teas are delightful, and, coming after a long drive or a picnic, with the solid accompaniments of a beefsteak and a baked potato, are very popular. Waffles and hot cakes, honey and maple molasses, all the American dishes, are popular at this meal, which has its prototype in England or on the Continent.

It is doubtful whether the high tea will ever be popular in New York, whereto it conflicts with the custom of seven o'clock dinners. People find them antagonistic to digestion—it is a violent change of living. Tea and coffee taken in the evening keep many people awake, a single little cup of black coffee, which helps digestion, being the only stimulant that most Americans can endure of the “beverages which we infuse.”

Frozen coffee (a delicious refreshment), cold birds, meat pies, salads, salmon, various kinds of punch, biscuits, and, perhaps, jellies, ices and Charlotte's standing where the guest can go and help himself.

Some ladies, who give these receptions, choose to have a “buffet” entertainment. Frozen coffee (a delicious refreshment), cold birds, meat pies, salads, salmon, various kinds of punch, biscuits, and, perhaps, jellies, ices and Charlotte's standing where the guest can go and help himself. One or two servants can serve such a table, it is less trouble than the hot oyster style of thing, and even the serving of tea is more onerous. It has the advantage, too, of being scentless; while hot oysters, served in the house, invariably fill the house with odor. Perhaps as elegant a table as is needed is one where iced tea and coffee, cold game and salad, and punch, with pâté de foie gras sandwiches, stand invitingly ready through the three hours' reception.

On very cold days, hot tea and bouillon are, however, eagerly sought for by the shivering ladies who go from house to house.

No formal calls are made in America on Sunday. A gentleman must have a lady's permission to call on that day. In Europe it is very different. The opera is never so fashionable as on Sunday evening; dinners are always given, and Sunday is especially a fete day. But in America, all dinners and teas are informal on that day, and generally confined to the members of one's family.

Now, all books of etiquette have a chapter on “Cards” and card leaving, but no two of them agree. Young men—who, in America, are extremely remiss in social duties—are told in one, that, if they send their cards by post, they have requited the hospitality of the lady who invites them. This is far from being the opinion of the best ladies in society. If a lady has time to invite a gentleman to dinner, and he comes, he should certainly find time, either to call, in person, on her reception day, or on some evening. It is not enough that he should send a card by post. The only person who is excused for sending a card by post is he who is suddenly called on to leave town, or someone who is, by the death of a relative, thrown into mourning.

“While Mr. Tittlebat Titmouse adorns his outer man, the reader gets a glimpse of his inner man, such as it is.”

A modern writer on etiquette has the following rather plain talk:

“The properly-trained youth does not annoy those next to whom he sits by fidgeting in his chair, moving his feet, playing with his bread or with the table equipage. Neither does he chew his food with his mouth open, or talk with it in his mouth. His food is not conveyed in too large or in too small quantities to his mouth. He neither holds his head as erect as a ramrod, nor does he bury his face in his plate. He handles his knife and fork properly, and not 'overhand' as a clown would. He removes them from the plate as soon as it is placed before him, and he crosses them, side by side, when he has finished" (Here we differ. The modern youth lets his knife and fork alone, except when he is conveying food to his mouth with them, or should do so), "and not before, as this is a sign which a well-drilled butler observes for returning the plate. He does not leave his coffee or tea spoon in the cup. He avoids using his handkerchief unnecessarily, or disgusting those near him by trumpet-like performances with it. He does not converse in a loud tone, nor indulge in uproarious laughter. If he breaks an article, he is not profuse in apologies, but shows his regret in his face and his manner rather than in words. Tittlebat Titmouse, when he broke a glass dish, assured his hostess that he would replace it with the best in London.”

This is good, strong writing, and undoubtedly would have been useful to the Roger Chawbacons of the fifteenth century. But we can hardly suppose that many young men would, in the present day, need these very practical hints. The age is beyond them. – From “Etiquette, the American Code of Manners,” 1884, by Mary Elizabeth Wilson Sherwood

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

Victorian Etiquette in England

On “The Dinner Table”

   

George Routledge –1812-1888 

To be acquainted with every detail of the etiquette pertaining to this subject is of the highest importance to every gentleman. Ease, savoir faire, and good breeding are nowhere more indispensable than at the dinner-table, and the absence of them are nowhere more apparent. How to eat soup and what to do with a cherry-stone are weighty considerations when taken as the index of social status; and it is not too much to say, that a man who elected to take claret with his fish, or ate peas with his knife, would justly risk the punishment of being banished from good society. As this subject is one of the most important of which we have to treat, we may be pardoned for introducing an appropriate anecdote related by the French poet Delille:

Delille and Marmontel were dining together in the month of April, 1786, and the conversation happened to turn upon dinner-table customs. Marmontel observed how many little things a well-bred man was obliged to know, if he would avoid being ridiculous at the tables of his friends. "They are, indeed, innumerable," said Delille; "and the most annoying fact of all is, that not all the wit and good sense in the world can help one to divine them untaught.

A little while ago, for instance, the Abbé Cosson, who is Professor of Literature at the Collège Mazarin, was describing to me a grand dinner to which he had been invited at Versailles, and to which he had sat down in the company of peers, princes, and marshals of France. "'I'll wager, now,' said I, 'that you committed a hundred blunders in the etiquette of the table!' "

'How so?' replied the Abbé, somewhat nettled. 'What blunders could I make? It seems to me that I did precisely as others did.'

"'And I, on the contrary, would stake my life that you did nothing as others did. But let us begin at the beginning, and see which is right. In the first place there was your table-napkin–what did you do with that when you sat down at table?'"

'What did I do with my table-napkin? Why, I did like the rest of the guests: I shook it out of the folds, spread it before me, and fastened one corner to my button-hole.'

"'Very well, mon cher; you were the only person who did so. No one shakes, spreads, and fastens a table-napkin in that manner. You should have only laid it across your knees. What soup had you?'"

'Turtle.'

"'And how did you eat it?'"

