“But Why All This Constant Change and Varying of the Fashions?” Or: Ladies Fashions in 1877:

As an addendum to last week’s ladies and fashion posts, I have added this article that I found in the periodical The Leisure Hour from June 1877. It concerns similar fashion related themes, though this article is sixteen years older than those posted last week concerning ladies fashions.

Interestingly, this article also mentions a man I have blogged about a few weeks ago, fashion pioneer Charles Worth, who, according to this article, worked at Jays Mourning Warehouse in London. (Though this is the only place I have seen that information.) 

The article deals chiefly with the way fashion in London worked, and why the ever changing tide of fashion was (and, I suppose therefore, is) a good thing.

Ladies Fashions

Changes of fashion in dress are proverbially frequent and great. My first recollection of my own mother is that of a pretty, delicately made young lady about the middle height, with black eyes, ivory complexion, and dark glossy hair, arranged on the top of her head in five or seven immense upright loops or bows, whilst over the forehead, it was arranged in French curls.

She wore a myrtle green brocaded silk dress, short enough to show the ankle and foot enclosed in white silken hose and black satin shoe. The body was cut low in the neck, but not nearly so low as evening dresses are now worn. Round the throat was a neckerchief of black net, covered with flowers worked in silk with a tambour needle, tied with studied negligence.

The huge leg-of-mutton sleeves were well stiffened out at the shoulders and tight to the wrists, where, one above another, two or three tight gold bracelets were clasped.

It needed a pretty woman to look well in such a costume, and hose were hard times for the very tall or the very stout. But even this costume was a great improvement on the dress worn some years before, specimens of which a certain old wardrobe contained, and which were sometimes lent us to play at “dressing up” and wearing “trains.” Those horrible dresses had the lowest of low bodies and the shortest of round waists. The worst of them – when the fashion had reached its height, I suppose – measured only a few inches from the neck to the waist, and the bust was fitted with the minuteness of a skin. I am sure the body did not exceed three inches in depth. The sleeves were equally short, and puffed, so as to stand out each side of the shoulders like wings. The skirts were short and gored tight to the form, measuring at the widest part barely three yards round.

The only merit they possessed was economy of material, for I remember hearing that my mamma and grandmamma each had a present of a china crepe shawl from abroad, which was either a shawl or a dress-piece., and mamma’s was made up into one of the very dresses I can remember as contained in the old wardrobe.

It was quite plain, except a row of small tabs round the neck, made of white taffetas by way of a berthe, and a very full, pinked-out rouche round the extreme edge of the skirt.

It is said that fashion always repeats itself after a lapse of years. Let us sincerely hope this very “undress” style may never come in again. A narrow scarf and long gloves were considered sufficient additions for walking abroad in mild weather. Addison relates an amusing story of his astonishment in visiting a remote country village to find the rural ladies attired in the very latest London fashions, till, on enquiring , he learnt that they had not changed their style of garments for ten years, and that the new “mode” was the revival of an old one. Apropos of this, I look up at my great-grandmother’s portrait. There she sits, good lady, a beauty in her days, in a damask robe of the new “peacock blue,” with square-cut body and Dolly Varden sleeves with their white frills, and brown hair dressed off the face, for all the world like a young lady of the present day, save for a peak to the stomacher.

Ladies’ attire has never been so artistically arranged or so generally becoming in any age as at the present day, and the ill-favoured never before had such a good time of it. She must be plain indeed who looks so now. Neither is our present style of dress costly. The universal “polonaise” tunic takes but little material, and the fashion of making the gown, or “costume,” as it is the order of the day to call it, of two materials, gives scope for doing up old dresses and utilising remnants.

Some readers may ask why the designs for ladies clothing are prettier at the present time than of yore.

Everyone knows that the fashions in dress emanate from the sister capital, the gay metropolis of “La belle France.” Worth, the great man-milliner, if he has to answer the grievous charge of tempting to ruinous extravagance, has yet, certainly inaugurated the reign of improved taste. Racking his own brains, and employing the most valuable assistance regardless of cost, to design shapes and forms in garments that shall enhance beauty and conceal its absence as much as possible, and at the same time follow out the laws of good taste, every successive effort has achieved a fresh success. The impetus once given, others have joined in the contest.

