Social Life

Landowning aristocratic and gentry families during the Regency period lived most of the year at their country estates, with an annual visit to London for the “Season.” The Season roughly corresponded with the seating of Parliament, beginning after Christmas until late June, with the busiest social months being from April to mid-summer. Men and women would attend dinners, balls, and conduct social calls; men would also gather at their “clubs” to socialize, play cards, and dine. The London season was also marked by special occasions such as theatrical and musical performances, polo and equestrian events, and the Royal Academy Summer exhibition. There were private balls and also exclusive public dance venues such as Almack’s (though none of Austen’s characters attend any but private balls in London). After the Season, families would sometimes travel before returning to their country homes, often to spas or seaside watering places such as Bath, Lyme Regis, or Brighton.

Social life in all of these locations—country, city, and watering places—was conducted within one’s social class and governed by elaborate codes of etiquette that were particularly circumscribed for young unmarried women. New social connections were made through a series of visits, initiated first by men. Morning calls would be paid first, which could then lead up to invitations to formal meals. In all social interaction, conversation was at the heart of the occasion, and this too was carefully limited by the demands of etiquette, which shifted somewhat depending on the level of acquaintance. When the genders were separated, there was greater flexibility in conversation (particularly for men).

“Morning” calls were short visits that took place in the early afternoon, usually between 11 and 4, and they were the principal means of making and preserving acquaintances within a given social class. In the country, families could not visit each other until a formal acquaintance was made; when a new family moved to the neighborhood, for example, only established men in the neighborhood could pay a call (women could not initiate new acquaintances themselves). The man could then introduce the women of the family, at which point the women could begin calling on the women of the new household (women could never call upon men). If the acquaintance were accepted by the social superior, the inferior’s social standing would increase as a result of the acquaintance. By leaving cards, those wishing to be admitted as acquaintances gave the person they were calling upon the chance to ignore them, thus rejecting the acquaintance, or to return the call, thus initiating the acquaintance. Visiting cards were displayed on a silver tray or in a china bowl in entry-halls, with the higher-ranking names prominently placed in view.

Some calls, usually occurring somewhat later in the afternoon, were made specifically to recognize ceremonial events such as marriage, birth of children, and deaths. Calls would also be made to acknowledge hospitality—after a ball or a dinner, for example.

The following excerpt describes the etiquette of morning calls. Though this guide was written later in the nineteenth century, the customs surrounding this ritual had not changed significantly since the Regency period.

After luncheon, morning calls and visits may be made and received. These may be divided under three heads: those of ceremony, friendship, and congratulation or condolence. Visits of ceremony, or courtesy, which occasionally merge into those of friendship, are to be paid under various circumstances. Thus, they are uniformly required after dining at a friend’s house, or after a ball, picnic, or any other party. These visits should be short, a stay of from fifteen to twenty minutes being quite sufficient. A lady paying a visit may remove her boa or neckerchief; but neither her shawl nor bonnet.

When other visitors are announced, it is well to retire as soon as possible, taking care to let it appear that their arrival is not the cause. When they are quietly seated, and the bustle of their entrance is over, rise from your chair, taking a kind leave of the hostess, and bowing politely to the guests. Should you call at an inconvenient time, not having ascertained the luncheon hour, or from any other inadvertence, retire as soon as possible, without, however, showing that you feel yourself an intruder. It is not difficult for any well-bred or even good-tempered person, to know what to say on such an occasion, and, on politely withdrawing, a promise can be made to call again, if the lady you have called on, appear really disappointed.

In paying visits of friendship, it will not be so necessary to be guided by etiquette as in paying visits of ceremony; and if a lady be pressed by her friend to remove her shawl and bonnet, it can be done if it will not interfere with her subsequent arrangements. It is, however, requisite to call at suitable times, and to avoid staying too long, if your friend is engaged. The courtesies of society should ever be maintained, even in the domestic circle, and amongst the nearest friends. During these visits, the manners should be easy and cheerful, and the subjects of conversation such as may be readily terminated. Serious discussions or arguments are to be altogether avoided, and there is much danger and impropriety in expressing opinions of those persons and characters with whom, perhaps, there is but a slight acquaintance.

It is not advisable, at any time, to take favourite dogs into another lady’s drawing-room, for many persons have an absolute dislike to such animals; and besides this, there is always a chance of a breakage of some article occurring, through their leaping and bounding here and there, sometimes very much to the fear and annoyance of the hostess. Her children, also, unless they are particularly well-trained and orderly, and she is on exceedingly friendly terms with the hostess, should not accompany a lady in making morning calls. Where a lady, however, pays her visits in a carriage, the children can be taken in the vehicle, and remain in it until the visit is over.

For morning calls, it is well to be neatly attired; for a costume very different to that you generally wear, or anything approaching an evening dress, will be very much out of place. As a general rule, it may be said, both in reference to this and all other occasions, it is better to be under-dressed than over-dressed.

A strict account should be kept of ceremonial visits, and notice how soon your visits have been returned. An opinion may thus be formed as to whether your frequent visits are, or are not, desirable. There are, naturally, instances when the circumstances of old age or ill health will preclude any return of a call; but when this is the case, it must not interrupt the discharge of the duty.

In paying visits of condolence, it is to be remembered that they should be paid within a week after the event which occasions them. If the acquaintance, however, is but slight, then immediately after the family has appeared at public worship. A lady should send in her card, and if her friends be able to receive her, the visitor’s manner and conversation should be subdued and in harmony with the character of her visit. Courtesy would dictate that a mourning card should be used, and that visitors, in paying condoling visits, should be dressed in black, either silk or plain-coloured apparel. Sympathy with the affliction of the family, is thus expressed, and these attentions are, in such cases, pleasing and soothing.

In all these visits, if your acquaintance or friend be not at home, a card should be left. If in a carriage, the servant will answer your inquiry and receive your card; if paying your visits on foot, give your card to the servant in the hall, but leave to go in and rest should on no account be asked. The form of words, “Not at home,” may be understood in different senses; but the only courteous way is to receive them as being perfectly true. You may imagine that the lady of the house is really at home, and that she would make an exception in your favour, or you may think that your acquaintance is not desired; but, in either case, not the slightest word is to escape you, which would suggest, on your part, such an impression.

In receiving morning calls, the foregoing description of the etiquette to be observed in paying them, will be of considerable service. It is to be added, however, that the occupations of drawing, music, or reading should be suspended on the entrance of morning visitors. If a lady, however, be engaged with light needlework, and none other is appropriate in the drawing-room, it may not be, under some circumstances, inconsistent with good breeding to quietly continue it during conversation, particularly if the visit be protracted, or the visitors be gentlemen.

Formerly the custom was to accompany all visitors quitting the house to the door, and there take leave of them; but modern society, which has thrown off a great deal of this kind of ceremony, now merely requires that the lady of the house should rise from her seat, shake hands, or courtesy, in accordance with the intimacy she has with her guests, and ring the bell to summon the servant to attend them and open the door.