'Like every one else, I suppose. I took my spoon in one hand, and my fork in the other'

"'Your fork! Good heavens! None but a savage eats soup with a fork. But go on. What did you take next?' "

'A boiled egg.'

"'Good and what did you do with the shell?' "

'Not eat it certainly. I left it, of course, in the egg-cup.'

"'Without breaking it through with your spoon?' "

'Without breaking it.'

"'Then, my dear fellow, permit me to tell you that no one eats an egg without breaking the shell and leaving the spoon standing in it. And after your egg?' "

'I asked for some bouilli.' "'For boulli! It is a term that no one uses. You should have asked for beef–never for boulli. Well, and after the bouilli?' "

'I asked the Abbé de Radonvillais for some fowl.'

"'Wretched man! Fowl, indeed! You should have asked for chicken or capon. The word "fowl" is never heard out of the kitchen. But all this applies only to what you ate; tell me something of what you drank, and how you asked for it.' "

'I asked for champagne and bordeaux from those who had the bottles before them.'

"'Know then, my good friend, that only a waiter, who has no time or breath to spare, asks for champagne or bordeaux. A gentleman asks for vin de Champagne and vin de Bordeaux. And now inform me how you ate your bread?' "

'Undoubtedly like all the rest of the world. I cut it up into small square pieces with my knife.'

"'Then let me tell you that no one cuts bread. You should always break it. Let us go on to the coffee. How did you drink yours?' "

'Pshaw! At least I could make no mistake in that. It was boiling hot, so I poured it, a little at a time, in the saucer, and drank it as it cooled.'

"'Eh bien! then you assuredly acted as no other gentleman in the room. Nothing can be more vulgar than to pour tea or coffee into a saucer. You should have waited till it cooled, and then have drank it from the cup. And now you see, my dear cousin, that, so far from doing precisely as others did, you acted in no one respect according to the laws prescribed by etiquette.'"

                                  

French poet Delille, 

1738-1813 

On "Invitation to Dine" 

An invitation to dine should be replied to immediately, and unequivocally accepted or declined. Once accepted, nothing but an event of the last importance should cause you to fail in your engagement. To be exactly punctual is the strictest politeness on these occasions. If you are too early, you are in the way; if too late, you spoil the dinner, annoy the hostess, and are hated by the rest of the guests.

Some authorities are even of opinion that in the question of a dinner-party "never" is better than "late;" and one author has gone so far as to say, if you do not reach the house till dinner is served, you had better retire to a restaurateur's, and thence send an apology, and not interrupt the harmony of the courses by awkward excuses and cold acceptance.

When the party is assembled, the mistress or master of the house will point out to each gentleman the lady whom he is to conduct to table. If she be a stranger, you had better seek an introduction; if a previous acquaintance, take care to be near her when the dinner is announced, offer your arm, and go down according to precedence of rank. This order of precedence must be arranged by the host or hostess, as the guests are probably unacquainted, and cannot know each other's social rank. 

When the society is of a distinguished kind, the host will do well to consult Debrett or Burke, before arranging his visitors. When rank is not in question, other claims to precedence must be considered. The lady who is the greatest stranger should be taken down by the master of the house, and the gentleman who is the greatest stranger should conduct the hostess. Married ladies take precedence of single ladies, elder ladies of younger ones, and so forth.
    

A sumptuous table set for 18 for dinner. 

When dinner is announced, the host offers his arm to the lady of most distinction, invites the rest to follow by a few words or a bow, and leads the way. The lady of the house should then follow with the gentleman who is most entitled to that honour, and the visitors follow in the order that the master of the house has previously arranged. The lady of the house frequently remains, however, till the last, that she may see her guests go down in their prescribed order; but the plan is not a convenient one. It is much better that the hostess should be in her place as the guests enter the dining-room, in order that she may indicate their seats to them as they come in, and not find them all crowded together in uncertainty when she arrives.

The number of guests at a dinner-party should always be determined by the size of the table. When the party is too small, conversation flags, and a general air of desolation pervades the table. When they are too many, every one is inconvenienced. A space of two feet should be allowed to each person. It is well to arrange a party in such wise that the number of ladies and gentlemen be equal.

It requires some tact to distribute your guests so that each shall find himself with a neighbour to his taste; but as much of the success of a dinner will always depend on this matter, it is worth some consideration. If you have a wit, or a particularly good talker, among your visitors, it is well to place him near the centre of the table, where he can be heard and talked to by all. It is obviously a bad plan to place two such persons in close proximity. They extinguish each other. Neither is it advisable to assign two neighbouring seats to two gentlemen of the same profession, as they are likely to fall into exclusive conversation and amuse no one but themselves.

A little consideration of the politics, religious opinions, and tastes of his friends, will enable a judicious host to avoid many quicksands, and establish much pleasant intercourse on the occasion of a dinner party. The lady of the house takes the head of the table. The gentleman who led her down to dinner occupies the seat on her right hand, and the gentleman next in order of precedence, that on her left. The master of the house takes the foot of the table. The lady whom he escorted sits on his right hand, and the lady next in order of precedence on his left. The gentlemen who support the lady of the house should offer to relieve her of the duties of hostess.

Many ladies are well pleased thus to delegate the difficulties of carving, and all gentlemen who accept invitations to dinner should be prepared to render such assistance when called upon. To offer to carve a dish, and then perform the office unskilfully, is an unpardonable gaucherie. Every gentleman should carve, and carve well.

As soon as you are seated at table, remove your gloves, place your table napkin across your knees, and remove the roll which you find probably within it to the left side of your plate. The soup should be placed on the table first. Some old-fashioned persons still place soup and fish together; but "it is a custom more honoured in the breach than the observance." Still more old-fashioned, and in still worse taste is it to ask your guests if they will take "soup or fish." They are as much separate courses as the fish and the meat; and all experienced diners take both. In any case, it is inhospitable to appear to force a choice upon a visitor, when that visitor, in all probability, will prefer to take his soup first and his fish afterwards.

