CALL ON ME
When a society lady shows up at Ella Shane's Washington Square townhouse one afternoon in A FATAL OVERTURE, Ella says: "She probably thinks I'm at home."
"You ARE at home," says her cousin Tommy.
"Not that kind of at home," Ella replies, reminding Tommy of one more custom they didn't learn as poor children on the Lower East Side.
In the tonier parts of town, society ladies were "at home" at particular times to entertain visitors, and a complex code of etiquette governed the process of calling.
A formal call usually took place in the late morning or early afternoon, and was likely the first event on a lady's schedule. (Remember, she'd probably been up into the wee hours for dinner, dancing, and opera and she needed her beauty sleep!)
Usually, the most socially prominent woman was the hostess, and women hoping to break into her circle would call on her, or try to do so. That's not a whiff of snobbery -- it's a giant toxic cloud!
More, unless you were arriving with an introduction, a connection, or something that trumped everything, like a title, the lady in question might not be "at home" to you on the given day. The social dance often began with a hopeful new arrival leaving her cards at the important matron's home with no hope of a meeting...and eventually being graced with a return card letting her know when the matron is "at home."
By Ella's time, those cards could be extravagant, with pictures and illustrations, gold print and more, and the expensive embellishment was the point. Though, of course, one would want to see what was "done" at the moment, because every step in the process allowed for a potentially fatal mistake.
At least, late 19th century social climbers didn't have to fold their cards. From the 18th century to the mid-Victorian era, there were rules for turning down corners of the card to convey anything from condolence to congratulations. But they changed over time, and finally fell out of favor, maybe because people didn't want to crumple those fancy cards.
What didn't change was the protocol for the visit.
If you were calling or visiting, you -- and possibly a marrigeable daughter -- would appear at the lady's home at the appointed hour in your best afternoon clothes. Nothing too over the top, though. By the late 19th century, everyone knew what nouveau riche looked like, and it was as grave a social sin as showing up in calico.
Assuming you were granted the great privilege of a visit, a footman, probably in livery, would conduct you to the drawing room. There, you would make appropriately polite and deferential conversation for your allotted twenty minutes. As a sign of favor, not to mention an additional social minefield, you might be offered tea. You would of course accept and consume it in the most graceful fashion possible. Or else.
Of course, it was all a performance to make sure you would mix suitably in that social circle, and if you passed muster, further invitations would be forthcoming. If not, you might as well move to a different city. And that's how the game was played.
No wonder Ella takes particular pleasure in serving tea and comeuppance to her society visitor in A FATAL OVERTURE!
Got a #ThrowbackThursday idea? Drop it in the comments!
"You ARE at home," says her cousin Tommy.
"Not that kind of at home," Ella replies, reminding Tommy of one more custom they didn't learn as poor children on the Lower East Side.
In the tonier parts of town, society ladies were "at home" at particular times to entertain visitors, and a complex code of etiquette governed the process of calling.
A formal call usually took place in the late morning or early afternoon, and was likely the first event on a lady's schedule. (Remember, she'd probably been up into the wee hours for dinner, dancing, and opera and she needed her beauty sleep!)
Usually, the most socially prominent woman was the hostess, and women hoping to break into her circle would call on her, or try to do so. That's not a whiff of snobbery -- it's a giant toxic cloud!
More, unless you were arriving with an introduction, a connection, or something that trumped everything, like a title, the lady in question might not be "at home" to you on the given day. The social dance often began with a hopeful new arrival leaving her cards at the important matron's home with no hope of a meeting...and eventually being graced with a return card letting her know when the matron is "at home."
By Ella's time, those cards could be extravagant, with pictures and illustrations, gold print and more, and the expensive embellishment was the point. Though, of course, one would want to see what was "done" at the moment, because every step in the process allowed for a potentially fatal mistake.
At least, late 19th century social climbers didn't have to fold their cards. From the 18th century to the mid-Victorian era, there were rules for turning down corners of the card to convey anything from condolence to congratulations. But they changed over time, and finally fell out of favor, maybe because people didn't want to crumple those fancy cards.
What didn't change was the protocol for the visit.
If you were calling or visiting, you -- and possibly a marrigeable daughter -- would appear at the lady's home at the appointed hour in your best afternoon clothes. Nothing too over the top, though. By the late 19th century, everyone knew what nouveau riche looked like, and it was as grave a social sin as showing up in calico.
Assuming you were granted the great privilege of a visit, a footman, probably in livery, would conduct you to the drawing room. There, you would make appropriately polite and deferential conversation for your allotted twenty minutes. As a sign of favor, not to mention an additional social minefield, you might be offered tea. You would of course accept and consume it in the most graceful fashion possible. Or else.
Of course, it was all a performance to make sure you would mix suitably in that social circle, and if you passed muster, further invitations would be forthcoming. If not, you might as well move to a different city. And that's how the game was played.
No wonder Ella takes particular pleasure in serving tea and comeuppance to her society visitor in A FATAL OVERTURE!
Got a #ThrowbackThursday idea? Drop it in the comments!
No comments have been added yet.