In France artists of some note are not too proud to draw the design of a garment or the pattern to be embroidered on it, and the manufacturers of articles of dress for ladies are not niggardly in making the reward worthy of their acceptance. Besides this, there are persons who obtain a good living by merely designing dresses. Amongst others, I could mention a certain Frenchman who announces his annual visit to London in a fashionable journal about February with a stock of bijouterie, false hair, and “designs for ladies’ dresses.” These designs are drawn and coloured by hand on tinted cardboard , and fetch from one to five guineas each.

He will only show two – or, at the outside, three – to a customer, and if a purchase is not made, he returns them to his portfolio, refusing to show any others, with a polite, but final “Then I have nothing which will suit you.”

But if purchased, one or two more will be brought out to tempt the customer to further outlay. These designs are most frequently sold to West end shops and high-class milliners.

But our own English people are not lax in inventing designs. Nay, it must not be forgotten that the now celebrated Worth, the guide of Parisian fashion, is an Englishman, once a member of the staff of assistants at a well known mourning warehouse in Regent Street, where they have at the present time head clerks who are employed constantly in designing new robes and mantles, and who draw well.

Some of our readers will say “But why all this constant change and varying of the fashions? Why cannot we establish one good style and keep to it? Why need women waste their money in constantly shifting the cut and custom of their garb?”

Here are three questions which need three answers.

Why this constant change?

But for this change manufacturers would grow stagnant, commerce would flag, and factory hands and needleworkers starve. Had not each woman of our community better be taxed a little in a frequent change of clothes, than half our women – and men and children too – starve? I ask those well meaning people who propose to save in clothes and give in charity, whether it is better to pay wages to working folk, or first to make, and then to feed, a race of paupers? Do not suppose that I am advocating or apologising for undue extravagance. The thrifty woman knows how to cut and turn her own and her children’s raiment. The honest woman will not spend more than she can afford; and why should the rich woman not disburse a little of her surplus wealth, and “make good for trade”?

I have yet another plea for fashion cleanliness and health. It is not goof for health to wear garments too long a time. They all imbibe, not only the impurity of the atmosphere, but some of the emanations of the body. We change our linen frequently, but the more thrifty among us make our dresses, mantles and such coloured garments as are dark and long-wearing, last a considerable time. It is well that we should not make them last too long. As long as they do not look shabby, we are tempted to overlook the question of health. Indeed, I believe it has never occurred to some minds. The cheerfulness a new garment induces is referred altogether to vanity, and the airy freshness imparted by cleanliness forgotten. So much for the part taken by purchasers and wearers of new dresses.

But the vendors of clothing and the dressmakers combine to make the changes of fashion as frequent as possible that their own trades may flourish. And in this conspiracy the ladies of rank join them. It is always the desire of women of position to wear a different style of dress from that of the populace, and this can only be achieved in these days of progress and equality by a constant succession of changes. As soon as my Lady Duchess appears in a new style, Mrs. Citizen, with the assistance of her mercer’s manufacturer, who has also been on the qui vive, has a clumsy copy of it.

No sooner is Mrs. Citizen seen in her new splendour than Betty, through the medium of a maker for the million, equally alert, is arrayed in a grotesque caricature of the thing. When I speak of a clumsy copy and grotesque caricature, I do so in no invidious spirit, with no absurd prejudice of aristocracy. It is a literal fact. The original design is almost always graceful, however peculiar it may be. The manufacturer and dressmaker of inferior capacity who copy it in inferior, and perhaps, unsuitable materials, too scantily or too amply cut, render an exaggerated caricature.

The ordinary female pedestrians of the lower-middle classes represent almost always a burlesque of the original fashion; and so as Dame Fashion gets reproached when Bad Taste should have all the blame.

“This is all very well,” says a crusty old gentleman at my elbow; “very well for an excuse. But look at your ugly fashion-plates; look at your journals for women-folk; what can you say in extenuation of them?” I reply, “There are fashion-plates and fashion-plates. You know nothing about it. In the first place, the newest and most elegant fashions are never published in fashion-plates. Our English aristocratic ladies have their dresses made by modes not yet published, and the French are in advance of them. It is not till a mode is going out of vogue with the crème de la crème in Paris that it is drawn and printed in French journals. We English are often a year behind the French, and if we have from a good source all their newest-printed fashion-plates, we should find such dresses in vogue in England just twelve months later. All our best coloured fashion-plates come from Paris, and have the name of the English journal that issues them printed on them after their arrival, or sometimes by the Parisian houses to order.