All well-ordered dinners begin with soup, whether in summer or winter. The lady of the house should help it and send it round, without asking each individual in turn. It is as much an understood thing as the bread beside each plate, and those who do not choose it, are always at liberty to leave it untasted. In eating soup, remember always to take it from the side of the spoon, and to make no sound in doing so. If the servants do not go round with wine the gentlemen should help the ladies and themselves to sherry or sauterne immediately after the soup. You should never ask for a second supply of either soup or fish; it delays the next course, and keeps the table waiting.

Never offer to "assist" your neighbours to this or that dish. The word is inexpressibly vulgar--all the more vulgar for its affectation of elegance. "Shall I send you some mutton?" or "may I help you to grouse?" is better chosen and better bred. As a general rule, it is better not to ask your guests if they will partake of the dishes; but to send the plates round, and let them accept or decline them as they please. At very large dinners it is sometimes customary to distribute little lists of the order of the dishes at intervals along the table. It must be confessed that this gives somewhat the air of a dinner at an hotel; but it has the advantage of enabling the visitors to select their fare, and, as "forewarned is forearmed," to keep a corner, as the children say, for their favourite dishes.

If you are asked to take wine, it is polite to select the same as that which your interlocutor is drinking. If you invite a lady to take wine, you should ask her which she will prefer, and then take the same yourself. Should you, however, for any reason prefer some other vintage, you can take it by courteously requesting her permission. As soon as you are helped, begin to eat; or, if the viands are too hot for your palate, take up your knife and fork and appear to begin. To wait for others is now not only old-fashioned, but ill-bred. Never offer to pass on the plate to which you have been helped. This is a still more vulgar piece of politeness, and belongs to the manners of a hundred years ago. The lady of the house who sends your plate to you is the best judge of precedence at her own table.

In helping soup, fish, or any other dish, remember that to overfill a plate is as bad as to supply it too scantily. Silver fish-knives will now always be met with at the best tables; but where there are none, a piece of crust should be taken in the left hand, and the fork in the right. There is no exception to this rule in eating fish. We presume it is scarcely necessary to remind the reader that he is never, under any circumstances, to convey his knife to his mouth.

Peas are eaten with the fork; tarts, curry, and puddings of all kinds with the spoon. Always help fish with a fish-slice, and tart and puddings with a spoon, or, if necessary, a spoon and fork. Asparagus must be helped with the asparagus-tongs. In eating asparagus, it is well to observe what others do, and act accordingly. Some very well-bred people eat it with the fingers; others cut off the heads, and convey them to the mouth upon the fork. It would be difficult to say which is the more correct.

In eating stone fruit, such as cherries, damsons, etc..., the same rule had better be observed. Some put the stones out from the mouth into a spoon, and so convey them to the plate. Others cover the lips with the hand, drop them unseen into the palm, and so deposit them on the side of the plate. In our own opinion, the last is the better way, as it effectually conceals the return of the stones, which is certainly the point of highest importance. Of one thing we may be sure, and that is, that they must never be dropped from the mouth to the plate. In helping sauce, always pour it on the side of the plate.

If the servants do not go round with the wine (which is by far the best custom), the gentlemen at a dinner-table should take upon themselves the office of helping those ladies who sit near them. Ladies take more wine in the present day than they did fifty years ago, and gentlemen should remember this, and offer it frequently. Ladies cannot very well ask for wine, but they can always decline it. At all events, they do not like to be neglected, or to see gentlemen liberally helping themselves, without observing whether their fair neighbours' glasses are full or empty. Young ladies seldom drink more than three glasses of wine at dinner; but married ladies, professional ladies, and those accustomed to society, and habits of affluence, will habitually take five or even six, whether in their own homes or at the tables of their friends.

The habit of taking wine with each other has almost wholly gone out of fashion. A gentleman may ask the lady whom he conducted down to dinner; or he may ask the lady of the house to take wine with him. But even these last remnants of the old custom are fast falling into disuse. Unless you are a total abstainer, it is extremely uncivil to decline taking wine if you are invited to do so. In accepting, you have only to pour a little fresh wine into your glass, look at the person who invited you, bow slightly, and take a sip from the glass. It is particularly ill-bred to empty your glass on these occasions.

Certain wines are taken with certain dishes, by old-established custom--as sherry, or sauterne, with soup and fish; hock and claret with roast meat; punch with turtle; champagne with whitebait; port with venison; port, or burgundy, with game; sparkling wines between the roast and the confectionery; madeira with sweets; port with cheese; and for dessert, port, tokay, madeira, sherry, and claret. Red wines should never be iced, even in summer. Claret and burgundy should always be slightly warmed; claret-cup and champagne-cup should, of course, be iced. Instead of cooling their wines in the ice-pail, some hosts have of late years introduced clear ice upon the table, broken up in small lumps, to be put inside the glasses. This is an innovation that cannot be too strictly reprehended or too soon abolished. Melting ice can but weaken the quality and flavour of the wine. Those who desire to drink wine and water can ask for iced water if they choose, but it savours too much of economy on the part of a host to insinuate the ice inside the glasses of his guests, when the wine could be more effectually iced outside the bottle.

A silver knife and fork should be placed to each guest at dessert. If you are asked to prepare fruit for a lady, be careful to do so, by means of the silver knife and fork only, and never to touch it with your fingers. It is wise never to partake of any dish without knowing of what ingredients it is composed. You can always ask the servant who hands it to you, and you thereby avoid all danger of having to commit the impoliteness of leaving it, and showing that you do not approve of it. Never speak while you have anything in your mouth.

Be careful never to taste soups or puddings till you are sure they are sufficiently cool; as, by disregarding this caution, you may be compelled to swallow what is dangerously hot, or be driven to the unpardonable alternative of returning it to your plate. When eating or drinking, avoid every kind of audible testimony to the fact.


                           

A doily or, as they were originally known, a "d'Oyley." 

Finger-glasses, containing water slightly warmed and perfumed, are placed to each person at dessert. In these you may dip the tips of your fingers, wiping them afterwards on your table-napkin. If the finger-glass and d'Oyley are placed on your dessert-plate, you should immediately remove the d'Oyley to the left of your plate, and place the finger-glass upon it. By these means you leave the right for the wine-glasses.
                     

