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Showing posts with label Belinda. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Belinda. Show all posts

Monday, 6 September 2021

Regency dining etiquette - a Regency History guide

A banquet at the Royal Pavilion, Brighton from the coloured lithograph by J Nash in Life in Regency and Early Victorian Times by EB Chancellor (1926)
A banquet at the Royal Pavilion, Brighton from the coloured
lithograph by J Nash in Life in Regency and
Early Victorian Times
by EB Chancellor (1926)
When I’m writing a scene set at a Regency dinner party, I often find myself asking questions about how they would have done things. As I strive for historical accuracy in what I write, I’ve tried to develop an understanding of the etiquette observed at the time. I have looked at books on etiquette, contemporary novels, letters and journals to try and establish some rules. As with all things historical, they are more guidelines than a strict code of behaviour, as no doubt there was variation as to when or even if these rules were applied, across time, class and location.
 

Did Regency people gather in the drawing room before dinner?

In Trusler’s A System of Etiquette (1804), he wrote:

When invited to dinner, make a point of always being there in proper time, not to make the company wait; fifteen minutes at least before the appointed hour, and to prevent mistakes, see that your watch goes right, and make a proper allowance for the time in going. A superior indeed, will not wait your coming beyond the time; and if you enter after the company is seated, you are a general disturber.

He continued:

On your entering the room where the company is, address yourself first to the lady of the house, next to the master, and after, to the rest of the company you are introduced to, by a respectful bow to each.1

As he then proceeded to give instructions about walking into the room where dinner is served, this suggests it was expected that the company would gather before going into the dining room.

The Pocket Book of Etiquette (1837) states that this usually took place in the drawing room:

On arriving at the house of the inviter, you will be shown into the room in which the party are assembling (ordinarily the drawing room); here, of course, you will be presented.2

This would seem to be borne out in Jane Austen’s novels. In Mansfield Park, she wrote:

Thus much was settled before Edmund, who had been out all the morning, knew anything of the matter; but when he entered the drawing-room before dinner, the buzz of discussion was high between Tom, Maria, and Mr Yates.3

Dining room, Felbrigg Hall (2019)
Dining room, Felbrigg Hall (2019)
Did they use a dinner bell or gong?

I have not, as yet, come across any contemporary reference to a dinner gong, but Maria Edgeworth mentions a dinner bell in her novel Belinda (1801):

Before Belinda had answered these questions to her satisfaction, the dinner-bell rang.4

In Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey, Elinor Tilney knows what time her father expects dinner to be served and urges Catherine Morland to hurry to the drawing room. When the company is gathered, the General calls for dinner:

Miss Tilney gently hinted her fear of being late; and in half a minute they ran downstairs together, in an alarm not wholly unfounded, for General Tilney was pacing the drawing-room, his watch in his hand, and having, on the very instant of their entering, pulled the bell with violence, ordered “Dinner to be on table directly!”5

How did guests enter the dining room?

In The Honours of the Table (1791), Trusler wrote:

In all public companies precedence is attended to, and particularly at table. Women have here always taken place of men, and both men and women have sat above each other, according to the rank they bear in life. Where a company is equal in point of rank, married ladies take place of single ones and older ones of younger ones.

When dinner is announced, the mistress of the house requests the lady first in rank, in company, to shew the way to the rest, and walk first into the room where the table is served; she then asks the second in precedence to follow, and after all the ladies are passed, she brings up the rear herself. The master of the house does the same with the gentlemen. Among persons of real distinction, this marshalling of the company is unnecessary, every woman and every man present knows his rank and precedence, and takes the lead, without any direction from the mistress or the master.6

In Pride and Prejudice, after her marriage, Lydia is anxious to assert her precedence over her eldest sister Jane:

She [Elizabeth] then joined them soon enough to see Lydia, with anxious parade, walk up to her mother’s right hand, and hear her say to her eldest sister, “Ah! Jane, I take your place now, and you must go lower, because I am a married woman.”7

Domestic Duties (1825) suggests that the host rather than the hostess takes the lead, and that the company proceeds in couples rather than all the ladies before the gentlemen:

When dinner is announced, the gentleman of the house selects the lady most distinguished by rank, or respectable by age; or the one who is the greatest stranger in the party, to lead to the dining-room…the rest of the party follow in couples.8
Illustration by Hugh Thomson from Emma by Jane Austen (1896 edition)
Illustration by Hugh Thomson
from Emma by Jane Austen (1896 edition)

How were guests seated at the table?

