The Pitfalls of New Year’s Day Calls: 1876-1897

New-Year’s Day, Harper’s Bazar, 2 January 1869

Mr. Finkhouser’s Experience as a New Year’s Caller, as Chronicled by Himself.

Young Mr. Finkhouser could have cried with vexation when he got out of bed on New Year’s morning and saw the weather. His heart came right up into his throat, and he only swallowed it by a prodigious effort. He had planned somewhat less than a thousand calls that day, and his line march, as projected, was little less than  Sherman’s march to the sea. He moped, and sulked, and swore under his breath, nearly all the morning, and it was not until nearly noon that he reflected that the carriage he had engaged for the occasion was drawing pay right along, improving every drizzling hour. Then he braced up and determined to call any how. And he arrayed himself in fine broadcloth and linen and went down stairs, and there, sure enough, was the waiting carriage, floating around in the street with a drowned man on the box. Mr. Finkhouser climbed and was slowly dragged away.

We did not have the pleasure of accompanying Mr. Finkhouser on this eventful journey, and his own account of its events were somewhat too confused to be implicitly relied on. But his diary was taken from his breast pocket and its brief entries afforded an interesting study of the gradual transition from the cold formalities and conventionalities of the first calls to the cordiality and hearty friendliness and intimacy of the later and closing calls. Mr. Finkhouser was not an old veteran caller, this being his first New Year’s out, and his diary is all the more interesting on that account. It appears that Mr. Finkhouser, anxious to improve, made an entry of his salutations as soon as he returned to the carriage from each visit, and it is quite apparent that he did his best to improve on every effort. And here is the way he improved:

11:15 A.M. – “Ah-haw-aw, yes, yes. Happy New Year, Miss Dresseldorf. Happy New Year. Happy New Year; many happy returns of the day. Haw, yes, to be sure. Good morning.

11:25 A.M. — “Miss McKerrel, permit me to wish you a happy new year. Tears and clouds in the outside world, smiles and light wherever you are. Thank you. I shall be only too much honored.

It was evident that Mr. Finkhouser thought he had just about got it, as all his subsequent efforts were modeled upon this one. Note by the translator.

11:50 A.M. “Ah, my dear Miss Ballana hack, I have the inexpressible felicity to wish you a happy New Year. The light and smiles of your presence dislocates the sombre clouds and dismal tears of the weather god.”

12:40 – “My dear Mish Binnington, I have thinexpressible felicity t’wish you a happy New Year. The smiles and light, f’your presences dispates the sombre clouds and dismal tears of th’ weather god.”

2:30 p.m.—“Ah! Mdear Mish Washingham, f’y ‘low me t’call you so. I have inexpressible flicity t’wish you Happy New Year. Thlight an schmilesh f’your bri’ presence dishpate the sombre clouds an’ dismal tear of th’ weather god.”

3:45 p.m.—“Howdy, howdy, Mish Milleroy! Wish may have th’ flictable expressitive t’wish ye hampy n’y’er, fack! Th’ bri’ shimlesh an’ light f’your preselece dishlocates clomber souds an’ tearful dismals of threather gog!”

4:30 p.m.—“Howja fine y’self? ic! ‘m all rt. Have ‘nfeliseible ‘spression t’wishye haply newy’r. Hoopee doodle! I guess not! Shimleh f’your presesh dishlocatesh weather gog! Goodby, gubby. Bo good t’yersef.”

And at this point the entries, which continue some distance further, become unintelligible.

Janesville [WI] Daily Gazette 10 January 1876: p. 1

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: In Gilded Age America, the making and receiving of New Year’s Day calls was something of a competitive sport. Society ladies boasted of the number of their callers, while young dandies boasted of their numerous visitations and of the liquid refreshments they had consumed. Mr Finkhouser was unusual only in his candid description of the inevitable dishpation resulting from a day’s rounds.

Drink was only one of the attractions of New Year’s Day receptions; eligible young ladies were the objective of multiple beaux, who flitted in and out, bestowing compliments and bonbons in this early version of “speed-dating.”

[T]he Sunday papers of the time began to print lists of those who would receive, and the houses of those mentioned in the lists were sure to be besieged by numbers of men whom the ladies had never met or heard of and desired never to meet again. Men would go calling in couples and parties, and even in droves of thirty or more, remaining as short a time at each stopping place as possible, and announcing everywhere how many calls they had already made and how many they expected to make before they finished. At every place they drank, and at each place, of course, a different brand of wine. The result was a most appalling assortment of “jags” long before sundown, and a crowding of the police stations at night. Naturally enough the second day of January was always a field day in the police courts, and the judges, some of whom probably had post-calling headaches themselves, were wont to mark S.S. for “sentence suspended,” after the name of every one who could show that he had made a beast of himself in the observance of the “good old Knickerbocker custom.”