Know the shapes of the various kinds of wine-glasses commonly in use. 

Be careful to know the shapes of the various kinds of wine-glasses commonly in use, in order that you may never put forward one for another. High and narrow, and very broad and shallow glasses, are used for champagne; large, goblet-shaped glasses for burgundy and claret; ordinary wine-glasses for sherry and madeira; green glasses for hock; and somewhat large, bell-shaped glasses, for port. Port, sherry, and madeira, are decanted. Hocks and champagnes appear in their native bottles. Claret and burgundy are handed round in a claret-jug.

Coffee and liqueurs should be handed round when the dessert has been about a quarter of an hour on the table. After this, the ladies generally retire. Should no servant be present to do so, the gentleman who is nearest the door should hold it for the ladies to pass through. When the ladies leave the dining-room, the gentlemen all rise in their places, and do not resume their seats till the last lady is gone. The servants leave the room when the dessert is on the table. If you should unfortunately overturn or break anything, do not apologize for it. You can show your regret in your face, but it is not well-bred to put it into words.

Should you injure a lady's dress, apologise amply, and assist her, if possible, to remove all traces of the damage. To abstain from taking the last piece on the dish, or the last glass of wine in the decanter, only because it is the last, is highly ill-bred. It implies a fear that the vacancy cannot be supplied, and almost conveys an affront to your host.

In summing up the little duties and laws of the table, a popular author has said that--"The chief matter of consideration at the dinner-table--as, indeed, everywhere else in the life of a gentleman--is to be perfectly composed and at his ease. He speaks deliberately; he performs the most important act of the day as if he were performing the most ordinary. Yet there is no appearance of trifling or want of gravity in his manner; he maintains the dignity which is so becoming on so vital an occasion. He performs all the ceremonies, yet in the style of one who performs no ceremonies at all. He goes through all the complicated duties of the scene as if he were 'to the manner born.'" To the giver of a dinner we have but one or two remarks to offer. If he be a bachelor, he had better give his dinner at a good hotel, or have it sent in from Birch's or Kühn's. 

If a married man, he will, we presume, enter into council with his wife and his cook. In any case, however, he should always bear in mind that it is his duty to entertain his friends in the best manner that his means permit; and that this is the least he can do to recompense them for the expenditure of time and money which they incur in accepting his invitation.

"To invite a friend to dinner," says Brillat Savarin, "is to become responsible for his happiness so long as he is under your roof." Again:--"He who receives friends at his table, without having bestowed his personal supervision upon the repast placed before them, is unworthy to have friends." A dinner, to be excellent, need not consist of a great variety of dishes; but everything should be of the best, and the cookery should be perfect. That which should be cool should be cool as ice; that which should be hot should be smoking; the attendance should be rapid and noiseless; the guests well assorted; the wines of the best quality; the host attentive and courteous; the room well lighted; and the time punctual.

Every dinner should begin with soup, be followed by fish, and include some kind of game. "The soup is to the dinner," we are told by Grisnod de la Regnière, "what the portico is to a building, or the overture to an opera." To this aphorism we may be permitted to add that a chasse of cognac or curaçoa at the close of the dinner is like the epilogue at the end of a comedy.

One more quotation and we have done: "To perform faultlessly the honours of the table is one of the most difficult things in society. It might indeed he asserted without much fear of contradiction, that no man has as yet ever reached exact propriety in his office as host, or has hit the mean between exerting himself too much and too little. His great business is to put every one entirely at his ease, to gratify all his desires, and make him, in a word, absolutely contented with men and things. To accomplish this, he must have the genius of tact to perceive, and the genius of finesse to execute; ease and frankness of manner; a knowledge of the world that nothing can surprise; a calmness of temper that nothing can disturb; and a kindness of disposition that can never be exhausted. When he receives others he must be content to forget himself; he must relinquish all desire to shine, and even all attempts to please his guests by conversation, and rather do all in his power to let them please one another. 

He behaves to them without agitation, without affectation; he pays attention without an air of protection; he encourages the timid, draws out the silent, and directs conversation without sustaining it himself. He who does not do all this is wanting in his duty as host-- "he who does, is more than mortal." In conclusion, we may observe that to sit long in the dining-room after the ladies have retired is to pay a bad compliment to the hostess and her fair visitors; and that it is a still worse tribute to rejoin them with a flushed face and impaired powers of thought. A refined gentleman is always temperate. – From “Routledge’s Manual of Etiquette,” by George Routledge and Sons, c. 1860s

 🍽Etiquette Enthusiast, Maura J. Graber of The RSVP Institute of Etiquette, is the Site Editor for the Etiquipedia© Etiquette Encyclopedia

Victorian Etiquette: Basic Principles

“Courtesy is the beautiful part of morality, justice carried to the utmost, rectitude refined, magnanimity in trifles.” – Life Illustrated

I. – Manners and Morals 

Good manners and good morals are founded on the same eternal principles of right, and are only different expressions of the same great truths. Both grow out of the necessities of our existence and relations. We have individual rights based on the fact of our individual being; and we have social duties resulting from our connection, in the bonds of society, with other individuals who have similar rights. Morals and manners alike, while they justify us in asserting and maintaining our own rights, require us scrupulously to respect, in word and act, the rights of others. It is true that the former, in the common comprehension of the term, is satisfied with simple justice in all our relations, while the latter often requires something more than the strictest conscientiousness can demand--a yielding of more than half the road--an exercise of the sentiment of benevolence, as well as of equity; but the highest morality really makes the same requisition, for it includes politeness, and recognizes deeds of kindness as a duty.

II. –Rights 

In this country we need no incitements to the assertion and maintenance of our rights, whether individual or national. We are ready at all times to do battle for them either with the tongue, the pen, or the sword, as the case may require. Even women have discovered that they have rights, and he must be a bold man indeed who dares call them in question. Yes, we all, men, women, and children, have rights, and are forward enough in claiming then. Are we equally ready to respect the rights of others?