Austen read Gisborne’s book in 1805, writing to her sister Cassandra on August 30th that “I am glad you recommended ‘Gisborne,’ for having begun, I am pleased with it.” In the excerpt below, Gisborne gives advice to young women regarding the art and perils of conversation.

from Chapter 6

On Female Conversation and Epistolary Correspondence

Conversation is an index to the mind. “Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh.” The observation is true, not only when referring to those who use the language of openness and sincerity, but also when applied to the reserved man and the dissembler. Closeness indicates distrust; and often, by sharpening curiosity, causes the discovery of what is meant to be concealed. Art sooner or later drops the mask, or gives ample proof that she wears one. If it be admitted, conformably to general opinion, that female fluency in discourse is greater and more persevering than that of the other sex; it behoves women the more steadily to remember, that the fountain will be estimated according to the stream. …

Among the faults which it is usual to hear laid to the charge of young women, when female discourse is canvassed, vanity, affectation, and frivolousness, seem to furnish the most prevailing theme of censure. That in a great number of instances the censure is warranted, cannot be denied. And every young woman ought to beware, lest there should be ground for applying it, with justice, to herself. … But it is no more than common candour to avow, that in addition to those defects which frequently subsist in the plan of female education, there is another cause to which a portion of this vanity, and of its concomitant habits and errors, must be ascribed; namely, the injudicious and reprehensible behavior of the other sex. …

For, antecedently to experience, could it appear probable that a man of sense, when conversing with a woman whom he deemed to possess a cultivated mind, would study, as it should seem to shun every subject of discourse which might afford scope for the exercise of reason: that his whole aim would apparently be, to excite noisy gaiety founded on nothing; to call forth a contest of puny witticism and flippant repartee; to discuss the merits of caps and colours, and essences and fans; and to intoxicate the head, and beguile the heart, by every mode and every extravagance of compliment? Yet such is the sort of conversation daily to be heard; and not in public places only, but in private families; and not only from the giddiness of empty young men, but from men of mature years, and of a more sober cast; men who, themselves, have daughters about to be introduced into the world, and are themselves known, in their serious moments, to lament, and to lament with sincerity, the temptations and dangers by which those daughters, when introduced, are to be assailed. The effects of such treatment and intercourse on young women are deeply and permanently mischievous. … Young women will act wisely in remembering that men who are addicted to this style of conversation, and profuse in the language of complimentary encomium, are found in general to be indiscriminate flatterers, and to applaud without inward approbation; and that, if single men, they are often among the least likely to have their affections seriously engaged, and the least worthy to possess the affections of another. …

Let ease exempt from affectation, gaiety prompted by innocence, laughter the effusion of ingenuous delight, and wit unstained with any tincture of malevolence, enliven the hours of social converse. But let it not be thought that their enlivening influence is unreasonably curtailed, if good sense be empowered at all times to superintend their proceedings; and if sobriety be authorized sometimes to interpose topics, which may exercise and improve the faculties of the understanding.

Regency dinner parties were elaborate affairs, with many dishes and several courses (as many as twenty-five different dishes on very formal occasions). Soup would be served first, followed by fish and then joints of meat—typically mutton or beef—after which cheese and salad would be served. The second course would follow, with another variety of dishes, and the meal would conclude with dessert. After dinner, ladies would retire to the drawing room while the men stayed to drink port in the dining room. The men would later join the women in the drawing room for conversation, music, and cards until late in the evening.

In Austen’s day, a country house dining room was often situated across the hall from the drawing room. While the dining room was dedicated to formal meals, it was also the place where men would linger after the meal to drink and discuss politics. This segregation of the sexes following dinner was a particularly British custom that was not followed on the Continent (and that was seen as barbarous there).

The ideal drawing room, which was considered a “feminine” space as opposed to the “masculine” dining room, would have a large fireplace, a pianoforte and other instruments (a harp, perhaps), prospects of the park, and the finest furnishings and artwork in the house. The drawing room served as a reception room for callers, as well as a space for entertaining, visiting, and drinking tea and coffee after a meal.

Following dinner, the women would leave the table and go to the drawing room, where they would brew tea and talk amongst themselves, perhaps taking up needlework. When the gentlemen rejoined the ladies in the drawing room, there would be conversation, games of cards, or musical performances. The drawing room was thus, in a sense, the stage on which a lady’s “accomplishments” were performed.

Although this room became increasingly a masculine space as the century wore on, during Austen’s time both men and women played billiards.

The London Season ended on 12 August every year, and the 13th of that month marks the beginning of the shooting season. At this time, society would leave the city and go to their country houses, where the men would shoot pheasants during the fall months.

Fox hunting took place between November and March, and the sport was at the height of its popularity during the Regency (it was outlawed in 2005). Keeping hounds and hunters—the horses used for fox hunting—was an expensive undertaking, and only gentlemen of means could afford to do it.

In the country and in London, balls brought men and women together in close proximity and were eagerly anticipated social occasions. These social gatherings lasted six hours or more, ending at dawn, and they tended to be stiflingly hot, with many people dancing in candlelit rooms. This image is from Egan’s Life in London, which was a bestselling book detailing the adventures of Tom, Jerry, and Logic as they explored the metropolis. The characters encounter both “high” and “low” life, and here Tom and Jerry are at Almack’s, the most exclusive dance club in London. “Vouchers” to gain admittance to the Wednesday dances at Almack’s were only given to those who were approved in advance by a committee comprising seven of the most elegant and influential ladies in society. Almack’s was the most sought after place for mothers to introduce their debutante daughters to society.

Dances among the gentry and aristocracy varied in degree of exclusivity and numbers of couples, depending on whether one was in town or in the country, and on whether it was a public or private ball. There were, for example, “assembly balls,” where anyone with a ticket might attend (such as the Meryton assembly in Pride and Prejudice); and there were private balls, which one could only attend by invitation (such as the Netherfield ball in Pride and Prejudice). There were specific codes of behavior that regulated all such gatherings. For example, in theory a woman should not dance with a partner to whom she had not been formally introduced; if she turns a partner down, she is expected to refrain from dancing for the rest of the evening; and she is not supposed to dance more than twice with the same partner. In addition to such expectations for behavior, some assemblies, such as those in the Upper and Lower Rooms in Bath, had their own particular schedules and codes of behavior.

The dances themselves were complex and required instruction and practice. There were many instructional manuals and books on the subject, and most young ladies were given lessons as part of their education.

The following images are taken from a popular dance manual by Thomas Wilson, who was a famous dance instructor in Austen’s day. In the diagrams, the women are represented by red diamonds and the men by blue circles.

The Upper Assembly Rooms in Bath were built in 1769 as a venue for balls and concerts. During “the season” in Bath, which ran from October to early June, two balls a week were held in the Upper Rooms. The Master of Ceremonies of the Upper Rooms asked that visitors to Bath “on their arrival cause their names, with their places of abode, to be inserted in the book kept at the Pump Room for that purpose, which will afford him such information as will enable him to comply with his own wishes, and the expectations of the public.” In an effort to keep “improper company” from the Rooms, the Master of Ceremonies required everyone in attendance to be introduced to him first.