As for the smudgy, uncoloured prints we sometimes see, the best of them are stereotypes or casts from French woodcuts, badly printed. Some of the French originals of what look but ugly pictures as they are issued in England, are very beautiful and delicate in execution and graceful in appearance. The blottiness of the print seems actually to abolish the grace of the design.

But the inferior pictures of fashion, both coloured and black-and-white, are imported from Germany. The German fashions are for the most part clumsy copies from Parisian designs, and are often ugly and inelegant, as well as coarsely executed and ill-drawn. They are also much cheaper.

Many attempts have been made from time to time to produce fashion illustrations for ladies’ journals in this country, but have always failed, especially in the colouring, the class of persons employed for that purpose not possessing the same good taste as our foreign neighbours.

                                 G. C. C.

Victorian Ladies Who Lunch, Or: Luncheaon Places and Tea Rooms for Ladies:

More from the 1893 edition of the handbook: “London of Today: An Illustrated Book for This Season, and for All Seasons” Which was also my source of inspiration for the previous post about ladies shops. After thumbing through a further few chapters, I came to a chapter entitled;

 “Luncheon Places and tea Rooms for Ladies”

Thinking that it may fit in with the post on the subject of ladies shopping, I read on. The Author, one Charles Eyre Pascoe does come across as slightly chauvinistic in his writing, and one can quite easily imagine him being the loud, round fellow with the biggest cigar and the glass that never empties at the party, guffawing at every joke with gusto. I have never seen a picture of him, but I imagine him to resemble General Melchett as played by Stephen Fry in Blackadder goes Forth.

Please enjoy the article. All establishments mentioned are, again in bold.

Luncheon Places and tea Rooms for Ladies

The business of public refreshment for ladies shows some signs of merging itself in one of national interest. Common-place as it may at first sight appear, it is one, nevertheless indicating gravity. Women are proposing, and very properly, to have their say in this matter. It is no longer the trivial one, very easily comprehended, of “rubbing shoulders” with a parcel of male persons in public restaurants. It is the far weightier one, less readily understood, of women’s emancipation of which we are told it is quite too idle to talk, til “woman” herself is prepared to give up buns and tea!

Truly, buns and tea suggest no food convenient for me; nor indeed any very inviting variety to the English national chop, albeit served from a silver grill along with vegetables, bread and cheese.

But let that pass.

The Daily News – and the Daily News is of honourable report – says that a want of dignity and character has been discovered in the hitherto (as most of us had supposed) comforting sight of

“A lot of women seated at marble-topped tables, munching dyspepsia-breeding cake, and sipping unwholesome tea from thick white bowls conventionally known as tea-cups.”

The cup of tea, and stodgy bun, or pallid scone (with due modicum as may be supposed of creamless butter), are held to correspond to the male persons’ whiskey-and-soda; and are as concretely ruinous of digestion as “coker-nut chips” and “chewing-gum.”

“Contrast” says a local reforming lady who raises the interesting larger question of women’s diet; “contrast the dinner of the average well-to-do maiden lady, with that of the equivalent bachelor.”

Ay, contrast.

We are for showing the how, the when, and the whereabouts in London to contrast, if it so please the lady. By Epicurus! What a tale might we unfold. What lovely “set-scenes” at separate tables lit by the electric light, might we discover here and there, graced by the presence of bachelors old and young did the humour fit, and our purse respond, or the lady herself proffer her own sweet aid in the interesting adventure.

But let us seek no further contrast than that which the married man’s London luncheon presents – the city luncheon for example. Let us for convenience sake peep into “Pimms” in the Poultry at the luncheon hour, and note the avidity with which the juicy, but costly Whitstable “native-oyster” is made away with; the refreshing male-lobster devoured, the appetising salad of crab enjoyed, the havoc made upon game pie, soused salmon, cold birds of various kinds, hams of Yorkshire curing, sandwiches of caviare, and so on. Contrast that kind of meal, excellent and varied in every degree, flanked by, let’s say, “fiz,” clarets, hocks, and ales, with that other kind of meal generally offered the “married woman” and her flavoured freer sister, luncheon-hunting, after shopping, in London.