III. –Duties 

Out of rights grow duties; the first of which is to live an honest, truthful, self-loyal life, acting and speaking always and everywhere in accordance with the laws of our being, as revealed in our own physical and mental organization. It is by the light of this fact that we must look upon all social requirements, whether in dress, manners, or morals. All that is fundamental and genuine in these will be found to harmonize with universal principles, and consequently with our primary duty in reference to ourselves.

1. The Senses 

 Whenever and wherever we come in contact with our fellow-men, there arises a question of rights, and consequently of duties. We have alluded incidentally to some of them, in speaking of habits and dress. The senses of each individual have their rights, and it is your duty to respect them. The eye has a claim upon you for so much of beauty in form, color, arrangement, position, and movement as you are able to present to it. A French author has written a book, the aim of which is to show that it is the duty of a pretty woman to look pretty. It is the duty of all women, and all men too, to look and behave just as well as they can, and whoever fails in this, fails in good manners and in duty. The ear demands agreeable tones and harmonious combinations of tones--pleasant words and sweet songs. If you indulge in loud talking, in boisterous and untimely laughter, or in profane or vulgar language, or sing out of tune, you violate its rights and offend good manners. The sense of smell requires pleasant odors for its enjoyment. Fragrance is its proper element. To bring the fetid odor of unwashed feet or filthy garments, or the stench of bad tobacco or worse whisky, or the offensive scent of onions or garlics within its sphere, is an act of impoliteness. The sense of taste asks for agreeable flavors, and has a right to the best we can give in the way of palatable foods and drinks. The sense of feeling, though less cultivated and not so sensitive as the others, has its rights too, and is offended by too great coarseness, roughness, and hardness. It has a claim on us for a higher culture.

2. The Faculties 

 And if the senses have their rights, we must admit that the higher faculties and feelings of our nature are at least equally dowered in this respect. You can not trespass upon one of them without a violation of good manners. We can not go into a complete exposition of the "bill of rights" of each. You can analyze them for yourself, and learn the nature of their claims upon you. In the mean time, we will touch upon a point or two here and there.

3. Opinions 

Each person has a right to his or her opinions, and to the expression of them on proper occasions, and there is no duty more binding upon us all than the most complete and respectful toleration. The author of "The Illustrated Manners Book" truly says: "Every denial of, or interference with, the personal freedom or absolute rights of another, is a violation of good manners. He who presumes to censure me for my religious belief, or want of belief; who makes it a matter of criticism or reproach that I am a Theist or Atheist, Trinitarian or Unitarian, Catholic or Protestant, Pagan or Christian, Jew, Mohammedan, or Mormon, is guilty of rudeness and insult. If any of these modes of belief make me intolerant or intrusive, he may resent such intolerance or repel such intrusion; but the basis of all true politeness and social enjoyment is the mutual tolerance of personal rights."

4. The Sacredness of Privacy 

Here is another passage from the author just quoted which is so much to the point that we can not forbear to copy it: "One of the rights most commonly trespassed upon constituting a violent breach of good manners, is the right of privacy, or of the control of one's own person and affairs. There are places in this country where there exists scarcely the slightest recognition of this right. A man or woman bolts into your house without knocking. No room is sacred unless you lock the door, and an exclusion would be an insult. Parents intrude upon children, and children upon parents. The husband thinks he has a right to enter his wife's room, and the wife would feel injured if excluded, by night or day, from her husband's. It is said that they even open each others letters, and claim, as a right, that neither should have any secrets from the other. "It in difficult to conceive of such a state of intense barbarism in a civilized country, such a denial of the simplest and most primitive rights, such an utter absence of delicacy and good manners; and had we not been assured on good authority that such things existed, we should consider any suggestions respecting them needless and impertinent.

"Each person in a dwelling should, if possible, have a room as sacred from intrusion as the house is to the family. No child, grown to years of discretion, should be outraged by intrusion. No relation, however intimate, can justify it. So the trunks, boxes, packets, papers, and letters of every individual, locked or unlocked, sealed or unsealed, are sacred. It is ill manners even to open a book-case, or to read a written paper lying open, without permission expressed or implied. Books in an open case or on a center-table, cards in a card-case, and newspapers, are presumed to be open for examination. Be careful where you go, what you read, and what you handle, particularly in private apartments." This right to privacy extends to one's business, his personal relations, his thoughts, and his feelings. Don't intrude; and always "mind your own business," which means, by implication, that you must let other people's business alone.

5. Conformity 

 You must conform, to such an extent as not to annoy and give offense, to the customs, whether in dress or other matters, of the circle in which you move. This conformity is an implied condition in the social compact. It is a practical recognition of the right of others, and shows merely a proper regard for their opinions and feelings. If you can not sing in tune with the rest, or on the same key, remain silent. You may be right and the others wrong but that does not alter the case. Convince them, if you can, and bring them to your pitch, but never mar even a low accord. So if you can not adapt your dress and manners to the company in which you find yourself, the sooner you take your leave the better. You may and should endeavor, in a proper way, to change such customs and fashions as you may deem wrong, or injurious in their tendency, but, in the mean time, you have no right to violate them. You may choose your company, but, having chosen it, you must conform to its rules til you can change them. You are not compelled to reside in Rome; but if you choose to live there, you must "do as the Romans do." The rules which should govern your conduct, as an isolated individual, were such a thing as isolation possible in the midst of society, are modified by your relations to those around you.

This life of ours is a complex affair, and our greatest errors arise from our one-side views of it. We are sovereign individuals, and are born with certain "inalienable rights;" but we are also members of that larger individual society, and our rights can not conflict with the duties which grow out of that relation. If by means of our non-conformity we cause ourselves to be cut off, like an offending hand, or plucked out, like an offending eye, our usefulness is at once destroyed. It is related of a certain king that on a particular occasion he turned his tea into his saucer, contrary to his custom and to the etiquette of society, because two country ladies, whose hospitalities he was enjoying, did so. That king was a gentleman; and this anecdote serves to illustrate an important principle; namely, that true politeness and genuine good manners often not only permit, but absolutely demand, a violation of some of the arbitrary rules of etiquette. The highest law demands complete HARMONY in all spheres and in all relations.