Describing an English dinner in 1810, Simond wrote:

The master and mistress of the house sit at each end of the table, — narrower and longer than the French tables, — the mistress at the upper end ; — and the places near her are the places of honour.9

In his 1804 book on etiquette, Trusler wrote:

Seats at table, are taken generally in the like manner, the ladies at the upper end of the table, the gentlemen at the lower; but the master or mistress of the house will sometimes direct it otherwise, and seat the ladies and gentlemen alternately, that is one gentleman and one lady, and so on, for convenience. When the men and women are so mixed, it is a mark of good manners to carve and help the ladies, to any dish that may be near you.

The mistress of the house always sits at the upper-end of her table, provided any ladies are present, and her husband at the lower-end; but, if the company consists of gentlemen only, the mistress seldom appears, in which case, the master takes the upper-seat.10

In Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen described a dinner party at Rosings, the home of Lady Catherine de Bourgh:

The dinner was exceedingly handsome, and there were all the servants and all the articles of plate which Mr Collins had promised; and, as he had likewise foretold, he took his seat at the bottom of the table, by her ladyship’s desire, and looked as if he felt that life could furnish nothing greater. He carved, and ate, and praised with delighted alacrity.11

Later in the book, at a dinner party at Longbourn, most of the company are left to choose their own places at the table:

When they repaired to the dining-room, Elizabeth eagerly watched to see whether Bingley would take the place, which, in all their former parties, had belonged to him, by her sister. Her prudent mother, occupied by the same ideas, forbore to invite him to sit by herself. On entering the room, he seemed to hesitate; but Jane happened to look round, and happened to smile: it was decided. He placed himself by her.12

In Domestic Duties (1825), Mrs Parkes wrote:

When dinner is announced, the gentleman of the house selects the lady most distinguished by rank, or respectable by age; or the one who is the greatest stranger in the party, to lead to the dining-room, where he places her by himself. If her husband be of the party, he takes the lady of the house to her place at table, and seats himself beside her: the rest of the party follow in couples; and the hostess arranges them according to their rank, or according to what she imagines may be their expectations; always, however, placing the greatest strangers amongst the gentlemen near herself. This arrangement should be effected in an easy, gentle manner, and with as little form as possible.13

This arrangement was clearly not universal as Mrs Parkes felt the need to comment on the custom of host and hostess sitting together:

It is customary in some houses, which are regarded as fashionable, for the master and mistress to sit together at the head of the table, leaving the lower end in charge of a son, or some male relation or friend; but this custom has never been sanctioned by general usage, and is so objectionable, as far as regards the attention and comfort which every guest has a right to expect from his host, that it is not likely ever to prevail. It is true that bad health, advanced age, or accidental circumstances may place a gentleman as a guest at his own table, but when these do not exist, his appropriate situation is, certainly, at the lower end of the table.14

Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Wickham at dinner   Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (1813) Illustration by C E Brock (1895)
Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Wickham at dinner
  Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (1813)
Illustration by C E Brock (1895)
Who could you speak to at a Regency dinner party?

I have long held the belief that you weren’t supposed to talk to anyone apart from the person seated on your immediate right and left, but I am struggling to find this spelt out in any of the books on etiquette I have read. In smaller gatherings, it seems that general conversation was normal:

In Domestic Duties (1825), Mrs Parkes wrote:

A very large party is not likely to be so lively and sociable, as one of moderate size. A remark has somewhere been made, that a dinner party should never be less in number than the graces, nor more than the muses, but certainly more than ten or twelve in number is not desirable. When a table is very long, the conversation, witticisms and pleasantries at one end, must be lost at the other.