Let us see what is already provided in London in the way of restaurants generally frequented by ladies. There are the chop-places and dining-rooms at the railway stations to begin with. The Italian restaurants, some good, some bad, everywhere to be seen in London are largely patronised, because they are cheap. Herein we mark the true unselfishness of woman who eats her own scant “chop” there, that her husband may commemorate her birthday at the Café Royal. St. James’ Hall, Piccadilly, and its near neighbour, the Criterion, are convenient luncheon resorts, after “doing” the art galleries. “Gatti’s,” in the Strand, provides a not-too-dear meal. Then there is “The Grand’s” grill-room (downstairs) opposite Charing Cross Post Office, neat, clean, comfortable, and not too expensive.

In Regent Street are several confectionary shops, if you like that sort of thing, and a small, but well-managed restaurant, named “The Parisian” on the east side, almost fronting Conduit Street. It displays a sufficiently varied daily bill of fare, and its charges are considerably less than those of more pretentious neighbouring restaurants.

With ladies shopping, Regent Street way, The Parisian appears to be a favourite midday place of refreshment. “The Burlington” (west side) is also a ladies’ luncheon and dining place, best resorted to perhaps when a little party of four is pre-arranged. Verrey’s (corner of Hanover Street) can serve the neatest little French dejeuner if you don’t mind a matter of five (or more) shillings. The same may be said of the Café Royal, upstairs, where ladies go. And if you have no further use for a golden piece, there is The Savoy restaurant considered about the best of its class in London. In addition to all these, The Metropole series of London hotels advertise a table d’hote luncheon for 3s 6d.

If “Tea-in-town” has any attractions, the opportunity of gratifying an appetite for that generally refreshing afternoon stimulant is within reach almost everywhere. The ladies shops have taken to serving it: Liberty (in regent Street) among the number. All “the stores” (Army and Navy, Civil Service, and the rest) follow the vogue in this respect. The Italian restaurateurs have turned their attention to tea; but one must have a strong stomach to avail of their samples. About the most pernicious beverage ever concocted is what we may define as urn-tea-stewed.

And the worst samples of that are chiefly retailed at railway refreshment rooms and exhibition places.

The refreshment rooms of Messrs J. & B. Stevenson, bakers and confectioners, generally spacious, clean, and well-supervised – to be met with in many of the leading London thoroughfares – are convenient for the midday tea. You will find there retailed well-made bread, rolls, cakes, pastries, and so on, in large variety, and “snacks” of this, that, and the other comestible at very moderate prices. Moreover, you may have your quite separate tea pot of “fresh-made tea” and your marble-topped table all to yourself, if you wish to meditate alone. The cost of roll, butter, and tea at these places will not exceed 6d. A good example of Stevenson’s establishments may be found on the south side of Ludgate Hill. “A.B.C” or Aerated Bread Shops, are to be found all over London.

The Vienna Café Restaurants may be commended as supplying exceptionally good coffee. Buszards (197,199 Oxford Street), Fuller’s American Confectionary Depots, are among the favourite places for ices; and if you are Bond Street way, at the south-west corner (Piccadilly end), you will find “Stewart’s,” originally established here as a “baker’s shop,” two centuries since, when Piccadilly was in its babyhood. It has a comfortable and pretty luncheon-room, visited by many ladies of the fashionable quarter at all seasons of the year, and also much in favour with Americans tired of sight-seeing, and doing the galleries, and “just longing for a cup of tea.”

In Regent Street (No 106) near Glasshouse Street, are the dining and tea-rooms of “Bonthron’s,” well known for many years as a West-end bakery and confectionary establishment. This is a firm dealing in sundry specialities, among which, it may interest some to know, gluten bread and biscuits have a deserved reputation throughout England. A convenient place of rest and refreshment for ladies is this same “Bonthron’s.”