The Fort Payne [AL] Journal 6 January 1897: p. 4

Mrs Daffodil wishes all of her readers every good thing in the New Year!

Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,” where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdote

You may read about a sentimental succubus, a vengeful seamstress’s ghost, Victorian mourning gone horribly wrong, and, of course, Mrs Daffodil’s efficient tidying up after a distasteful decapitation in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales.

The Thirty-Pound Christmas Turkey: 1893

HAUNTED BY A TURKEY

How the Christmas Present of Thirty Pound Bird Destroyed a Man’s Peace of Mind.

There was an expression of despondency and care on the face of my friend Craggs when, a few days after Christmas, he took me aside and inquired in a quavering voice if I would take the gift of a turkey. He had a discouraged and almost hopeless air, as though he feared I was going to refuse to accept it.

“Thanks, old man,” said I, “I’ll take it and welcome.”

If he had been a street vendor and I had said, “I’ll buy your flowers,” he couldn’t have looked happier.

I could see that something was burdening his mind, but of course had no idea that it was the turkey itself.

He suddenly broke down all at once, grasped me by the hand and said huskily that it was a kindness he would never forget; that he would do as much for me some time, and went on in that style till I began to half fancy that in a fit of temporary insanity he might have stolen a turkey and was trying to get rid of the property in this way.

Then it occurred to me that I might have misunderstood him and he had really asked me to give him a turkey—which, of course, I couldn’t do, for obvious reasons—and the cold chills began to creep up my back.

For a moment it was perhaps the oddest predicament I was ever in. Then my friend Craggs regained his composure and explained himself this wise:

“You see, old fellow,” said he, “I have a turkey that’s an elephant on my hands—an incubus—a monster, and it all came about in this way.

“My wife and I keep house alone by ourselves, and on Christmas Day we had a turkey dinner. The turkey was a modest bird, who had never aspired to be a giant, but had contented himself with remaining juicy and tender.

“As a result of these modest aspirations and achievements of the fowl there remained of him after our Christmas dinner just enough to satisfy our appetites for turkey for some time to come in the way of perhaps another dinner and a few scraps for lunch.

“At this juncture, however, a package arrived at our house addressed to me, which upon being opened, proved to contain a turkey of herculean proportions, sent to me by a sister who lives out of the city on a farm.

“It was a regular Jack Falstaff of a turkey—the biggest I ever laid eyes on—with drumsticks bulging like hams, and a mighty corpulency withal, which told of good living and boundless ambitions in the matter of fat.

“Mrs. Craggs, being a thrifty housewife, was of course, delighted, but I am bound to confess that, though having a sneaking fondness for my stomach, I could not figure it out otherwise than this: That, there being but two of us to eat a turkey which would tip the scales at nearly thirty pounds, here was a prospect of having to endure that diet for weeks.

“I saw that it needs must follow, as the night the day, that that confounded turkey, in some form or other, either roasted or boiled or fried or chopped or fricasseed or mashed or hashed, would form the basis of my daily meals for days and perhaps weeks.

“I even feared, in which case, that the flavour of turkey might get so indelibly absorbed into my palate that it would never die away, forever casting a blighting flavor upon all my favorite dishes.

It took me hours to convince Mrs. Craggs that it was our best interests to give that turkey to some one of our friends. Then I felt relieved, but I soon found that my troubles had only commenced. It was too soon after Christmas, and the turkey was too big. Not one of my friends wanted to take a contract to cook and eat that bird. They were tired of turkey already, they said.

“As it was a present I couldn’t think of selling it. The awful fact stared me in the face that I had got to eat that turkey or bust—perhaps both, in natural sequence.

“I’ve been chasing around all day carrying, mentally, that turkey, but I’ve got you in my clutches at last, and you shall not escape me. But come, first, and we’ll open a small bottle.”

New York [NY] Herald 31 December 1893: p. 14

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: Mrs Daffodil is reminded of the axiom: “Eternity is a ham and two people.”

Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,” where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdotes

You may read about a sentimental succubus, a vengeful seamstress’s ghost, Victorian mourning gone horribly wrong, and, of course, Mrs Daffodil’s efficient tidying up after a distasteful decapitation in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales.

Casts of Hands a Christmas Fad: 1896

Sculpture. Cast of the right hand of Felix Mendelssohn (1809-1847). Hand resting on an oval base. In glass topped case with tortoiseshell frame. Plaster, cast, height, plaster, 6.5, cm, width, plaster, 14 cm, length, plaster, 24 cm, before 1903. 18th-early 19th century. English.