The waltz became fashionable during the Regency period, though it was considered scandalous by many on account of the close proximity of the couple (whose arms encircled each other, whereas in previous dances only hand-contact had been permitted). Almack’s, an exclusive club in London, permitted the waltz, but it was considered “riotous and indecent” as late as 1825, and debutantes were not encouraged to waltz. It was, however, acceptable enough that Austen has Emma and Frank Churchill dance a waltz at the Coles’ private house party.

George Gordon, Lord Byron wrote a satire on the waltz under the pseudonym “Horace Hornem, Esq.” The poem is preceded by a note to the publisher in which Hornem describes the experience of watching his wife dance the waltz; a selection from the note is reproduced below, followed by an excerpt from the poem itself.

… [J]udge of my surprise, on arriving, to see poor dear Mrs. Hornem with her arms half round the loins of a huge hussar-looking gentleman I never set eyes on before, and his, to say truth, more than half round her waist, turning round, and round, and round, to a d—d see-saw up and down sort of tune[.] … By and by they stopped a bit, and I thought they would sit or fall down: but, no; with Mrs. H.’s hand on his shoulder … they walked about a minute, and then at it again, like two cockchafers spitted on the same bodkin. I asked what all this meaned, when, with a loud laugh, a child … said, “L—d, Mr. Hornem, can’t you see they are valtzing?” or waltzing (I forget which)[.] …

… Endearing Waltz—to thy more melting tune
Bow Irish Jig and ancient Rigadoon;
Scotch reels avaunt!—and Country dance forego
Your future claims to each fantastic toe;
Waltz—Waltz—alone both arms and legs demands,
Liberal of feet—and lavish of her hands;
Hands which may freely range in public sight,
Where ne’er before—but—pray “put out the light.”
Methinks the glare of yonder chandelier
Shines much too far—or I am much too near;
And true, though strange—Waltz whispers this remark,
“My slippery steps are safest in the dark!”

From 1806 to 1830, the Argyll Rooms in London were a fashionable gathering place for dancing and concerts. This image is of the Cyprian’s ball, a Venetian carnival ball held at the Argyll Rooms in 1818.

Byron describes the Argyll Rooms in his poem English Bards and Scotch Reviewers (1809):

Where yon proud palace Fashion’s hallowed fane,
Spreads wide her portals for the motley train,
Behold the new Petronius of the day,
The Arbiter of pleasure and of play!
There the hired Eunuch, the Hesperian choir,
The melting lute, the soft lascivious lyre,
The song from Italy, the step from France,
The midnight orgy, and the mazy dance,
The smile of beauty, and the flush of wine,
For fops, fools, gamesters, knaves, and Lords combine;
Each to his humour,—Comus all allows;
Champaign, dice, music, or your neighbour’s spouse.
Talk not to us, ye starving sons of trade!
Of piteous ruin, which ourselves have made:
In Plenty’s sunshine Fortune’s minions bask,
Nor think of Poverty, except “en masque,”
When for the night some lately titled ass
Appears the beggar which his grandsire was.
The curtain dropped, the gay Burletta o’er,
The audience take their turn upon the floor;
Now round the room the circling dow’gers sweep.
Now in loose waltz the thin-clad daughters leap:
The first in lengthen’d line majestic swim,
The last display the free, unfettered limb:
Those for Hibernia’s lusty sons repair
With art the charms which Nature could not spare:
These after husbands wing their eager flight.
Nor leave much mystery for the nuptial night.

Instances of ILL MANNERS, to be carefully avoided by youth of both sexes.

Omitting to pay proper respect to company, on entering or leaving a room; or paying it only to one person, when more are present.
Entering a room with the hat on, and leaving it in the same manner.
Sitting still on the entrance of your instructor, strangers or parents.
Omitting the proper attention, when waited on by superiors.
Passing between the fire and persons sitting at it.
Whispering, or pointing in company, and standing between the light and any person wanting it.
Contradicting your parents or strangers who are any way engaged in conversation.
Laughing loudly, when in company, and drumming with feet or hands.
Swinging the arms, and all other awkward gestures, especially in the street, and in company.
All actions that have the most remote tendency to indelicacy.
Leaning on the shoulder, or chair of another person, and overlooking persons who are writing or reading.
Throwing things instead of handing them, and crowding others in a passage, or running against their elbows.
Contempt in looks, words, or actions, for a partner in dancing, or other persons.
All instances of that ill judged familiarity which breeds contempt.
Lolling on a chair when speaking or when spoken to, and looking persons earnestly in the face without any apparent cause.
Surliness of all kinds, especially on receiving a compliment.
Distortion of countenance, and mimicry.
Ridicule of every kind, vice or folly.
A constant smile or settled frown on the countenance.

This delightful city, where Fashion has long established her court, and where Beauty and Elegance are seen in her train, has been singularly favoured both by nature and art, and is worthy of that distinguished pre-eminence which it has acquired. It lies at the north-eastern extremity of Somersetshire, about 107 miles from London, and twelve from Bristol.

Bath is surrounded by an amphitheatre of hills of considerable height, except where they open to allow a course for the Avon, which winds slowly and majestically close to the city, and, being navigable for barges to Bristol, facilitates the intercourse with that busy port.

The valley in which Bath lies, being too small to contain the numerous splendid buildings which have been erected there within the spare of a century, they gradually covered the side of the hill toward the north, and now crown its summit. Nothing indeed can be more picturesque than the appearance of this city, where houses rise behind houses in progressive order, while the most elevated seem to look down with proud superiority on the no less elegant and extensive structures below. In the hills which environ it, rise excellent springs of water; and by means of pipes almost every house is amply supplied with that necessary of life. …

[Feltham introduces the figure of Richard Nash, who, in his position as Bath’s Master of Ceremonies from 1704 to 1761, contributed significantly to the development of the town’s social life.]

Under his [Nash’s] auspices, Bath suddenly rose to distinction; and it has, ever since the commencement of his reign, been advancing in elegance, splendour, and taste. Whoever was the original founder of Bath, to Nash is due the merit of being its restorer; and the beneficial effects of the regulations he established, still continue to operate; nor are the laws he promulgated yet repealed.

His code serves to display his character as a man of whim, as well as of taste and knowledge of life. A copy of it is still in the Lower-rooms, and consists of eleven articles, besides a stinging Nota Bene.