Perhaps, ladies, your gentleman friend could treat you to a scant chop to commemorate your birthday this year…

'Who is it That Does Dictate the Fashions?' Or: Some Notes on Ladies Shops

A recent Victorian Book acquisition of mine is the 1893 edition of the handbook:  “London of Today: An Illustrated Book for This Season, and for All Seasons” Which, as well as containing lots and lots of brilliant Victorian advertisements, is essentially a guidebook for the socially aware denizen or visitor to London. It offers advice on the best of theatre, opera, clubs, restaurants, attractions and shops, as well as the events of the season, and even suggestions for things to do on Sundays in London. (When, in the nineteenth century there was virtually nothing to do.)

I was delighted to find a few chapters concerning fashion, and decided to make fashion this week’s theme.

The chapter I have chosen is extremely long, so I have not reproduced it all, but selected a section from the beginning. Establishments mentioned are in bold.

Some Notes on Ladies Shops

The Quarterly Review, least flippant of all periodicals circulating in London today, condescended a few months since to devote a very learned article to the consideration of the subject of Women’s and men’s costume.

The writer founded his paper on a recently published work – originally, of course, from the French; for the French alone among nations devote time, thought and money to the writing and publishing of such books – entitled “Ten Centuries of Toilette.”

“The question of costume,” said the Quarterly, “when treated not as gossip, not as illustrating only the caprice of various times, is full of interest and instruction.”

Having, at this very moment of writing, a very bulky volume in our possession, some five-hundred pages more, or less 8vo size, full of woodcuts, entitled the “Illustrated Book of Costume,” which volume we have from time to time carefully studied, we make bold to declare our entire agreement with aforesaid paper in the Quarterly Review.

The subject is full of interest and instruction, when discussed as the writer says. But it is scarcely less so when it is regarded as mere gossip; gossip of the moment, wafted from the boudoir, the ball-room, the drawing room, club, “the Park,” “the turf,” the moors, the yachtman’s rendezvous on the Solent, and last not least from the sacred inner room of the tailor, the man-milliner, the dress-maker, the fashionable purveyor of costumes, mantles, and lingerie – of those, in a word, who dictate the fashions.

 Who is it that does dictate the fashions? Whence do they originate? I always like a few quiet minutes for pondering that deeply-interesting problem. Who is it that issues the summary decree, “it shall be ‘Frock-coats in London this year;” and behold, it is ‘Frock-coats’;

and who’s the personage that says “all women shall appear hump-backed and angular this season”; and behold all women, from a peeress to a lady’s-maid, are hump-backed and angular?

Moreover, whence emanate the innumerable fashion plates – simpering ladies of the doll-face kind, straight-limbed and tall – monthly and weekly published in the several journals devoted to the instruction and entertainment of women?

I fancy I can tell whence some few of these fashion-plates, at all events, emanate. They find their beginnings in a lady friend’s sketch-book, an artist friend, whose occasional duty is to seat herself in the stalls of a London theatre, at the first performance of a new play, and to make pencil-sketches of any striking and original lady’s costume that may take her fancy. The rough outline is later elaborated in the studio in pen and ink, and presently appears in the columns of a journal circulating among the fair sex. If the fashion “catches on,” as the vulgar saying is, a “lovely-new-dress-my-dear,” sooner or later, becomes the talk of Bayswater drawing rooms. Then Brixton copies it, then Clapham, then Peckham; and by that time the fashion is dead – played out.

When the belles of Peckham get hold of a new dress, it may be considered as good as done for as regards London.

In Mayfair and Belgravia, fashions do not originate in this haphazard way. A lady of degree goes to her dressmaker in Bond, Dover, or regent Streets. “Madame” (or “Sir”) we may suppose her saying, “I want a dress absolutely original. No one is to have its counterpart, please understand that. It is to be designed exclusively for me.” The material is to be of silk (or whatever may be decided on), and made and trimmed in such or such a style – for the Queen’s drawing room, the ballroom, the dinner or garden party, the lawn at Ascot, what not.

No haggling as to price takes place. But the costume, dress, gown or whatever it may be, must be “original,” designed exclusively for the customer. Once she has made her appearance in it in public, the “copyright” lapses, so to say. The dress, however, has served its purpose. A full, and particular description of it, with the name of the wearer appended, duly appears in the ladies journals.

In some such way as this, a new fashion is created, and the lady whose enterprise has paved the way has the satisfaction of knowing that henceforth she may claim the distinction of ranking among so-called “Leaders of Fashion.”