IV.– Equality

In the qualified sense which no doubt Mr. Jefferson affixed to the term in his own mind, "all men are created free and equal." The "noble Oracle" himself had long before as explicitly asserted the natural equality of man. In 1739, thirty-seven years before the Declaration of Independence was penned, Lord Chesterfield wrote: "We are of the same species, and no distinction whatever is between us, except that which arises from fortune. For example, your footman and Lizette would be your equals were they as rich as you. Being poor, they are obliged to serve you. Therefore you must not add to their misfortune by insulting or ill-treating them. A good heart never reminds people of their misfortune, but endeavors to alleviate, or, if possible, to make them forget it." The writer in Life Illustrated, quoted in a previous chapter, states the case very clearly as follows: "It is in the sacredness of their rights that men are equal. The smallest injustice done to the smallest man on earth is an offense against all men; an offense which all men have a personal and equal interest in avenging. If John Smith picks my pocket, the cause in court is correctly entitled, 'The PEOPLE versus John Smith.' The whole State of New York has taken up my quarrel with John, and arrays itself against John in awful majesty; because the pockets, the interests, the rights of a man are infinitely, and therefore equally, sacred. "The conviction of this truth is the beginning and basis of the science of republican etiquette, which acknowledges no artificial distinctions. Its leading principle is, that courtesy is due to all men from all men; from the servant to the served; from the served to the servant; and from both for precisely the same reason, namely, because both are human beings and fellow-citizens!"

V.–A Remark or Two to be Remembered

We purpose, in succeeding chapters, to set forth briefly but clearly, what the actual requirements of good society are in reference to behavior. You must look at these in the light of the general principles we have already laid down. It is not for us to say how far you ought or can conform to any particular custom, usage, or rule of etiquette. We believe that even the most arbitrary and capricious of them either have or have had a reason and a meaning. In many cases, however, the reason may no longer exist, and the form be meaningless; or while it embodies what is a living truth to others, you may have outgrown it or advanced beyond it.

You have an undoubted right, politely but firmly, to decline to do what seems to you, looking upon the matter from your highest stand-point, to be clearly wrong, and it is no breach of good manners to do so; but at the same time you should avoid, as far as possible, putting yourself in positions which call for the exercise of this right. If you can not conscientiously wear a dress coat, or a stove-pipe hat, or cut your hair, or eat flesh-meat, or drink wine, you will naturally avoid, under ordinary circumstances, the circles in which non-conformity in these matters would be deemed a breach of good manners.

When it is necessary that you should mingle with people whose customs you can not follow in all points without a violation of principle, you will courteously, and with proper respect for what they probably think entirely right, fall back upon the "higher law;" but if it is a mere matter of gloved or ungloved hands, cup or saucer, fork or knife, you will certainly have the courtesy and good sense to conform to usage.

🍽️Etiquette Enthusiast, Maura J. Graber of The RSVP Institure of Etiquette, is the Site Editor for Etiquipedia© Etiquette Encyclopedia

Gilded Age Correct Personal Habits

Lady in striped dress with a hat and an umbrella, Newark, NJ, 1880s 

Dress 

“From little matters let us pass to less, And lightly touch the mysteries of dress; The outward forms the inner man reveal; We guess the pulp before we eat the peel.” —O. W. Holmes. 

I.—THE LANGUAGE OF DRESS 

Dress has its language, which is, or may be, read and understood by all. It is one of the forms in which we naturally give expression to our tastes, our constructive faculties, our reason, our feelings, our habits—in a word, to our character, as a whole. This expression is often greatly modified by the arbitrary laws of Fashion, and by circumstances of time, place, and condition, which we can not wholly control; but can hardly be entirely falsified. Even that arch tyrant, the reigning Mode, whatever it may be, leaves us little room for choice in materials, forms, and colors, and the choice we make indicates our prominent traits of character.

II.—THE USES OF DRESS

Playing croquet 

“Dress,” that admirable Art Journal the Crayon says, “has two functions—to clothe and to ornament; and while we can not lose sight of either point, we must not attribute to the one a power which belongs to the other. The essential requirement of dress is to cover and make comfortable the body, and of two forms of dress which fulfill this function equally well, that is the better which is most accordant with the laws of beauty. But fitness must in nowise be interfered with; and the garb which infringes on this law gives us pain rather than pleasure. We believe that it will be found that fitness and beauty, so far from requiring any sacrifice for combination, are found each in the highest degree where both are most fully obtained—that the fittest, most comfortable dress is that which is most graceful or becoming. Fitness is the primary demand; and the dress that appears uncomfortable is untasteful (sic).

“But in the secondary function of dress, ornamentation, there are several diverse objects to be attained—dignity, grace, vivacity, brilliancy, are qualities distinguishing different individuals, and indicating the impression they wish to make on society, and are expressed by different combinations of the elements of beauty, line, or form, and color. When the appareling of the outer being is in most complete harmony with the mental constitution, the taste is fullest.”

III.—THE ART OF DRESS 

True art adapts dress to its uses, as indicated in the foregoing extract. It is based on universal principles fundamental to all art. The art-writer already quoted says, very truly, that “Dress is always to be considered as secondary to the person.” This is a fundamental maxim in the art of costume, but is often lost sight of, and dress made obtrusive at the expense of the individuality of the wearer. A man's vest or cravat must not seem a too important part of him. Dress may heighten beauty, but it can not create it. If you are not better and more beautiful than your clothes you are, indeed, a man or a woman of straw.

The next principle to be regarded is the fitness of your costume, in its forms materials, and colors, to your person and circumstances, and to the conditions of the time, place and occasion on which it is to be worn. Fashion often compels us to violate this principle, and dress in the most absurd, incongruous, unbecoming, and uncomfortable style. A little more self-respect and independence, however, would enable us to resist many of her most preposterous enactments. But Fashion is not responsible for all the incongruities in dress with which we meet. They are often the result of bad taste and affectation.