RULES BY GENERAL CONSENT DETERMINED. 1742.
I. That a visit of ceremony at coming to Bath, and another at going away, is all that is expected or desired by ladies of quality and fashion—except impertinents.
II. That ladies coming to the ball, appoint a time for their footmen’s coming to wait on them home, to prevent disturbances and inconveniences to themselves and others.
III. That gentlemen of fashion, never appearing in a morning before the ladies in gowns and caps, shew breeding and respect.
IV. That no person take it ill that any one goes to another’s play or breakfast, and not to theirs—except captious by nature.
V. That no gentleman give his tickets for the balls to any but gentlewomen.—N.B. Unless he has none of his acquaintance.
VI. That gentlemen crowding before the ladies at a ball, shew ill-manners; and that none do so for the future—except such as respect nobody but themselves.
VII. That no gentleman or lady take it ill that another dances before them—except such as have no pretence to dance at all.
VIII. That the elder ladies and children be contented with a second bench at the ball, as bring past or not come to perfection.
IX. That the younger ladies take notice how many eyes observe them.—N.B. This does not extend to the have-at-alls.
X. That all whisperers of lies and scandal be taken for their authors.
XI. That all repeaters of such lies and scandal be shunned by all company—except such as have been guilty of the same crime.
N.B. Several men of no character, old women, and young ones of questioned reputation, are great authors of lies in this place, being of the sect of Levellers.

Under the administration of Nash, no rank could protect the offender, or dignity of situation influence him to connive at a breach of laws. He desired the duchess of Queensbury, who appeared at a dress in an apron, of point lace worth 500 guineas, to take it off; which she instantly did, at the same time requesting his acceptance of it: and when the Princess Amelia requested to have one dance more after eleven o’clock, he replied, that the laws of Bath, like those of Lycurgus, were unalterable. …

It would be illiberal and unjust to deny that the Bath waters possess very salutary effects, in many cases of human infirmity; but perhaps more than one half of the virtues which are ascribed to them originate from the relaxation, the temperance, and change of scene and air which patients here enjoy; and, above all, from their constantly varied but unfatiguing amusements, which draw the valetudinarians, as it were, from themselves, and inspire livelier and brighter ideas than they have been used to indulge.

On this principle we may easily account for numerous cures, which are said to be owing to the waters; but the fact is, that nine-tenths of the company have no other object than pleasure in coming hither; and it must be allowed that no place in the world is better calculated to gratify them to the full, without inducing satiety.

The widest and grandest street in Bath, Great Pulteney Street, is here seen from the gateway of Sydney Place.

This is a view of the classical façade of the Pump Room, completed in 1799. The Pump Room, like the Assembly Rooms, was a center for social activity in Bath. While the Pump Room was ostensibly where people went to drink the renowned mineral water of Bath, it was also where people went to see and be seen. From nine in the morning until three in the afternoon, visitors promenaded in the room and took the waters, while an orchestra played.

This etching shows the “King’s Bath,” which was one of five communal hot springs of varying temperatures (the King’s Bath was the hottest, at 103 degrees). This bath was open to the viewing of all in the Pump Room. Patients of both sexes would wear brown linen suits and jackets, and they would sit in the waters side by side, much as they are depicted here.

Warm mineral water was sold by the glass in the Pump Room. The fountain was sourced from the King’s Bath, which could be seen from the Pump Room.

The New Assembly-Rooms, at the east end of the Circus, are spacious and elegant. They were built under the direction of the late John Wood, Esq. and furnished by subscription of 70 persons, and cost upwards of 20,000l. The first stone was laid the 24th of May 1769, by the said Mr. Wood, architect; and they were opened for the reception of company in October, 1771. The Ball-room is 100 feet 8 inches long, 42 feet 8 inches wide, and 42 feet 8 inches high. The two Card-rooms are, one an octagon of 48 feet diameter, the other 70 feet long and 27 wide. In the octagon Card-room is a fine portrait of Captain Wade late Master of the Ceremonies, painted by the late Mr. Gainsborough; and likewise a portrait of Richard Tyson esq. painted by Mr. James. Every room is superbly furnished with elegant chandeliers, girandoles, &c.

There are two Dress Balls every week, viz. on Monday at the New Rooms, and on Friday at the Lower Rooms. The subscription to the Upper Rooms is 1l. 4s. and to the Lower Rooms 1l. 1s. for which each subscriber has two tickets transferable to ladies only. Subscribers of 12s. receive one ticket not transferable.

There are also two Fancy Balls every week, viz. at the Lower Rooms on Tuesday, and at the New Rooms on Thursday; subscription 12s.; ticket not transferable. And nine Subscription Concerts, and three Choral Nights, in the winter at the New Rooms, on Wednesday under the direction of Mr. Rauzzini. A subscriber of three guineas and a half, is entitled to an admission ticket for the twelve concerts, not transferable, and to two tickets for each concert, transferable to ladies only. A subscriber of three guineas, is entitled to an admission ticket for the twelve concerts, not transferable, and one ticket transferable to a lady only, for each concert. A subscriber of two guineas is entitled to an admission ticket each concert night, not transferable. And for the accommodation of strangers, subscriptions are also received for part of the concerts on terms of proportion. Non-subscribers, 6s.

The following Rules and Regulations, published by each Master of the Ceremonies, are hung up in their respective Rooms:

New Assembly Rooms.

The following are the Rules and Regulations entered into by the Subscribers to the Dress-Balls:

Resolved, That the power of direction and control relative to the public amusements of these Rooms is in the subscribers to the Dress Balls, and them only.

That the weekly public amusements in these Rooms during the season, be as follow:

Monday Night, Dress Ball, / Wednesday Night, Concert,

Tuesday Night, Card Assembly. / Thursday Night, Fancy Ball.

N.B. The Rooms to be open every day, Sunday excepted, for Cards.

That a subscription of 1l. 4s. to the Dress Balls shall entitle such subscriber to an admission every ball night, and also to two tickets, transferable to ladies only.

That a subscription of 12s. to the Dress Balls shall entitle such subscriber to one ticket every night, not transferable. Young ladies and gentlemen at their school vacations will be admitted, under 12 years of age, when introduced by a subscriber.

That a subscription of 12s. to the Fancy Ball shall entitle the subscriber to one ticket every ball night, this ticket not transferable.

That the Dress and Fancy Balls shall begin as soon as possible after seven o’clock, and conclude precisely at eleven, even in the middle of a dance.

That in future every person, on admission to these Rooms on Dress and Fancy Ball nights, shall pay 6d. for tea.

That a reasonable time be allowed between the minuets and country dances, for ladies of precedence to take their places; and that those who shall stand up after the dance is begun must take their places for that dance at the bottom.

That no lady do permit another to come in above her, after she has taken her place in the set.

That, ladies who intend dancing minuets do wear lappet[s] and it is requested that the rest of their dress be as conformable as possible to this distinction, regard being had to the prevailing fashion of the times. It is also hoped that gentlemen will accommodate their dress to the ladies.

That three front seats, at the upper end of the room, be reserved for ladies of precedence of the rank of Peeress of the United Kingdom.

That the Gentlemen’s annual subscription for the use of the Card and Coffee-room, be one guinea—for two months, half-a-guinea.

That the Ladies subscription for the use of the Room every Tuesday evening during the season, for a Card Assembly be 5s.

That no person whatever be admitted a second time to the Card and Coffee-room who is not a subscriber.