She continued:

The conversation must, in a great degree, however, be regulated by the host and hostess; who should be always prepared to rouse it, when it becomes heavy, or to change it, skilfully, when it is likely to turn upon subjects known to be unpleasant to any of their visitors.15

In Pride and Prejudice, at the dinner at Rosings Park mentioned above, Lady Catherine listens to Mr Collins’s conversation, even though he is seated at the far end of the table from her. Elizabeth, however, finds it hard to converse because of where she is placed:

Every dish was commended, first by him [Mr Collins] and then by Sir William, who was now enough recovered to echo whatever his son-in-law said, in a manner which Elizabeth wondered Lady Catherine could bear. But Lady Catherine seemed gratified by their excessive admiration, and gave most gracious smiles, especially when any dish on the table proved a novelty to them. The party did not supply much conversation. Elizabeth was ready to speak whenever there was an opening, but she was seated between Charlotte and Miss de Bourgh—the former of whom was engaged in listening to Lady Catherine, and the latter said not a word to her all dinner-time. Mrs Jenkinson was chiefly employed in watching how little Miss de Bourgh ate, pressing her to try some other dish, and fearing she was indisposed. Maria thought speaking out of the question, and the gentlemen did nothing but eat and admire.16

At the dinner at Longbourn also mentioned above, Elizabeth reflects on Mr Darcy’s position at the dinner table. As was due to a gentleman of his consequence, he is seated next to the hostess:

Mr Darcy was almost as far from her as the table could divide them. He was on one side of her mother. She knew how little such a situation would give pleasure to either, or make either appear to advantage. She was not near enough to hear any of their discourse, but she could see how seldom they spoke to each other, and how formal and cold was their manner whenever they did.17

In Mansfield Park, Fanny Price is invited to dinner by Mrs Grant at the parsonage. With six sat down to dinner, there seems to be only one conversation going on at the dinner table:

A very cordial meeting passed between him [Henry Crawford] and Edmund; and with the exception of Fanny, the pleasure was general; and even to her there might be some advantage in his presence, since every addition to the party must rather forward her favourite indulgence of being suffered to sit silent and unattended to. She was soon aware of this herself; for though she must submit, as her own propriety of mind directed, in spite of her aunt Norris’s opinion, to being the principal lady in company, and to all the little distinctions consequent thereon, she found, while they were at table, such a happy flow of conversation prevailing, in which she was not required to take any part—there was so much to be said between the brother and sister about Bath, so much between the two young men about hunting, so much of politics between Mr Crawford and Dr Grant, and of everything and all together between Mr Crawford and Mrs Grant, as to leave her the fairest prospect of having only to listen in quiet, and of passing a very agreeable day.18

The Dashwoods at dinner with the Middletons   Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen (1811) Illustration by Hugh Thomson (1896)
The Dashwoods at dinner with the Middletons
  Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen (1811)
Illustration by Hugh Thomson (1896)
In Sense and Sensibility, Mrs Jennings has rather vulgar manners:

Willoughby took his usual place between the two elder Miss Dashwoods. Mrs Jennings sat on Elinor’s right hand; and they had not been long seated, before she leant behind her and Willoughby, and said to Marianne, loud enough for them both to hear, “I have found you out in spite of all your tricks. I know where you spent the morning.”19

Did they use napkins?

Domestic Duties (1825) states:

When, according to the continental fashion, the cloth is allowed to remain on the table; or, according to the more general custom of this country, before it is removed, a silver, or a china or glass dish, containing rose-water, is passed round the table, into which each guest dips the corner of his table napkin, for the purpose of refreshing his mouth and fingers, prior to the appearance of the dessert.20

Earlier, in 1810, Simonds observed that sometimes the tablecloth was used instead of a napkin:

Towards the end of dinner, and before the ladies retire, bowls of coloured glass full of water are placed before each person. All (women as well as men) stoop over it, sucking up some of the water, and returning it, often more than once, and, with a spitting and washing sort of noise, quite charming,— the operation frequently assisted by a finger elegantly thrust into the mouth! This done, and the hands dipped also, the napkins, and sometimes the table-cloth, are used to wipe hand and mouth.21

When was dinner over?