The first demand of this law of fitness is, that your costume shall accord with your person. The young and the old, we all instinctively know, should not dress alike. Neither should the tall and the short, the dark and the light, the pale and the rosy, the grave and the gay, the tranquil and the vivacious. Each variety of form, color, and character has its appropriate style; but our space here is too limited to allow us to do more than drop a hint toward what each requires, to produce the most harmonious and effective combination. In another work, now in the course of preparation, this important subject will be treated in detail.

“In form, simplicity and long, unbroken lines give dignity, while complicated and short lines express vivacity. Curves, particularly if long and sweeping, give grace while straight lines and angles indicate power and strength. In color, unity of tint gives repose—if somber, gravity but if light and clear, then a joyous serenity—variety of tint giving vivacity, and if contrasted, brilliancy.”

Longitudinal stripes in a lady's dress make her appear taller than she really is, and are therefore appropriate for persons of short stature. Tall women, for this reason, should never wear them. Flounces are becoming to tall persons, but not to short ones. The colors worn should be determined by the complexion, and should harmonize with it. "Ladies with delicate rosy complexions bear white and blue better than dark colors, while sallow hues of complexion will not bear these colors near them, and require dark, quiet, or grave colors to improve their appearance. Yellow is the most trying and dangerous of all, and can only be worn by the rich-toned, healthy-looking brunette."

In the second place, there should be harmony between your dress and your circumstances. It should accord with your means, your house, your furniture, the place in which you reside, and the society in which you move.

Ladies in Walking Dresses; “... your costume should be suited to the time, place, and occasion on which it is to be worn.” 

Thirdly, your costume should be suited to the time, place, and occasion on which it is to be worn. That summer clothes should not be worn in winter, or winter clothes in summer, every one sees clearly enough. The law of fitness as imperatively demands that you should have one dress for the kitchen, the field, or the workshop, and another, and quite a different one, for the parlor; one for the street and another for the carriage, one for a ride on horseback and another for a ramble in the country. Long, flowing, and even trailing skirts are beautiful and appropriate in the parlor, but in the muddy streets, draggling in the filth, and embarrassing every movement of the wearer, or in the country among the bushes and briers, they lose all their beauty and grace, because no longer fitting.

The prettiest costume we have ever seen for a shopping excursion or a walk in the city, and especially for a ramble in the country, is a short dress or frock reaching to the knee, and trowsers of the common pantaloon form, but somewhat wider. Full Turkish trowsers might be worn with this dress, but are less convenient. The waist or body of the dress is made with a yoke and belt, and pretty full. The sleeves should be gathered into a band and buttoned at the wrist. A saque or a basque of a different color from the waist has a fine effect as a part of this costume. Add to it a gipsy hat and good substantial shoes or boots, and you may walk with ease, grace, and pleasure. This was the working and walking costume of the women of the North American Phalanx, and is still worn on the domain which once belonged to that Association, though the institution which gave it its origin has ceased to exist. If you reside in a place where you can adopt this as your industrial and walking costume, without too much notoriety and odium, try it. You must judge of this for yourself. 

We are telling you what is fitting, comfortable, and healthful, and therefore, in its place, beautiful, and not what it is expedient for you to wear. The time is coming when such a costume may be worn anywhere. Rational independence, good taste, and the study of art are preparing the way for the complete overthrow of arbitrary fashion. Help us to hasten the time when both women and men shall be permitted to dress as the eternal principles, harmony, and beauty dictate, and be no longer the slaves of the tailor and the dressmaker.

But without adopting any innovations liable to shock staid conservatism or puritanic prudery, you may still, in a good measure, avoid the incongruities which we are now compelled to witness, and make your costume accord with place and occupation.

In the field, garden, and workshop, gentlemen can wear nothing more comfortable and graceful than the blouse. It may be worn loose or confined by a belt. If your occupation is a very dusty one, wear overalls. In the counting-room and office, gentlemen wear frock-coats or sack coats. They need not be of very fine material, and should not be of any garish pattern. In your study or library, and about the house generally, on ordinary occasions, a handsome dressing-gown is comfortable and elegant.

A lady, while performing the morning duties of her household may wear a plain loose dress, made high in the neck, and with long sleeves fastened at the wrist. It must not look slatternly, and may be exceedingly beautiful and becoming.

In reference to ornament, “the law of dress,” to quote our artist-friend again, "is, that where you want the eye of a spectator to rest (for we all dress for show), you should concentrate your decoration, leaving the parts of the apparel to which you do not want attention called, as plain and negative as possible—not ugly, as some people, in an affectation of plainness, do (for you have no right to offend the eye of your fellow-man with any thing which is ugly), but simply negative.

IV.—MATERIALS, ETC…

Ladies in outdoor dresses, in the 1880s 

The materials of which your clothes are made should be the best that your means will allow. One generally exercises a very bad economy and worse taste in wearing low-priced and coarse materials. For your working costume, the materials should of course correspond with the usage to which they are to be subjected. They should be strong and durable, but need not therefore be either very coarse or at all ugly. As a general rule, it costs no more to dress well than ill.

A gentleman's shirts should always be fine, clean, and well-fitted. It is better to wear a coarse or threadbare coat than a disreputable shirt. The better taste and finer instincts of the ladies will require no hint in reference to their "most intimate appareling." True taste, delicacy, and refinement regards the under clothing as scrupulously as that which is exposed to view.

The coverings of the head and the feet are important and should by no means be inferior to the rest of your apparel. Shoes are better than boots, except in cases where the latter are required for the protection of the feet and ankles against water, snow, or injury from briers, brambles, and the like. Ladies' shoes for walking should be substantial enough to keep the feet dry and warm. If neatly made, and well-fitting, they need not be clumsy. Thin shoes, worn on the damp ground or pavement, have carried many a beautiful woman to her grave. If you wish to have corns and unshapely feet, wear tight shoes; they never fail to produce those results.

The fashionable fur hat, in its innumerable but always ugly forms, is, in the eye of taste, an absurd and unsightly covering for the head; and it is hardly less uncomfortable and unhealthful than ugly. The fine, soft, and more picturesque felt hats now, we are glad to say, coming more and more into vogue, are far more comfortable and healthful. A light, fine straw hat is the best for summer.