That no gentleman in boots or half-boots be admitted into any of these Rooms on ball nights, or public card and concert nights. …

That the musical band of these Rooms do consist of twelve performers, including a harp, tabor, and pipe; each performer to be allowed a sum not exceeding half-a-guinea on each ball night for his attendance, which money is to be taken from the subscription of the respective balls. …

That no person be permitted to play with cards left by another party.

That no hazard or unlawful game of any sort be allowed in these rooms on any account whatever, or any cards on Sundays. …

As the great extension of the city puts it out of the power of the Master of the Ceremonies to be regularly informed of the several persons who arrive here, he hopes they will be so indulgent to him, as not to charge him with want of attention, if he should omit visiting them; and he thus publicly requests that they will, on their arrival, cause their names with their places of abode, to be inserted in a book kept at the Pump-room for that purpose, which will afford him such information as will enable him to comply with his own wishes, and the expectation of the public.

And as it is extremely desirable that all improper company may be kept from these Rooms, he requests also that all strangers, as well Ladies as Gentlemen, will give him an opportunity of being introduced to them, before they hold themselves entitled to that attention and respect, which he is ambitious, and ever will be studious to shew to every individual resorting to this place.

James King, Master of the Ceremonies.

Lower Assembly-Rooms, Oct.1, 1787.

Christopher Anstey’s satirical poem, named after the popular guide book The New Bath Guide, consists of a series of letters sent by members of a provincial family—the B-N-R-Ds, or Blunderheads—who go to Bath for the benefit of the waters.

from Letter 6

And of all the fine Sights I have seen, my dear Mother,

I never expect to behold such another:

How the Ladies did giggle and set up their Clacks,
All the while an old Woman was rubbing their Backs!
Oh ’twas pretty to see them all put on their Flannels,
And then take the Water like so many Spaniels,
And tho’ all the while it grew hotter and hotter,
They swam, just as if they were hunting an Otter;
’Twas a glorious Sight to behold the Fair Sex
All wading with gentlemen up to their Necks,
And view them so prettily tumble and sprawl
In a great smoaking Kettle as big as our Hall:
And To-Day many Persons of Rank and Condition
Were boil’d by Command of an able Physician,
Dean SPAVIN, Dean MANGEY, and Doctor DE’SQUIRT,
Were all sent from Cambridge to rub off their Dirt;
Judge SCRUB, and the worthy Counsellor PEST
Join’d Issue at once, and went in with the rest:
And this they all said was exceedingly good
For strength’ning the Spirits, and mending the Blood.

This ancient borough town [Lyme Regis] … stands in Dorset, but on the borders of Devon, distant about 143 miles from London. It is built on the declivity of a craggy hill, at the head of a little inlet of the sea, and contains many respectable-looking houses, with pleasant gardens, particularly in the upper part of the town; but the streets are steep, rugged, and unpleasant. In the lower part the houses are mean, and the streets so intricate, that a stranger, as has been wittily remarked, will sometimes find himself bewildered, as if he were entangled in a forest or the labyrinth of a fox-den. Here the lower order of the inhabitants in general reside, having that position which nature and fortune assigned them. To be a person of consideration at Lyme, it is necessary to toil up hill, and to fix one’s abode where it is in danger of being assailed by every wind that blows.

Altogether, however, Lyme is not an unpleasant place for company, in the bathing season; for whose use and accommodation several machines are erected on the beach, which is pebbly, and consequently uncomfortable for walking.

Lyme has a small Assembly-room, Card-room, and Billiard-table, conveniently arranged under one roof; and had the Library been joined to it, all the amusement which the place can furnish would have been comprised in one building. …

Magnificence is not essential to enjoyment: often more happiness is found in a cottage than in a palace; and the rooms at Lyme frequently exhibit as cheerful countenances as are to be seen at Bath or Brighton.

The Golden Lion and Three Cups are respectable Inns, and lodgings may generally be procured on easy terms. This town has a share of the Newfoundland and coasting trade, but both have long been on the decline. Properly speaking, Lyme has neither creek nor bay, road nor ruin; yet it has a harbor of the most singular construction, called the Cobb, where ships ride in perfect safety. The materials of a rude pier consist of vast stones, weighted out of the sea, and arranged in such a manner as to break the violence of the tide[.] …

[Lyme] is frequented principally by persons in the middle class of life, who go there, not always in search of their lost health, but as frequently perhaps to heal their wounded fortunes, or to replenish their exhausted revenues. …

Brighton, which was close to London, became a popular spa town in the late eighteenth century. The Old Steyne was the town’s central promenade for visitors. John Feltham describes it as follows in A Guide to all the Watering and Bathing Places for 1813:

[N]o place in the kingdom is more frequented by beauty and fashion, during the mornings and evenings in the season; when a small but select band performs for their amusement, in a neat orchestra.

This place, which, in the memory of our grandfathers was only a little insignificant town, on a corner of the coast little frequented, is now become fashionable, elegant, and universally known. Till lately it had the name of Brighthelmstone; but, like low persons rising to eminence, who are often ashamed of their origin, it has now assumed the title of Brighton, which certainly has a more genteel sound, and “passes trippingly o’er the tongue.”

In the early nineteenth century, Brighton became known as “the Prince’s town,” and it became associated not only with the Prince Regent but also with his excesses. This excess was exemplified in the Marine Pavilion, the prince’s palace on the Steyne. Built in 1787, it was designed to look like an Indian palace and furnished with Chinese décor. The Prince Regent’s “set” spent their summers at the Pavilion, and the house became the center of fashionable social life in the town.

In this book consisting of 12 colored plates with accompanying verses, a young upper-class girl is shown developing both the accomplishments necessary for social success and the virtuous feelings that, the book argues, alone can create the foundation for true elegance. Several plates from the book are reproduced below with their accompanying verses.

Frontispiece

Reading to Improve the Mind

Her prayers said she soon is drest
Not caring what becomes her best,
Her aim is of a nobler kind
By study to improve her mind,
To turn the leaf of history o’er
And arts and sciences explore.

Charity

But what a picture here is given!
O Charity, meek child of Heaven!
May all the rich thy virtues feel,
And learn this lesson at each meal:
To clothe the naked, feed the poor,
Nor drive the beggar from their door.

Piano Lesson

Her Master pointing to the book,
Attention marks her steady look.
His lesson is not thrown away,
By science taught with taste to play.
She’ll charm ere while the list’ning throng,
And sing with modest grace her song.

Drawing

Though first the humble copyist stands,
And lessons learns from other hands,
Improvement soon will nurture hope,
And time will give her talents scope.
The glowing landscape to design,
Or paint the human face divine.

Visiting the Poor

To visit a poor cottage dame,
One summer’s evening Laura came
Of viands brought a little treat,
And placed a bottle at her feet,
Whilst Dash her faithful dog appears,
With anxious looks and listening ears.