Christmas Fad Among Eastern Women.

A novelty which will take the place of the framed photograph or other personal gift as a Christmas remembrance for intimate friends and admirers, is a plaster cast which is an exact reproduction of the hand of the giver. Such a gift from his sweetheart would certainly be highly prized by the fond lover, for though the clasp of this image of the real is, as it were, but second-hand, it is at least a reminder of blissful first hand pressures of the past.

This new fad, however, has more than a merely romantic interest. The admirers of clever politicians, eloquent preachers and successful writers are vying with one another for the possession of facsimiles of the hands of their favorites. Casts of the hand of President-elect McKinley are very much in demand, and Mr. Bryan still stretches out his hand in effigy over the heads of his admirers.

Alabaster hand with rose. Former eBay listing.

The casts are by no means the same thing as those lily white affairs of marble which were popular among prominent actresses a few years ago, and which the sculptor was instructed to make as smooth and beautiful as possible. Even when the original hand was beautiful, the sculptor’s art failed to give an exact portrayal of all its points. Beauty and symmetry were there, and they were fair to look upon, but the little lines that mean so much, were absent. It was as if a cast had been made of a gloved hand.

To make a reproduction which will be an exact likeness, including imperfections as well as points of beauty, it is necessary that the hand be used as a mold upon which the plaster is actually cast. Then the slightest mark—even a scratch—will be faithfully repeated in the paste that tells no tales but true ones.
This idea was conceived by an interesting young woman of New York, who looks upon the newly inaugurated custom, not as a fad, but as an educational practice calculated to hold up to public view the frailties, as well as the virtues of our public men and women.

She has already secured facsimiles of the hands of Chauncey M. Depew, ex-Speaker Crisp, Banker Henry Clews and Rev. T. DeWitt Talmadge, besides those of prominent politicians, and is now at work upon the hands of distinguished literary personages.

The hands are, she says, in a very large degree, the index of the will and other mental faculties. They reveal the temperament and the traits of character as readily as the face, to one who can master them, although the latter is popularly supposed to be the leading expression of character. She contends that the hand being connected with the moto-center of the will, is an executor of the will and must bear the expression of the nerve thoughts; whereas the eye, lip and other features formerly relied upon for the reading of character are made by her subordinate to the hand.

When asked to put in her own words the story of this new fad, she said: “The modeling of the hand is not altogether a new idea. It has long been a beautiful custom in England and France to take the cast of the first born. The cast was reserved until the marriage of the child, when it was presented as a wedding gift and saved as a sort of heirloom to be handed down from generation to generation. That was a mere matter of sentiment, but later the scientific value of such casts has become known, and it is upon those lines that I am working.”

“It is similar then to palmistry?”

“By no means. The hand is the key to the soul. A beautiful hand by no means indicates the possession of a beautiful or ideal character. This cast which you see on the table is delicate with smooth, tightly drawn skin, tapering fingers, narrow finger nails, symmetrically formed and thin in the palm. A beautiful hand, you say, but let me tell you the characteristics portrayed. She is fickle, loveless, willful, usually has her own way, and will tease until she tires a person out to get what she wants, and she is very likely to discard it. No regard for the welfare, or the desires and pleasures of others bothers her. The tightly drawn skin shows a lack of sensitiveness and the straight thumb, with no upward curve, shows a lack of generosity. She is not domestic, and altogether there is little of worth in that hand. The slender, tapering fingers which are very thin at the end and have narrow nails, indicate that she will never stick long to any one person or object. She is lazy or indolent, at least; is selfish, and will easily develop consumption.

1. Henry Clews 2. Chauncey Depew 3. Horace Greely 4. Rev. T. De Witt Talmage

“The hand of Chauncey M. Depew, as you see by this cast,” she continued, holding up for the writer’s inspection a large, strong-looking hand, “with its stout wrist, outwardly curved thumb, thick and hollow palm, long, strong fingers, broad nails and with loose skin on the back is very strong. He is not curious, but very energetic. Domestic and fond of his family, he is very affectionate, as shown by the thick, hollow palm. The thumb and the loose skin show a remarkable generosity. Though not averse to fame he is very sensitive, and a mean criticism will hurt him deeply. He is extremely quick of perception and decides instantaneously. While he is irritated by trifles, he bears great matters with perfect calmness. The long, strong fingers show remarkable energy and activity of thought. His hand indicates a total lack of selfishness and I think he would do his utmost to assist a worthy person or cause. The pose in which the hand is taken is perfectly natural and as much is own as the color of his eyes. He will not die suddenly, but just wear out. The outward course of the thumb also indicates a quality which I might term unreserved.