The bonnets of the ladies, in their fashionable forms, are only a little less ugly and unbecoming than the fur hats of the gentlemen. A broad-brimmed or gipsy hat is far more becoming to most women than the common bonnet. We hope to live to see both “stove-pipe hats” and “sugar-scoop bonnets” abolished; but, in the mean time let those wear them who must.

V.—MRS. MANNERS ON DRESS 

“Good taste is indispensable in dress, but that, united to neatness, is all that is necessary—that is the fabled cestus of Venus which gave beauty to its wearer.”

Mrs. Manners, the highest authority we can possibly quote in such matters, has the following hints to girls, which we can not deny ourselves the pleasure of copying, though they may seem, in part, a repetition of remarks already made:

“Good taste is indispensable in dress, but that, united to neatness, is all that is necessary—that is the fabled cestus of Venus which gave beauty to its wearer. Good taste involves suitable fabrics—a neat and becoming 'fitting' to her figure—colors suited to her complexion, and a simple and unaffected manner of wearing one's clothes. A worsted dress in a warm day, or a white one in a cold day, or a light, thin one in a windy day, are all in bad taste. Very fine or very delicate dresses worn in the street, or very highly ornamented clothes worn to church or to shop in, are in bad taste. Very long dresses worn in muddy or dusty weather, even if long dresses are the fashion, are still in bad taste.

“Deep and bright-colored gloves are always in bad taste; very few persons are careful enough in selecting gloves. Light shoes and dark dresses, white stockings and dark dresses, dark stockings and light dresses, are not indicative of good taste. A girl with neatly and properly dressed feet, with neat, well-fitting gloves, smoothly arranged hair, and a clean, well-made dress, who walks well, and speaks well, and, above all, acts politely and kindly, is a lady, and no wealth is required here. Fine clothes and fine airs are abashed before such propriety and good taste. Thus the poorest may be so attired as to appear as lady-like as the wealthiest; nothing is more vulgar than the idea that money makes a lady, or that fine clothes can do it.”

VI.—WEARING THE HAIR AND BEARD

Gentleman with moustache wearing a hat, NY in 1889

The hair and beard, in one of their aspects, belong to the dress. In reference to the style of wearing them, consult the general principles of taste. A man to whom nature has given a handsome beard, deforms himself sadly by shaving—at least, that is our opinion; and on this point fashion and good taste agree. The full beard is now more common than the shaven face in all our large cities.

Victorian hairstyles and bonnets 

In the dressing of the hair there is room for the display of a great deal of taste and judgment. The style should vary with the different forms of face. Lardner's “Young Ladies' Manual” has the following hints to the gentler sex. Gentlemen can modify them to suit their case:

After a few experiments, a lady may very easily decide what mode of dressing her hair, and what head-dress renders her face most attractive.

Ringlets hanging about the forehead suit almost every one. On the other hand, the fashion of putting the hair smoothly, and drawing it back on either side, is becoming to few; it has a look of vanity instead of simplicity: the face must do every thing for it, which is asking too much, especially as hair, in its pure state, is the ornament intended for it by nature. Hair is to the human aspect what foliage is to the landscape.

Light hair is generally most becoming when curled. For a round face, the curls should be made in short, half ringlets, reaching a little below the ears. For an oval face, long and thick ringlets are suitable; but if the face be thin and sharp, the ringlets should be light, and not too long, nor too many in number.

When dark hair is curled, the ringlets should never fall in heavy masses upon the shoulders. Open braids are very beautiful when made of dark hair; they are also becoming to light-haired persons. A simple and graceful mode of arranging the hair is to fold the front locks behind the ears, permitting the ends to fall in a couple of ringlets on either side behind.

Another beautiful mode of dressing the hair, and one very appropriate in damp weather, when it will keep in curl, is to loop up the ringlets with small hair-pins on either side of the face and behind the ears, and pass a light band of braided hair over them. 

Persons with very long, narrow heads may wear the hair knotted very low at the back of the neck. If the head be long, but not very narrow, the back hair may be drawn to one side, braided in a thick braid, and wound around the head. When the head is round, the hair should be formed in a braid in the middle of the back of the head. If the braid be made to resemble a basket, and a few curls permitted to fall from within it, the shape of the head is much improved. 

VII.—ART VS. FASHION 

Fine gentleman greeting a lady on the street 

Observe that we have been laying down some of the maxims deduced from the principles of art and taste, in their application to dress, and not promulgating the edicts of Fashion. If there is a lack of harmony on some points, between the two, it is not our fault. We have endeavored to give you some useful hints in reference to the beautiful and the fitting in costume, based on a higher law than the enactments of the fashion-makers. You must judge for yourself how far you can make the latter bend to the former. We have been talking of dress as an individual matter. In future chapters we shall have occasion to refer to it in its relation to the usages of society.


VIII.—SIGNS OF “THE GOOD TIME COMING.” 
N. P. Willis, in the Home Journal, writing on the dress-reform agitation, thus closes his disquisition:

“We repeat, that we see signs which look to us as if the present excitement as to one fashion were turning into a universal inquiry as to the sense or propriety of any fashion at all. When the subject shall have been fully discussed, and public attention fully awakened, common sense will probably take the direction of the matter, and opinion will settle in some shape which, at least, may reject former excesses and absurdities. 

“Some moderate similarity of dress is doubtless necessary, and there are proper times and places for long dresses and short dresses. These and other points the ladies are likely to come to new decisions about. While they consult health, cleanliness, and convenience, however, we venture to express a hope that they will get rid of the present slavish uniformity—that what is becoming to each may be worn without fear of unfashionableness, and that in this way we may see every woman dressed somewhat differently and to her own best advantage, and the proportion of beauty largely increased, as it would, thereby, most assuredly be.”

FOOTNOTE: “Hints toward Physical Perfection; or, How to Acquire and Retain Beauty, Grace, and Strength, and Secure Long Life and Perpetual Youth.” 

From the book “How To Behave: A Pocket Manual Of Republican Etiquette, And Guide To Correct Personal Habits” 

by Samuel R Wells, 1887

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