James Fordyce’s collection of sermons was enormously popular and influential; in its first year of publication alone it reached six editions (the following text is drawn from the third edition), and it remained in print until the early twentieth century. By the time Austen read his work, however, the style—and to some extent the contents—of the sermons were felt by many to be both cumbersome and outdated.

In A Vindication of the Rights of Woman (1792), Mary Wollstonecraft criticizes Fordyce’s Sermons as infantilizing, and as contrary to her own argument that women should be educated to be rational, strong, and independent:

Dr. Fordyce may have had a very laudable end in view; but these discourses are written in such an affected style, that were it only on that account, and had I nothing to object against his mellifluous precepts, I should not allow girls to peruse them, unless I designed to hunt every spark of nature out of their composition, melting every human quality into female meekness and artificial grace. I say artificial, for true grace arises from some kind of independence of mind.

Wollstonecraft does, however, admit that the Sermons contain “many sensible observations,” even while she fiercely objects to their overall tendency to portray the ideal woman as a “house slave.”

from Sermon 1. On the Importance of the Female Sex, especially the Younger Part

When a daughter, it may be a favourite daughter, turns out unruly, foolish, wanton; when she disobeys her parents, disgraces her education, dishonours her sex, disappoints the hopes she has raised; when she throws herself away on a man unworthy of her, or if disposed, yet by his or her situation unqualified, to make her happy; what her parents in any of these cases must necessarily suffer, we may conjecture, they alone can feel.

The world, I know not how, overlooks in our sex a thousand irregularities, which it never forgives in yours; so that the honour and peace of a family are, in this view, much more dependant on the conduct of daughters than of sons; and one young lady going astray shall subject her relations to such discredit and distress, as the united good conduct of all her brothers and sisters, supposing them numerous, shall scarce ever be able to repair. But I press not any further an argument so exceedingly plain. We can prognosticate nothing virtuous, nothing happy, concerning those wretched creatures of either sex, that do not feel for the satisfaction, ease, or honour of their parents.

Another and a principal source of your importance is the very great and extensive influence which you, in general, have with Our sex. There is in female youth an attraction, which every man of the least sensibility must perceive. If assisted by beauty, it becomes in the first impression irresistible. Your power so far we do not affect to conceal. That He who made us meant it thus, is manifest from his having attempered our hearts to such emotions. Would to God you knew how to improve this power to its noblest ends! We should then rejoice to see it increased: then indeed it would be increased of course. Youth and beauty set off with sweetness and virtue, capacity and discretion—what have not they accomplished?

Far be it from me, my fair hearers, to damp your spirits, or to wish in the least to abridge your triumphs: on the contrary, by assisting you to direct, we would contribute to exalt and extend them. We are always sorry when we see them misplaced or abused; and—I was going to add, there is nothing more common. To give them their just direction, is truly a nice point. Power, from whatever source derived, is always in danger of turning the head. It has turned many an old one. What then shall become of a young woman, placed on such a precipice? What can balance or preserve her, but sobriety and caution, a good providence, and good advice? …

If men discover that you study to captivate them by an outside only, or by little frivolous arts, there are, it must be confessed, many of them who will rejoice at the discovery; and while they themselves seem taken by the lure, they will endeavour in reality to make you their prey. Some more sentimental spirits, who might be dazzled in the beginning, will be soon disabused; and a few more honourable characters will scorn to take advantage of your folly. Folly most undoubtedly it is, by a wrong application of your force, to lose the substance for the shadow.

Now and then a giddy youth may be caught. But what is the shallow admiration of an hundred such, or the smooth address of artful destroyers, to the heart-felt respect of men of worth and discernment, or the well-earned praise of reclaiming were it but one offender? I verily believe you might reclaim a multitude. I can hardly conceive that any man would be able to withstand the soft persuasion of your words, but chiefly of your looks and actions, habitually exerted on the side of goodness.

“Were Virtue,” said an ancient philosopher, “to appear amongst men in visible shape, what vehement desires would she enkindle!” Virtue exhibited without affectation by a lovely young person, of improved understanding and gentle manners, may be said to appear with the most alluring aspect, surrounded by the Graces; and that breast must be cold indeed which does not take fire at the sight!

The influence of the sexes is, no doubt, reciprocal; but I must ever be of opinion, that yours is the greatest. How often have I seen a company of men who were disposed to be riotous, checked all at once into decency by the accidental entrance of an amiable woman; while her good sense and obliging deportment charmed them into at least a temporary conviction, that there is nothing so beautiful as female excellence, nothing so delightful as female conversation in its best form!

Were such conviction frequently repeated, (and it would be frequently repeated, if such excellence and such conversation were more general) what might we not expect from it at last? In the mean time, it were easy to point out instances of the most evident reformation wrought on particular men, by their having happily conceived a passion for virtuous women: but among the least valuable of your sex, when have you known any that were amended by the society or example of the better part of ours? …

Understanding and virtue, by being often contemplated in the most engaging lights, have a sort of assimilating power. I do not mean, that the men I speak of will become feminine; but their sentiments and deportment will contract a grace. Their principles will have nothing ferocious or forbidding; their affections will be chaste and soothing at the same instant.

from Sermon 4: On Female Virtue

When entertainment is made the vehicle of instruction, nothing surely can be more harmless, agreeable, or useful. To prohibit young minds the perusal of any writings, where wisdom addresses the affections in the language of the imagination, may be sometimes well meant, but must be always injudicious. Some such writings undoubtedly there are; the offspring of real genius enlightened by knowledge of the world, and prompted, it is to be hoped, by zeal for the improvement of youth.

Happy indeed, beyond the vulgar story-telling tribe, and highly to be praised, is he who, to fine sensibilities and a lively fancy superadding clear and comprehensive views of men and manners, writes to the heart with simplicity and chasteness, through a series of adventures well conducted, and relating chiefly to scenes in ordinary life; where the solid joys of Virtue, and her sacred sorrows, are strongly contrasted with the hollowness and the horrors of vice; where, by little and unexpected yet natural incidents of the tender and domestic kind, so peculiarly fitted to touch the soul, the most important lessons are impressed, and the most generous sentiments awakened; where, to say no more, distress occasioned often by indiscretions, consistent with many degrees of worth, yet clouding it for the time, is worked up into a storm, such as to call forth the principles of fortitude and wisdom, confirming and brightening them by that exertion; till at length the bursting tempest is totally, or in a great measure dispelled, so that the hitherto suspended and agitated reader is either relieved entirely, and delighted even to transport, or has left upon his mind at the conclusion a mixture of virtuous sadness, which serves to fasten the moral deeper, and to produce an unusual sobriety in all his passions.

Amongst the few works of this kind which I have seen, I cannot but look on those of Mr. Richardson as well entitled to the first rank; an author, of whom an indisputable judge has with equal truth and energy pronounced, “that he taught the passions to move at the command of reason.” …

Beside the beautiful productions of that incomparable pen, there seem to me to be very few, in the style of Novel, that you can read with safety, and yet fewer that you can read with advantage. What shall we say of certain books, which we are assured (for we have not read them) are in their nature so shameful, in their tendency so pestiferous, and contain such rank treason against the royalty of Virtue, such horrible violation of all decorum, that she who can bear to peruse them must in her soul be a prostitute, let her reputation in life be what it will. But can it be true—say, ye chaste stars, that with innumerable eyes inspect the midnight behaviour of mortals—can it be true, that any young woman, pretending to decency, should endure for a moment to look on this infernal brood of futility and lewdness?