“The cast of Henry Clews’ hand is not open like Dr. Depew’s, but closed with the forefinger extended. Dr. Depew gives what he has freely, but Mr. Clews, as the hand pose indicates will keep what he has to himself. Mr. Clews’ hand shows great business ability, secretiveness in a sense and a strong will. The hand of the late ex-Speaker Crisp cast a short time before his death while in Washington, was blue in tint, showing that he would succumb to a sudden stroke, probably of heart failure brought about by undue excitement. The fingers are rather short and fat, indicating the shortness of his body. The palms are thick, the wrist strong, and it is altogether a good hand.

“This short, fat hand, which is the fac-simile of that of a popular actress is usually accompanied by a double chin. The possessor of such a hand is jolly and good tempered, and holds decided opinions, which she is not averse to stating, regardless of her hearers.”

Many bachelor quarters in New York now contain such casts of hands, and also of feet showing the ankle, doing duty as paper weights. The left hand is usually chosen, as it is generally more perfectly formed.

San Francisco [CA] Chronicle 6 December 1896: p. 2

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: Mrs Daffodil has previously mentioned the “summer fad,” of young ladies casting their faces in plaster to give as souvenirs to their beaux, some of whom, Mrs Daffodil grieves to say, had whole galleries of plaster beauties on the walls of their bachelor quarters. She does not imagine that plaster hands given as Christmas presents will be any more reverently received and imagines the careless gentleman stubbing out his cigarettes in the upturned, flower-like plaster hand of the Loved One.

It is curious how plaster casting, normally thought of in the context of the drawing class, was transformed into a method of character reading, although the interesting young woman’s subjects were so well-known that she certainly had enough information on their personalities to draw conclusions without recourse to plaster hands.

A few years earlier, it was the foot that was used for character analysis.

The newest fad taken up by the ladies in New York is character reading from the feet. There are regular foot reading women, who make a livelihood out of their strange calling. The proper way is to have a plaster cast taken of the foot, and sent to the chiropodist who writes out the character. Nelson [NZ] Evening Mail, 29 March 1890: p. 2

Then we have the young gentlemen of Paris (the plasterers of Paris?) who found a practical use for their plastered figures:

The superchic young men in Paris (according to an imaginative correspondent), not content with mere boot lasts, have plaster casts made of their legs from the waist down, with the object of keeping both their trousers, their knee-breeches, and even their under-wear in proper shape. One youth, with more money than brains, has an entire room of his residence devoted to the reception of some sixty pairs of plaster-of-Paris counterparts of his legs, and nothing is more peculiar than the spectacle presented by this army of fully clothed limbs standing about without any trunk and head. The Argonaut [San Francisco CA] 10 July 1893

Mrs Daffodil rather shudders to think what a character reader would make of those Parisian plasters.

Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,” where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdote

You may read about a sentimental succubus, a vengeful seamstress’s ghost, Victorian mourning gone horribly wrong, and, of course, Mrs Daffodil’s efficient tidying up after a distasteful decapitation in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales.

The Deadly and Demoralising Thanksgiving Pie: 1905

THANKSGIVING PIE.

Thanksgiving Day is the one national festival which is peculiarly and thoroughly American. Other nations undergo annual sufferings from noise and gunpowder which are analogous to those which are associated in our minds with Fourth of July. Christmas is the common property of the Christian world, although Russia celebrates her Christmas some weeks later than other nations, in order that Russians residing in foreign countries may obtain a double supply of Christmas presents. Thanksgiving Day, however, was the invention of the New England colonists, and though it has since been universally adopted by the American people, no other nation has imitated it. We alone express our annual gratitude by the sacrifice of turkeys, and it is, hence, greatly to be desired that the one exclusively American festival should be in all respects perfect and beyond reproach.

It is impossible to deny that in active practice our method of celebrating the day is open to one serious objection. In spite of the progress which we have made towards a higher morality than that of the last century, we still adhere, on Thanksgiving Day, to one barbarous and demoralizing ceremony. To a great extent the hot New-England rum of our forefathers is banished from our dinner-tables, but the no less deadly and demoralizing pie forms part of every Thanksgiving dinner, no matter how moral and intelligent its consumers may believe themselves to be.