It was polite for the host or hostess of a dinner party to keep eating as long as any of their guests. Trusler wrote in The Honours of the Table (1791):

The master or mistress of the table should continue eating, whilst any of the company are so employed, and to enable them to do this, they should help themselves accordingly.22

Did the children of the house join the company after dinner?

This must have been a custom in the circles in which Jane Austen moved. In Emma, she described a dinner party at the Coles’s:

She [Emma] said no more, other subjects took their turn; and the rest of the dinner passed away; the dessert succeeded, the children came in, and were talked to and admired amid the usual rate of conversation.23

Similarly, in Sense and Sensibility:

Lady Middleton seemed to be roused to enjoyment only by the entrance of her four noisy children after dinner, who pulled her about, tore her clothes, and put an end to every kind of discourse except what related to themselves.24

I’ve looked at the question of drinking healths and ladies withdrawing from the table to leave the men at their wine in a separate post here.

Rachel Knowles writes clean/Christian historical romance set in the time of Jane Austen. She has been sharing her research on this blog since 2011. Rachel lives in the beautiful Georgian seaside town of Weymouth, Dorset, on the south coast of England, with her husband, Andrew.

Find out more about Rachel's books and sign up for her newsletter here.

If you have enjoyed this blog and want to encourage me and help me to keep making my research freely available, please buy me a virtual cup of coffee by clicking the button below.

      

 

Notes

  1. Trusler, Rev Dr John, A System of Etiquette (1804).

  2. Freeling, Arthur, The Pocket Book of Etiquette (Liverpool, 1837).

  3. Austen, Jane, Mansfield Park (1814).

  4. Edgeworth, Maria, Belinda (1801).

  5. Austen, Jane, Northanger Abbey (1817).

  6. Trusler, John, The Honours of the Table, or, rules for behaviour during meals (1791).

  7. Austen, Jane, Pride and Prejudice (1813).

  8. Parkes, Mrs William, Domestic Duties or Instructions to young married ladies on the management of their households (London, 1825).

  9. Simond, Louis, Journal of a Tour and Residence in Great Britain, during the years 1810 and 1811 (1815).

  10. Trusler, Rev Dr John, A System of Etiquette (1804).

  11. Austen, Jane, Pride and Prejudice (1813).

  12. Ibid.

  13. Parkes op cit.

  14. Ibid.

  15. Ibid.

  16. Austen, Jane, Pride and Prejudice (1813).

  17. Ibid.

  18. Austen, Jane, Mansfield Park (1814).

  19. Austen, Jane, Sense and Sensibility (1811).

  20. Parkes op cit.

  21. Simond op cit.

  22. Trusler, John, The Honours of the Table, or, rules for behaviour during meals (1791).

  23. Austen, Jane, Emma (1815).

  24. Austen, Jane, Sense and Sensibility (1811).

  25.  

    Sources used include:

    Austen, Jane, Emma (1815)

    Austen, Jane, Jane Austen's Letters, Collected and Edited by Le Faye, Deirdre (Oxford University Press, 1995)

    Austen, Jane, Mansfield Park (1814)

    Austen, Jane, Northanger Abbey (1817)

    Austen, Jane, Pride and Prejudice (1813)

    Austen, Jane, Sense and Sensibility (1811)

    Austen, Jane, The Letters of Jane Austen selected from the compilation of her great nephew, Edward, Lord Bradbourne ed Sarah Woolsey (1892)

    Cruickshank, Dan and Burton, Neil, Life in the Georgian City (1990)

    Edgeworth, Maria, Belinda (1801)

    Espriella, Don Manuel Alvare, Letters from England, translated from the Spanish by Robert Southey 3rd edition (1814) Volume 1

    Freeling, Arthur, The Pocket Book of Etiquette (Liverpool, 1837)

    Parkes, Mrs William, Domestic Duties or Instructions to young married ladies on the management of their households (London, 1825)