Nor do we condemn those writings only, that, with an effrontery which defies the laws of God and man, carry on their very forehead the mark of the beast. We consider the general run of Novels as utterly unfit for you. Instruction they convey none. They paint scenes of pleasure and passion altogether improper for you to behold, even with the mind’s eye. Their descriptions are often loose and luscious in a high degree; their representations of love between the sexes are almost universally overstrained. All is dotage, or despair; or else ranting swelled into burlesque. In short, the majority of their lovers are either mere lunatics, or mock-heroes. A sweet sensibility, a charming tenderness, a delightful anguish, exalted generosity, heroic worth, and refinement of thought; how seldom are these best ingredients of virtuous love mixed with any judgment or care in the composition of their principal characters!

In the Old Romance the passion appeared with all its enthusiasm. But then it was the enthusiasm of honour; for love and honour were there the same. The men were sincere, magnanimous, and noble; the women were patterns of chastity, dignity, and affection. They were only to be won by real heroes; and this title was founded in protecting, not in betraying, the sex. The proper merit with them consisted in the display of disinterested goodness, undaunted fortitude, and unalterable fidelity. The turn of those books was influenced by the genius of the times in which they were composed; as that, on the other hand, was nourished by them. The characters they drew were, no doubt, often heightened beyond nature; and the incidents they related, it is certain, were commonly blended with the most ridiculous extravagance. At present, however, I believe they may be read with perfect safety, if indeed there be any who choose to look into them.

The times in which we live are in no danger of adopting a system of romantic virtue. The parents of the present generation, what with selling their sons and daughters in marriage, and what with teaching them by every possible means the glorious principles of avarice, have contrived pretty effectually to bring down from its former flights that idle, youthful, unprofitable passion, which has for its object personal attractions, in preference to all the wealth in the world. With the successful endeavours of those profoundly politic parents, the levity of dissipation, the vanity of parade, and the fury of gaming, now so prevalent, have concurred to cure completely in the fashionable of both sexes any tendency to mutual fondness.

from Sermon 5: On Female Virtue, Friendship, and Conversation

Having mentioned Wit, let me proceed to warn you against the affectation and the abuse of it. Here our text from the Colossians comes in with propriety, “Let your Speech be always with Grace, seasoned with Salt.” These remarkable words were addressed to Christians in general. They are considered by the best commentators, as an exhortation to that kind of converse, which, both for matter and manner, shall appear most graceful, and prove most acceptable; being tempered by courteousness and modesty, seasoned with wisdom and discretion, that like salt will serve at the same instant, to prevent its corruption and heighten its flavour. How beautiful this precept in itself! How useful and pleasing in the practice! How peculiarly fit to be practised by you, my female friends, on the turn of whose conversation and deportment so much depends to yourselves, and all about you! From what I have now to offer, it will be found likewise to come, with advantage, in aid of our leading doctrine; since there are not perhaps many worse foes to that Sobriety of spirit, which we would still inculcate, than the abuse and affectation already mentioned.

It is not my design to gather up, if I could, the profusion of flowers that have been scattered by innumerable hands on this tempting theme; and by which those very hands have, in their own case, shown how difficult it is to resist the temptation. I would only observe, that the dangerous talent in question his been well compared to the dancing of a meteor, that blazes, allures, and misleads. Most certainly it alone can never be a steady light; and too probably it is often a fatal one. Of those who have resigned themselves to its guidance, how few has it not betrayed into great indiscretions at least, by inflaming their thirst of applause; by rendering them little nice in their choice of company; by seducing them into strokes of satire, too offensive to the persons against whom they were levelled, not to be repelled upon the authors with full vengeance and finally, by making them, in consequence of that heat which produces, and that vanity which fosters it, forgetful of those cool and moderate rules that ought to regulate their conduct!

A very few there may have been, endowed with judgment and temper sufficient to restrain them from indulging “the rash dexterity of wit,” and to direct it to purposes equally agreeable and beneficial. But one thing is certain, that witty men for the most part have had few friends, though many admirers. Their conversation has been courted, while their abilities have been feared, or their characters hated, or both. In truth the last have seldom merited affection, even when the first have excited esteem. Sometimes their hearts have been so bad, as at length to bring their heads into disgrace. At any rate, the faculty termed Wit is commonly looked upon with a suspicious eye, as a two-edged sword, from which not even the sacredness of friendship can secure. It is especially, I think, dreaded in women. … If aught on earth can present the image of celestial excellence in its softest array, it is surely an accomplished Woman, in whom purity and meekness, intelligence and modesty, mingle their charms. But when I speak on this subject, need I tell you, that men of the best sense have been usually averse to the thought of marrying a witty female?

You will probably tell me, they were afraid of being outshone; and some of them perhaps might be so. But I am apt to believe, that many of them acted on different motives. Men who understand the science of domestic happiness, know that its very first principle is ease. Of that indeed we grow fonder, in whatever condition, as we advance in life, and as the heat of youth abates. But we cannot be easy, where we are not safe. We are never safe in the company of a critic; and almost every wit is a critic by profession. In such company we are not at liberty to unbend ourselves. All must be the straining of study, or the anxiety of apprehension: how painful! Where the heart may not expand and open itself with freedom, farewell to real friendship, farewell to convivial delight! But to suffer this restraint at home, what misery! From the brandishings of wit in the hand of ill-nature, of imperious passion, or of unbounded vanity, who would not flee? But when that weapon is pointed at a husband, is it to be wondered if from his own house he takes shelter in the tavern? He sought a soft friend; he expected to be happy in a reasonable companion. He has found a perpetual satirist, or a self-sufficient prattler. How have I pitied such a man, when I have seen him in continual fear on his own account, and that of his friends, and for the poor lady herself; lest, in the run of her discourse, she should be guilty of some petulance, or some indiscretion that would expose her and hurt them all! But take the matter at the best; there is still all the difference in the world between the entertainer of an evening, and a partner for life. Of the latter a sober mind, steady attachment, and gentle manners, joined to a good understanding, will ever be the chief recommendations; whereas the qualities that sparkle will be often sufficient for the former.