The Thanksgiving array of pie is usually of so varied, as well as lavish a nature, that it seems cunningly devised to entrap even the most innocent palate. If mince-pie alone were set before a virtuous family, it is quite probable that many of its members would have the courage to turn in loathing from the deadly compound, but the Thanksgiving mince-pie is always accompanied or preceded by lighter pies, in which weak-minded persons think they can indulge without injury. The thoughtless matron—for thoughtlessness, and not deliberate wickedness, is indicated by the presence of Thanksgiving pie—urges her guests to take a little chicken-pie, assuring them that it cannot injure a child. The guest who tampers with the chicken-pie is inevitably lost. The chicken-pie crust awakens an unholy hunger for fiercer viands, and when the meats are removed, he is ready and anxious for undiluted apple or pumpkin pie. From that to mince-pie the transition is swift and easy, and in nine cases out of ten the man who attends a Thanksgiving dinner and is lured into touching chicken-pie abandons all self-restraint and delivers himself up to the thraldom of a fierce longing for strong and undisguised mince-pie. Hundreds of men and women who had emancipated themselves by a tremendous effort of the will from the dominion of pie, have backslidden at the Thanksgiving dinner, and have returned to their former degradation with a fiercer appetite than ever, and with little hope that they can find sufficient strength for a second effort towards reformation.

The chief evil of the Thanksgiving display of pie is, however, its terrible influence upon the young. It is a well-known fact, however revolting it may seem when rehearsed in cold blood, that on Thanksgiving Day many a foolish mother has herself pressed pie to the lips of her innocent offspring. To the taste thus created thousands of victims of the pie habit ascribe their ruin. It is a common spectacle on Thanksgiving evening to see scores of children, mere babes in years, writhing under the influence of pie, and making the night hideous with their outcries. Physicians can testify to the appalling results of the pie orgies in which children are thus openly encouraged to take part. The amount of drugs which is consumed by the unhappy little victims on the day following Thanksgiving Day would fill the public with horror were the exact figures to be published. How can we wonder that children who are thus tempted to acquire the taste for pie by their own parents grow up to be shameless and habitual consumers of pie! The good matron who sees a haggard and emaciated man slink into a public pie shop, and presently emerge brushing the tell-tale crumbs from his beard, shudders to think that the unhappy wretch was once as young and innocent as her own darling children. And yet that very matron will sit at the foot of a Thanksgiving table groaning with pie, and will deal out the deadly compound to her children without a thought that she is awakening in them a depraved hunger that will ultimately lead them straight to the pie shop.

All the efforts of good men and women to stay the torrent of pie which threatens to engulf our beloved country will be in vain, unless the reform is begun at the Thanksgiving dinner-table. Pie must be banished from that otherwise innocent board, or it is in vain that we try to banish it from shops, restaurants, and hotels. May we not hope for a great moral crusade which will sweep pie from every virtuous table, and unite all the friends of morality in a vigorous and persistent attack upon the great evil of the land.

The Banker and the Typewriter, 1905: pp. 154-155

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: A shocking indictment of the American Thanksgiving pie, hitherto thought to be an innocent holiday indulgence!  In England, of course, one of the footmen would read this aloud at tea-time to the accompaniment of hearty laughter.  The Temperance-tract language of the parody is quite spot-on. There are, of course, food reformists who rail against pie as the fons et origo of spots and dyspepsia, but those of us who enjoy a nice, flakey lard-based crust consider them cranks. Heaven knows what horrors they would conjure up about Christmas puddings and hard sauce.

Mrs Daffodil wishes all of her American readers the happiest of Thanksgivings with as much pie as they like.

This post was originally published in 2016.

Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,” where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdotes

You may read about a sentimental succubus, a vengeful seamstress’s ghost, Victorian mourning gone horribly wrong, and, of course, Mrs Daffodil’s efficient tidying up after a distasteful decapitation in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales.

A Pageant of Precious Stones: 1894

A Pageant of Precious Stones.

Nothing could have been more brilliant than the recent pageant of precious stones which illuminated the streets of Brussels. The route followed by the novel procession was lined with dense crowds. As night set in the skies were seen to be clouded, and for a moment the weather threatened to put an unceremonious end to the program. A few drops of rain fell, but only to tantalize the spectators, for after a minute or two the downfall ceased. The procession had been formed in the Rue Ducale, and there, until nearly 8 o’clock, it remained a mysterious trail of shadows, the accoutrements of which dimly and mysteriously reflected the flickering lights of the streets. Precisely at 8 o’clock the figurantes lit their torches, the electrical apparatus was set to work and the whole street broke out into a blaze of multi-colored light. Amid enthusiastic cheers the procession was set in motion.

The first car represented Light, being an appropriate reminder that without the aid of the sun the most brilliant of precious stones would be robbed of its beauty. In a gorgeous chariot, covered with silver and blazing with light, the god Phoebus appeared in his most classical form. Following him was an escort of drummers, musicians and torch bearers, all dressed in white and silver, their tunics and casques ornamented with faceted silver plates.