London being the centre of the world’s civilization, in which, as it is needless to remark, Fashion plays an important part, its Temples are very freely distributed throughout its area. Regent Street, Bond Street and Piccadilly are almost wholly given over to them; Oxford Street will be found to comprise not a few; and in most of the thoroughfares west-ward, the most conspicuous and attractive buildings are those where ladies congregate.

In Brief, the Shops for Ladies comprise no inconsiderable part of the shops in London; and if you wish to see the best of these, and the latest novelties direct from paris, go into regent Street, Bond Street, Piccadilly and Oxford Street. Go to such establishments as Messrs. Lewis & Allenby’s, in Regent Street, or Messrs. Redmayne’s, or Russel & Allen’s in Bond Street, or Messrs. Marshall & Snelgrove’s, in Oxford Street, or Messrs Debenham & Freebody’s, in Wigmore Street. A mere glance at the windows of these several establishments will suffice to assure you of the wealth of beautiful things to be found within, selected with infinite taste and care from the first factories in world: silks, satins, velvets, brocades, laces, embroideries, ribbons, flowers, shawls, etc, etc.

Lewis & Allenby (Conduit Street and Regent Street) are among the oldest established Silk Mercers of London whose reputation has run for at least fifty years.

At the western end of Conduit Street, having adjoining premises in Bond Street, the house of Redmayne & Co. may be found, likewise long and favourably known to the grand dames of the grand world. Here you may inspect all the novelties in the shape of costumes, ball, dinner, and bridesmaids’ gowns, mantles, velvets, satins, lace etc, and all other necessary complements of ladies attire.

The shop of Russell & Allen is not far away. Messrs. Marshall & Snelgrove, of Oxford Street, are another firm of first-rate repute.

As indeed, are Debenham & Freebody, of Wigmore Street, not far westward from the Langham Hotel. This is one of the most extensive establishments of its class in West-end London, not merely at retail, but wholesale; designing the mode, and manufacturing the thing designed as well. It transacts much business with personages of the “upper ten”; and a lady could hardly go to a place in London more sure of affording her the opportunity of studying the latest novelties in the way of fashions and styles of dress, whether emanating direct from Paris, or accepted as the prevailing mode in London.

Not far from Debenham’s, at No. 43 Wigmore Street, is Donegal House, the depot for Irish Industries, supervised by Mrs. Ernest Hart. It makes a speciality of Irish homespuns, poplins, hosiery, lace, napery and household linen, handkerchiefs, embroideries; and is competent to undertake the best class of work in the way of trousseaux, layettes, and ladies’ outfits for India and the Colonies. This establishment has earned quite a reputation for Irish linen-goods.

As likewise has the firm of Walpole Brothers, of 89, New Bond Street, in the manufacture of Cambrics and Damasks, Linens and such like articles of the household. They are well known as manufacturers in Belfast, with a branch house in Dublin. At either establishment you may purchase anything in the shape of Irish linens, cambric handkerchiefs, etc, of the best quality.

There are many places in London where ready and courteous attention will be found for the value of the contents of the little inner-pocket of a purse. There is Shoolbred’s, for example, in Tottenham Court Road, one of the most popular of the general retail stores of London; for mercery, drapery, millinery, dressmaking, furnishing, provisions. The premises are ever increasing, and fine statuary, old oak, and all the requirements of household decoration, are to be bought here.

There are Woolland Bros., and Harvey, Nichols, & Co. of Knightsbridge; Gorringe, of Buckingham Palace Road; Wallis & Co., of Holborn Circus; Tarn, of Newington Causeway; and of course, Whiteley, of Westbourne Grove, the principal attraction of whose establishment is its vastness.

For the privilege of moving about in this vast emporium of retail commerce, ladies will journey from the uttermost ends of London.

In High Street, Kensington, Barker; Derry & Toms; and Seaman and Little cater in the most enterprising way for the wants of society folk.

North of Hyde Park, on the east side of the Edgware Road (Nos. 150-153), a short distance from the familiar Marble Arch is the large retail establishment of Messrs. Garrould, arranged on the plan of Schoolbred’s and similar places, where every thing may be purchased in the way of ladies’ dress, millinery, silks, satins, lingerie, hosiery, bonnets, cloaks, jackets, boots, etc. and every conceivable thing for the household in the shape of furniture, china, bric-a-brac, and so forth, and withal at an outlay more moderate than commonly rules at the west-end of town.