As to the affectation of wit, one can hardly say, whether it be most ridiculous or hurtful. The abuse of it, which we have been just considering, we are sometimes, perhaps too often, inclined to forgive, for the sake of that amusement which in spite of all the improprieties mentioned, it yet affords. The other is universally contemptible and odious. Who is not shocked by the flippant impertinence of a self-conceited woman, that wants to dazzle by the supposed superiority of her powers? If you, my fair ones, have knowledge and capacity; let it be seen, by your not affecting to show them, that you have something much more valuable, humility and wisdom.

from Sermon 8, On Female Virtue, with Intellectual Accomplishments

What numbers of miserable beings are now lost there [in a thicket of guilt and wretchedness], whose first deviations were occasioned by nothing more than a desire of escaping from inactivity or dullness to something that might divert or employ! But had an early love of books prevented this languor, by furnishing at home a harmless and varied entertainment, such as was adapted to give play even to the liveliest imagination, there had been evidently much less inducement to seek it abroad; and many a soul that is at this day hurrying on to destruction, might probably, in that case, have been walking with Wisdom and Happiness. Nor would I have you think, that I speak of those only, who have broke through all the restraints of decorum. There are a thousand tracks leading to sin and woe, beside that infamous road to which the hand of public censure is pointed.

The supposing, indeed, so wide a distance between the extremities of guilt and its intermediate stages, is among the most natural mistakes of a mind destitute of knowledge. Of this internal light one of the great advantages is, to throw such illumination on virtue and vice through all their essential, and even many of their minute distinctions, as to make them be discerned with clearness, and felt with conviction; while there rise up to view nameless beauties in holiness, and nameless deformities in sin, that pass unheeded by the dim inattentive eye of an understanding uninformed. This delicacy of perception alone, in a breast not yet corrupted by evil custom, will create a salutary dread of many pursuits and connexions that often prove exceedingly hurtful. In general, it seems obvious, that by how much more we are acquainted with our duty, by so much the juster apprehensions we shall have of its importance, and by so much the greater capacity for performing it.

But the grand use of an affection for knowledge, as to the point before us, is that of preventing idleness and dissipation, which it certainly does where such affection is properly regulated, and this cannot be repeated too frequently, nor pressed too powerfully. The human mind was made for action. In virtuous action consists its highest enjoyment. It will not, it cannot continue long unemployed, especially during the sprightly season of youth. … But now there are many young ladies, whose situation does not supply a sphere of domestic exercise sufficient to fill up that part of their time, which is not necessarily appropriated to female occupations and innocent amusements. What then shall they do with it, or with themselves, if books be not called in to their assistance? Pursue the enquiry in your own minds. Many of you, alas! Are but too well qualified to pursue it, can but too well imagine the insipid, foolish, and even pernicious expedients, which under those circumstances are daily practised for killing time and thought.

In truth, it cannot appear surprising to see those who have no notion of internal entertainment, hunting after fashionable diversions. For my part, I am only surprised, when those who from a better education have had opportunities of knowing what an extent and diversity of ideas and imagery, of information the most grateful to the mind, and of description the most affecting to the heart, may be found in a well chosen library; when such, I say, do yet prefer to all this the hollowness and dullness, which inseparably attend a perpetual train of public amusements, or private visiting.

But I am inclined to hope, that a preference so unjust and unwise, is seldom made by those last mentioned; that they who have tasted the pleasure of conversing intimately with the best authors living and dead, and from this happy commerce have contracted an intellectual turn, will not be often tempted to mingle with the unthinking crowd. When, for the sake of unbending the mind more entirely, and avoiding any unnecessary air of singularity, they do at any time join it; the same turn will contribute to preserve them from the seduction of vice and folly. …

Young people, we know, are often corrupted by bad books; and have we not likewise known them improved by good ones? She must be depraved and sunk indeed, who from contemplating the majesty and happiness of Virtue in the best examples, together with the meanness and misery of Vice in the worst, that history or poetry holds up to view, can go away, and in her own deportment counteract immediately the feelings of love and admiration for the one, of contempt and abhorrence for the other, which objects of this kind must unavoidably awaken. She again, who should not perceive herself prompted to a prudent and amiable demeanour, or guarded against the contrary, by those pictures of discretion and excellence on one hand, of levity and worthlessness on the other, with which sentimental and moral writers abound, must be absolutely void of decency, or of reflexion. To instance but in one subject more; she must be wholly given up to trifles that can pursue them with the same fondness, after having her imagination raised, and all her faculties expanded, by those wonderful representations of the works of God, which are contained in many books of Philosophy and Geography, Voyages and Travels.

But now represent to yourselves a young lady, whose understanding is utterly uncultivated. What is there to correct her passions, or to govern her practise? What is there to direct her in her choice of companions, and diversions; to guard her against the follies of her own sex, and the arts of ours; in short, to prevent her falling into any or every snare, that is or may be laid for her? …

A young woman so worthily, and so happily engaged [with books], will not find leisure for unnecessary trifles and idle parade: or if it were possible she should, a conscious superiority will enable her very much to despise them. Endowed with her powers of pleasing, she will not find herself reduced to the little tricks played off by many of her sex. In the company of her friends, she must ever appear with peculiar advantage. In other companies, where she least thinks of appearing, an agreeable tincture of intelligence, an easy correctness of expression, if it should be proper for her to take any part in the discourse, will still diffuse themselves. Perhaps too she will deliver herself with a graceful, though modest freedom. Her letters, or any other composition that may fall from her pen, will be read with particular eagerness and approbation; her correspondence will be prized as an honour, and her acquaintance courted as a privilege; attention will hang upon her words, and respect follow in her train. Such a woman will know how to entertain and charm, beyond the duration of an hour. …

I have always remarked that women of capacity and elegance have possessed the hearts of their husbands in a degree which is not common; I mean, where those husbands had any worth or discernment. You will easily imagine, that I suppose the women in question too wise, and too excellent, to affect superiority; or not to give their partners all the credit and consequence possible, on every occasion. Between men and women there is seldom any rivalship in what relates merely to intellect, nor are the former ever much hurt by any conscious inferiority in that respect, where the latter do no show themselves, especially before company, arrogant or pretending. …

Permit me, my much loved hearers, to succeed. Defer not, by the cultivation of your minds, as well as hearts, to lay in a store of enjoyment and comfort, such as you can repair to in secret, when all abroad is unsolacing and insipid.

Gambling and card playing were ubiquitous during the Regency, from card tables in the drawing room after dinner to men’s clubs in London that were dedicated primarily to cards. In this cartoon, Rowlandson depicts a gathering of men playing Hazard—a dice game—around a gambling table. A fight is erupting over a disagreement following a loss, showing the chaos and destruction that gambling can bring about. Rowlandson himself gambled away his inheritance and was impoverished by 1793.

Huge fortunes were lost at cards during the period, and certain clubs and gambling houses—often referred to as “Hells”—were notorious, including Watier’s and White’s. The Prince Regent and elite trend-setter Beau Brummell were both extravagant gamblers, which, in Brummell’s case, led eventually to ruination and exile.

Several ladies of fashion also ran gambling tables from their houses, including Lady Buckinghamshire and Lady Archer, as well as the ladies depicted here, Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire and Henrietta Ponsonby, Viscountess Duncannon. The Prince of Wales is also in this drawing, wearing the Order of the Garter. They are playing Hazard, and the second die is about to be cast, a moment of high anticipation.