Then came a troop of cavaliers representing the turquoise, the topaz, the amethyst, the sapphire, the diamond, the emerald and the ruby, serving as a sort of summary of the cars and chariots forming the main body of the procession. Of these cars the most admired were the diamond and the ruby. The brilliant white of the one and the glowing red of the other, together with the artistic grouping of the figures on both, formed pictures of real artistic merit. In each case the colors of the precious stones and their geographical associations were admirably represented.

The topaz, with its figurante in a palanquin, and its attendants flourishing gigantic yellow fans, formed an admirable picture of Asiatic luxury. The turquoise car, with its twenty beauties apparelled in blue, and its floating mass of cerulean bijouterie, was also much admired. A miscellaneous cavalcade, representing jewelry, concluded the procession. For nearly three hours this gorgeous display perambulated the boulevards and principal streets.

The Jewelers’ Circular and Horological Review 5 December 1894: p. 45

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: One would give much to have a cinematic or even photographic record of such a brilliant occasion. Normally one thinks of Brussels lace rather than her gemstones, but this cavalcade of gemstones, complete with “figurantes”–those picturesque ladies selected for their faces and figures–sounds perfectly enchanting.

Mrs Daffodil has written before about floral parades in the States, but any “float” adored with a “floating mass of cerulean bijouterie,” must surely surpass even the most lavish productions of nature. One wonders if there were any actual gemstones worn or draped about the cars; if so, the liability cover would have been prohibitive.

Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,” where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdote You may read about a sentimental succubus, a vengeful seamstress’s ghost, Victorian mourning gone horribly wrong, and, of course, Mrs Daffodil’s efficient tidying up after a distasteful decapitation in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales.

The Halloween Tableaux of Fortune: 1894

Bonhams Auctions

HALLOWEEN GAMES.

Tableaux of Fortune, Cupids Dream and the Years Forecast By Electricity

A very new Halloween play and one which will be carried out most beautifully even to its most minute detail in a very fashionable set of New York young people is a “game” called the tableau of fortune. And let it be stated right here that all entertainments on Halloween night are called “games,” although l they may not partake of the nature of play nor yet be intended for the juvenile members of the family.

 After the audience is seated, little tickets are distributed until each has a slip of pasteboard. Upon the slip there is the date, the initials of the hostess, a blank space, some little ornamentation like a bit of hand decoration, and a number.

In front of the audience hangs a curtain, while palms at either side, and just visible rearing their heads behind it, prepare the guests for something very fine to come.

There is a tinkle of a bell and number one appears with a big figure, mysteriously lowered over the upper edge of the curtain.

“Who holds number one?” asks the mistress of ceremonies.

“My card is number one,” replies some one–say Miss Brown.

“Well, Miss Brown, I have the honor to announce that the coming tableaux will reveal your fortune for the coming year. Note carefully the picture. It will be repeated in your own life within a twelvemonth. Let the curtain rise!”

As the curtain is pulled away there stands revealed a bride, in full bridal costume. There is the trailing high-necked gown of white, the veil, the orange blossoms, the prayer book—nothing is lacking. Of course the bride is very beautiful and the tableau is a pretty one, without considering the joy which must have been experienced by Miss Brown at the thought of herself so beautifully arrayed “within a year.”

When number two is called and the owner of the number has responded to it, the curtain again is drawn aside. This time the owner of the tableau is less fortunate, for the picture is that of a Cinderella seated by the fireplace in rags. Her shoes show the need of a fairy godmother and adown her tear-stained face the tears are still falling. A little histrionic talent and some knowledge of stage effects might not be disadvantageous here.

The next tableau, number three, may show the fairy godmother with her arms filled with finery for Cinderella, while that young lady with her back to the audience, leans toward her godmother. This would typify that young lady No. 3 will have trouble the beginning of ’95, but that love will clear a way before the year is ended.

The curtain rolls back and number four sees herself seated before a mirror giving the last touches to her face with powder puff and rouge pad. There are tiny half-moon patches upon her face, and her hair is piled high, powdered and stuck full of ornaments. She has ear-rings and is laden with jewels. If the mirror faces the audience there will be the very pretty effect of the face reflected in the glass. This tableau is extremely taking and typifies growing vanity.

CUPID’S DREAM.

Cupid’s Dream Is the sentimental title of a Halloween game which is to be produced in a large gathering of young people with tremendous effect. The cupid In a marble figure about two feet in height with an arrow in its hand. The bow is drawn and Cupid shoots his dart apparently straight at the heart of the victim.