The leading authority on Ladies’ Mourning in London is Jays, at the top of Regent Street. This is not a particularly inviting subject to comment upon. Nevertheless, let it be noted that for all the various articles of ladies’ attire comprised within the term, Jay’s exhibits all things necessary; whether in silks, satins or woollen-stuffs; whole-mourning, half-mourning, or mere complimentary-mourning; Paris or London made; robes, gowns, dresses, mantles, jackets, what-not; inclusive, of course, of crapes, ribbons, and gloves.

Beyond the Door; or “The Homes of the Victorians”: Part Three: The Lady of the House

This is the third and final part of this weeks peek into the homes of our Victorian upper class ancestors, and having already looked at the rooms, the servants and how the homes were lit, we finish by examining the house-proud woman who dwells within:


The lady of the house would fill her days with numerous little hobbies, particularly embroidery and needlework, knitting and crocheting. Painting was also popular, with glass painting, china painting and shell painting being hobbies, as well as bead work, such as making mosaics using coloured beads set in a type of cement, napkin folding, arranging family photographs, drawings and cartes de visite.

The other popular past-time of the lady of the house was receiving and visiting callers. These visits, or calls, happened in two ways; either:

The caller knocked on the door and asked the maid or servant if the lady of the house were home, and left a card if she was not.

Or:

The caller knocked on the door and simply handed the servant a card which would be addressed to the lady of the house, and have the caller’s name on, without attempting to visit.

These calls had to be returned within a week, or at most, ten days. If the caller left a card, then the lady would return a card, likewise, if the caller visited, then a return visit was obligatory.

With all these visits going on, ladies had very busy social lives and would keep a visiting book in the morning room. In the visiting book, she would note the names of callers, when they had called or left a card, and when the visit or card was due to be returned. The keeping of a book ensured that nobody was overlooked who had visited.

Ladies would have specific days when they were “at home” to receive visitors, and all her friends would note this day in their books. Some ladies could receive up to nine visitors a day. Having an “at home” day meant that callers were not continually disappointed by the lady being out, or that the lady was not inconvenienced by a caller at an inappropriate time.

Calling was essential in certain situations. Those situations include;

• After an evening of entertainment such as a dinner party.
• If there was an illness in the house
• After a death

At homes of the ill, or where a death had occurred, it was correct to leave a card, but not calling at all was the height of rudeness and quite unforgivable.

Amongst all this socialising, a lady was also expected to bear her husband children, although the children themselves would be looked after by nurses or nannies and only given to the mother at bed times and any other significant occasions throughout childhood such as birthdays &c. The lady would have fairly little to do with actually bringing up her child. In fact, she had little to do around the house at all, the servants kept the house running whilst the lady supervised, and if there were a dinner party, the lady would do no more than decide what food to put on the menu and arrange the seating plan.

This left her free to fill her day with the hobbies we have mentioned, and receiving her callers, and of course, shopping.

Ladies of the upper classes would have very full wardrobes, as they could undergo up to six clothing changes a day, with a different outfit being worn for different duties:

For breakfast: A floral and light dressing gown

For shopping: A simple tailor made costume

For kitchen operations: A workaday dress and pinafore of overall

For paying / receiving calls: The best dress in the wardrobe to convey a prosperous appearance.

For early evening: A loose and comfortable tea-gown

For evening: A dinner dress.

Along with these, there were also accessories. All women, whether rich or poor wore shawls, upper class women would also not leave the house without a fine bonnet, and an umbrella just in case.

  

Looking after children in the 19^th century was a bit of a minefield as seemingly harmless illnesses and niggles in children could become fatal. Diptheria was often mistaken for croup, with the treatment for croup at the time being drops (up to 24 sometimes) of Ipec (Ipecacuanha – a powdered root used as an emetic, causing vomiting to supposedly expel illnesses) wine and calomel powders (calomel was made of mercury chloride and was also a purgative) this treatment would do little to cure diphtheria.

By the age of five, 40 out of fifty children had either smallpox, measles, scarlet fever, diphtheria, whooping cough, typhus or enteric fever, all of which could be fatal.