    Simond, Louis, Journal of a Tour and Residence in Great Britain, during the years 1810 and 1811 (1815)

    Trusler, Rev Dr John, A System of Etiquette (1804)

    Trusler, John, The Honours of the Table, or, rules for behaviour during meals (1791)

    All photographs © Regencyhistory.net

     

Tuesday, 6 November 2018

Masquerade balls in Regency London

Masquerade at the Pantheon from The Microcosm of London Vol 2 (1808-10)
Masquerade at the Pantheon (cropped)
from The Microcosm of London Vol 2 (1808-10)
A masquerade is a valuable plot device for a historical romance writer. There is no end to the scenarios that could arise when your characters’ identities are disguised. When writing the first draft of A Reason for Romance (The Merry Romances #2), I saw how I could use a masquerade to take the story where I wanted it to go. Questions immediately arose in my mind. I knew that masquerades were very popular in the 18th century, but did they still have masquerades in 1810? Were they as I imagined them? What sort of costumes did they wear, and did they always wear masks?

Public masquerades

According to the Picture of London (1810), public masquerades took place at the Argyle Rooms, the Opera House and the Pantheon. It wrote:
The Fashionable Institution in Argyle-street embraces the amusements of masquerades, concerts, vocal and instrumental, &c.1
In the diary of the exhibitions and amusements of London for the month of January it stated:
N.B. In the course of this and the ensuing five months, masquerades are occasionally held at the Opera-house, and the Pantheon, always previously advertised in the newspapers, admission 10s 6d, 1l 1s and 2l 2s and dresses may be hired at the masquerade warehouses, from 5s to 2l 2s each.1
The plate of Masquerade at the Pantheon (shown cropped at the top of this post and in full under 'A masquerade in The Sylph' below) accompanied a chapter on the Pantheon in the Microcosm of London. It said:
Since the Pantheon was rebuilt, it has been principally used for exhibitions, and occasionally for masquerades, of which the plate is a very spirited representation. It is composed, as these scenes usually are, of a motley crowd of peers and pickpockets, honourables and dishonourables, Jew brokers and demireps, quidnuncs and quack doctors.2
A masquerade at the Argyll Rooms was advertised in The Times for 31 May 1810:
Masquerade, Argyle Rooms. – By Permission of the Right Hon. the Lord Chamberlain. – S. Slade most respectfully informs the Nobility, Gentry, and his Friends in general, that his BENEFIT MASQUED BALL will take place on Wednesday, the 6th of June. Gentlemens Tickets 1l 11s 6d Ladies Tickets 1l 1s; to include Refreshments, Supper, old Port, Sherry, Madeira, and Claret, to be had at the Office, Little Argyle-street. To prevent the intrusion of improper persons, no ticket will be issued, unless the name and address is left at this Office.3
Masquerade, Argyll Rooms Print by T Lane Published by George Hunt (1826) © British Museum
Masquerade, Argyll Rooms
Print by T Lane Published by George Hunt (1826) © British Museum
Private masquerades

Not all masquerades were public affairs. During his stay in London in 1809-10, the Persian ambassador, Mirza Abul Hassan Khan, kept a journal, and he wrote of several masquerades he had attended.

One was a breakfast masquerade held at the house of Lady Buckinghamshire on 22 May 1810. The guests had been invited to come in fancy dress but the ambassador and his host, Sir Gore Ouseley, did not. The ambassador noted that the costumes included a lady’s maid, a sailor, and a Roman empress, and numerous Iranians, Turks and Indians. He commented that one Iranian ‘wore a false beard made from the hair of a cat or a goat.’ I like to use real events in my stories where possible, and so in A Reason for Romance, my heroine Georgiana attends this breakfast masquerade along with the Persian ambassador and some 500 others.

He attended another masquerade – this time a ball – at Mrs Chichester’s house on 18 June. Sir Gore Ouseley pretended he was not going but actually dressed up as a Persian and tried to fool the ambassador.

At another masquerade in June, the ambassador was approached by Lady William Gordon, who was then unknown to him, disguised as a priest.