If desired a small child could act as Cupid, or a terra cotta figure be substituted for the marble. Or, indeed, any Cupid at all might be used.

The game begins with a dialogue.

“Miss A’s love affair will now be decided. Is Miss A present?”

“I am here,” replies Miss A.

“Are you ready to know your fate in love?”

“I am ready.”

“Cupid, reveal your knowledge!”

Instantly to a musical tinkle of a silver bell, or a chime if it can be arranged, the curtain goes back–and there stands the marble Cupid. Upon him plays a clear blue light, and the audience is hushed with admiration, while all the time the bells tinkle most sweetly.

“Miss A, you will be very fortunate in love, and before the year Is ended you will have become engaged to the man of your choice, who will be a paragon of manly perfections.”

The bells tinkle until the curtain has closed. Then comes the dialogue over again. This time it is addressed to Miss B.

When the curtain goes back it is to the sound of a thin, shrill bell that rings in a monotonous way. There is no music in the light, and Cupid is bathed in a green light. The bell continues until the curtain is drawn over the unhappy sight.

“Miss B., you will love a man who adores you as well, but who is extremely jealous. His jealousy will mar your happiness.”

While Miss B’s friends are advising her what to do with a jealous man, Miss C is called, and Cupid appears again. This time there is a tolling of the bell—a very deep tolling—and poor Cupid is flooded with a deep yellow light.

“Unrequited love!” announces the master of ceremonies.

A lovely white light plays upon Cupid at Miss D’s name. And the interpretation is, “Will remain heart and quite fancy free.”

All the shades of color are shown, according to their meanings, and the delighted audience openly regret when no more Cupid Dreams are to be seen. To arrange the colored lights the room must be darkened. A gas jet back of the audience must be supplied with a pipe with a large gas burner upon it. In front of the burner there are regular calcium light slides of all colors easily taken out and replaced.

All Halloween games must have the element of luck introduced. Nor can they possibly be without love. But by the skilful blending of these two qualities a Halloween entertainment may be interesting to all–even to those with this world’s love affairs already decided. In the affair of this kind surprises are always in order and the more of these the merrier.

A. P.

The Salt Lake [UT] Herald 28 October 1894; p. 13

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: It is quite curious how a religious festival celebrating the spirits of the dead returning to roam the earth for a night became so entangled with amorous divination rituals. We have seen this before in the fancies of “Nut Crack Night.”

One wonders if the mistress or master of ceremonies sent out spies beforehand to ascertain romantic entanglements or aversions before so blithely predicting unrequited love for a party guest. It seems as though the result would inevitably be the unhappy young woman rushing from the room in floods of tears and when next heard of, taking solemn vows in some austere convent. Surprises are not always in order….

Mrs Daffodil feels that such artistic tableaux should be on the order of “Twenty Questions,” where the guests have to guess the identity of the gentleman seen leaving the apartments of the young bride recently wed to the aged financier. Alternately, the “game” might expose a well-known gentleman as a card-cheat and a cad, at which he would quietly take his hat, and then flee the country before the ports could be watched. Hours of wholesome amusement and one needn’t enlist a child or a terra cotta cupid.

Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,” where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdote

You may read about a sentimental succubus, a vengeful seamstress’s ghost, Victorian mourning gone horribly wrong, and, of course, Mrs Daffodil’s efficient tidying up after a distasteful decapitation in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales.

The Paper Dress Masquerade Party: 1920

Crepe paper fancy dress costume, 1926 Fashion History Museum

Matching crepe paper fancy dress hat, 1926 Fashion History Museum

The Hallowe’en hostess says in despair, “There’s nothing new under the sun.”

But what about a paper dress masquerade party? It’s loads of fun. Ask all the girls to come dressed in the prettiest paper costumes they can devise. Tell them that before they take off their masks at midnight they will pass in a grand review in front of a court of witches.

Prize for Prettiest.

A prize should be awards to the prettiest and most unusual paper dress at the ball. It might be one of those flirtatiously inclined bisque young ladies that are so popular now, gowned in an adorable paper Hallowe’en costume. Or it might be a little bit of real art, in the shape of a replica of a famous artist’s statuette of a cat. If the lucky girl is a lover of cats, she is likely to be overjoyed at such a remembrance of the spirit of Hallowe’en. Of course, there’ll be second and third prizes, perhaps a mysterious little witch concealing beneath her skirt a pin cushion or vanity box, and a miniature pumpkin filled with colored candies.

New Use for Shelf Paper.

But let’s not forget the paper frocks—they’re the real center of excitement of this party. And here are only a few of the possibilities.