Masquerading by Thomas Rowlandson (30/08/1811)  from the Metropolitan Museum DP881828
Masquerading by Thomas Rowlandson (30/08/1811)
from the Metropolitan Museum DP881828
A masquerade in The Sylph

Judging by the number of contemporary novels that include masquerades, it would appear to have been generally accepted that a person’s identity could be successfully hidden by their costume. The accounts often include details of the characters and costumes worn.

The Sylph by Georgiana Cavendish, Duchess of Devonshire, was published in 1778. The heroine, Julia, Lady Stanley, attends a masquerade at the Pantheon. Here she meets in person the Sylph, a man who has been acting as her guardian angel, giving her advice by letter. The author gives us a detailed description of what the Sylph was wearing:
I will describe his dress: his figure in itself seems the most perfect I ever saw; the finest harmony of shape; a waistcoat and breeches of silver tissue, exactly fitted to his body; buskins of the same, fringed, &c.; a blue silk mantle depending from one shoulder, to which it was secured by a diamond epaulette, falling in beautiful folds upon the ground; this robe was starred all over with plated silver, which had a most brilliant effect; on each shoulder was placed a transparent wing of painted gauze, which looked like peacocks feathers; a cap, suitable to the whole dress, which was certainly the most elegant and best contrived that can be imagined. I gazed on him with the most perfect admiration. Ah! how I longed to see his face, which the envious mask concealed. His hair hung in sportive ringlets; and just carelessly restrained from wandering too far by a white ribband.4
This idea that a costume gave a sense of anonymity is further reinforced when Julia leaves the masquerade in the company, so she thinks, of her husband:
I had taken off my mask, as it was very warm; he still kept his on, and talked in the same kind of voice he practised at the masquerade. He paid me most profuse compliments on the beauty of my dress, and, throwing his arms round my waist, congratulated himself on possessing such an angel, at the same time kissing my face and bosom with such a strange kind of eagerness as made me suppose he was intoxicated; and, under that idea, being very desirous of disengaging myself from his arms, I struggled to get away from him. He pressed me to go to bed; and, in short, his behaviour was unaccountable: at last, on my persisting to intreat him to let me go, he blew out one of the candles. I then used all my force, and burst from him, and at that instant his mask gave way; and in the dress of my husband, (Oh, Louisa! judge, if you can, of my terror) I beheld that villain Lord Biddulph.4
Masquerade at the Pantheon from The Microcosm of London Vol 2 (1808-10)
Masquerade at the Pantheon from The Microcosm of London Vol 2 (1808-10)
A masquerade in Cecilia

Fanny Burney’s Cecilia was published in 1782. Burney’s description of a masquerade attended by her heroine Cecilia gives us details of some of the costumes people wore:
Dominos of no character, and fancy dresses of no meaning, made, as is usual at such meetings, the general herd of the company: for the rest, the men were Spaniards, chimney-sweepers, Turks, watchmen, conjurers, and old women; and the ladies, shepherdesses, orange girls, Circassians, gipseys, haymakers, and sultanas.5
Burney also mentions a Minerva, a Don Devil and a Harlequin.

A masquerade in Belinda

Belinda by Maria Edgeworth was published in 1801. Edgeworth describes how Belinda and her hostess, Lady Delacour, are to go to a masquerade.
Lady Delacour burst into the room, exclaiming, in a tone of gaiety, “Tragedy or comedy, Belinda? The masquerade dresses are come.”6
Lady Delacour chooses tragedy but then changes her mind and insists that they swap dresses. She assures Belinda: ‘Not a human being will find us out at the masquerade.’6

The disguise is so good that Lady Delacour’s admirer, Clarence Hervey, mistakes Belinda for Lady Delacour, and Belinda overhears a conversation not intended for her ears which includes derogatory comments about her aunt and herself.

Edgeworth also describes the elaborate costume of a serpent that Mr Hervey had planned to wear:
The first person they saw, when they went into the drawing-room at Lady Singleton’s, was this very Clarence Hervey, who was not in a masquerade dress. He had laid a wager with one of his acquaintance, that he could perform the part of the serpent, such as he is seen in Fuseli’s well-known picture. For this purpose he had exerted much ingenuity in the invention and execution of a length of coiled skin, which he manoeuvred with great dexterity, by means of internal wires; his grand difficulty had been to manufacture the rays that were to come from his eyes. He had contrived a set of phosphoric rays, which he was certain would charm all the fair daughters of Eve. He forgot, it seems, that phosphorus could not well be seen by candlelight. When he was just equipped as a serpent, his rays set fire to part of his envelope, and it was with the greatest difficulty that he was extricated. He escaped unhurt, but his serpent’s skin was utterly consumed; nothing remained but the melancholy spectacle of its skeleton.6
Edgeworth notes that:
After a recital of his misfortune had entertained the company, and after the muses had performed their parts to the satisfaction of the audience and their own, the conversation ceased to be supported in masquerade character; muses and harlequins, gipsies and Cleopatras, began to talk of their private affairs, and of the news and the scandal of the day.6
On arriving at the Pantheon, Lady Delacourt gives Belinda the following advice:
You have nothing to fear from me, and everything to hope from yourself, if you will only dry up your tears, keep on your mask, and take my advice.6
Later, Edgeworth refers to another masquerade costume:
Lady Delacour … returned, dressed in the character of Queen Elizabeth, in which she had once appeared at a masquerade, with a large ruff, and all the costume of the times.6
Illustration from Belinda by Maria Edgeworth - 1850 edition
Illustration from Belinda by Maria Edgeworth - 1850 edition
Costumes at Vauxhall in 1787

Further suggestions of the costumes people wore can be gleaned from the description of the masqued ball in Vauxhall Gardens in May 1787 which was reported in The Times. The costumes of note included ‘a lady who professed herself eight months advanced in pregnancy’7 which was judged to be an excellent character, but a poor disguise as she was unmasked. She was accompanied by a nurse. There was also a wild Irishman, a wooden-legged Harlequin, a noisy watchman, a woman selling primroses, a Punch, young Astley as half Beau and half Belle, a Highland lad and lassie, the character of a porter from the comic opera The Duenna who ‘asked no more than nature craved’ (a line from The Duenna which was written by Richard Brinsley Sheridan) and a cobbler, together with an assortment of cricketers, haymakers, flower girls and vestal virgins.

Headshot of Rachel Knowles author with sea in background(2021)
Rachel Knowles writes clean/Christian Regency era romance and historical non-fiction. She has been sharing her research on this blog since 2011. Rachel lives in the beautiful Georgian seaside town of Weymouth, Dorset, on the south coast of England, with her husband, Andrew.

Find out more about Rachel's books and sign up for her newsletter here.

If you have enjoyed this blog and want to encourage me and help me to keep making my research freely available, please buy me a virtual cup of coffee by clicking the button below.

 

Notes
(1) From Feltham, John, The Picture of London for 1810 (1810).
(2) From Ackermann, Rudolph and Pyne, William Henry, The Microcosm of London or London in miniature Volume 2 (Rudolph Ackermann 1808-1810, reprinted 1904).
(3) From The Times, 31 May 1810.
(4) From Cavendish, Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, The Sylph (1778).
(5) From Burney, Fanny, Cecilia or Memoirs of an Heiress (1782).
(6) From Edgeworth, Maria, Belinda (1801).
(7) From The Times, 18 May 1787.

Sources used include:
Ackermann, Rudolph and Pyne, William Henry, The Microcosm of London or London in miniature Volume 2 (Rudolph Ackermann 1808-1810, reprinted 1904)
Burney, Fanny, Cecilia or Memoirs of an Heiress (1782)
Cavendish, Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, The Sylph (1778)
Edgeworth, Maria, Belinda (1802)
Feltham, John, The Picture of London for 1810 (1810)
Hassan Khan, Mirza Abul, A Persian at the Court of King George 1809-10, edited by Margaret Morris Cloake (1988)

The Times online archive