Take the afternoon frock at the left, for instance. You might not guess it, but mother’s shelf paper, with a riotous border of red, yellow and blue, makes the bodice and perky short peplum. A garland of paper flowers is the girdle, and there is just one shoulder strap—another flower garland. The skirt is of plain blue heavy paper, with a tunic almost the length of the skirt.

Next is a dainty tea gown all of orange crepe paper. The skirt has three flounces. The sleeves start out to be regular kimono sleeves, but end in flowing paper ribbons, reaching to the hem of the skirt.

The girl in the center is dressed in a clown costume of white, with a white paper ruff about her neck and a high fool’s cap on her curls.

And all over costume and cap are pasted all manner of black paper cats and scary faces and witches and owls.

Sports and Bathing.

Then comes a striking sports dress of black and white checked paper. A braided paper hat, white above with black facing, makes the whole thing just right. The dress is very simple. Black paper fringe trims the mere suggestions of sleeves, black pompom decorate the wide black paper belt and white outlines the seams of the short skirt.

Last is a paper bathing suit. Its pale yellow as to background, and has great splashes of green in the shape of conventional flowers near the hem and at the waist-line. Green petals on the yellow encircle the hem and neck. Sleeves there are none, but a frilly green cap there most certainly is, trimmed with a big yellow flower in front.

The West Virginian [Fairmont, WV] 18 October 1920: p. 7

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: “Cheap and cheerful” about sums it up. “Deadly” might be a third adjective to describe Hallowe’en fancy dress made from paper when coupled with the inevitable candles and bonfires of that holiday. Stories of paper-clad revellers burnt to death were distressingly common in the press. Mrs Daffodil will forebear from quoting any of these, so as not to dampen the holiday spirit, but does urge her readers to use caution around open flames if trying any of the fashions above.  Mrs Daffodil does have one final economical hint for Hallowe’en from Mary Dawson of the Mary Dawson Game Book, 1916:

If a costume party would be too great a tax upon prospective guests, a head-dress party can be substituted, the head-dresses being nothing more expensive than colored paper.

Suggestions for head-dresses include: a Rajah’s turban, an Egyptian lady, Dutch caps, cocked hats, a chef’s cap, dunce cap, and a Mediaeval Princess’s pointed hat. It is suggested that “flame-proof” papers be used.

More crape-paper costumes from a 1920s party book.

This post was originally published in 2015.

Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,” where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdotes

You may read about a sentimental succubus, a vengeful seamstress’s ghost, Victorian mourning gone horribly wrong, and, of course, Mrs Daffodil’s efficient tidying up after a distasteful decapitation in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales.

Ballooning the Coming Sport: 1909

Aeronaut cigarette card, 1887 https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/400785?rpp=30&pg=3&ft=occupations+for+women&pos=66

Ballooning to Supersede Motoring as Pastime

Wealthy French Women Giving Parties and Wearing Elaborate Costumes.

In its story of how woman has come to the front and in Paris, at least, has made aviation a social pastime, Vogue says:

“As might be expected, woman has brought to ballooning, as to every other human endeavor shared by her, a softening and beautifying touch. At a recent fete given by the ‘Stella’ at the park of the Aero Club of France, flowers were made the keynote of the entertainment. Members of the club in six parties made ascensions in balloons of equal number, and all of these balloons were named for flowers and each was decorated with the living blossoms that corresponded. Thus Mme. Surcouf sailed away in Les Bluets, and her globular vessel was decked with corn flowers. Mme. Defosses-Dalloz, a vice president of the ‘Stella,’ and Mme. Omer-Decugis, also of the club, were borne aloft in Les Roses and the car of their air chariot was smothered under La France roses. Mme. Abulfeda and Mme. Dumas, other members, occupied Les Paquerettes, and accordingly employed Easter lilies for its floral embellishment. The Comte de Castillon de Saint-Victor acted as pilot of the balloon occupied by another ‘Stella’ enthusiast, Mme. Monnot, and on her car Les Pivoines she had lavished a wealth of peonies. And so it went, every car in the fete had its bank of flowers, and as the balloons rose over the beautiful park showers of blossoms descended to the feet of the spectators.

***

“And not only this, but the aeronautes of the ‘Stella’ have set the fashion in their ascensions en spherique of wearing dainty and becoming apparel. It had once been the case that a woman in preparing for a balloon trip discarded all her pretty garments and donned heavy boots, corduroy skirts or knickers, thick woolen or flannel sacques and velveteen or leather jackets. Not so with the ‘Stellas,’ as they have already been dubbed in the French capital. A trip in the clouds means less to them than a trip in a motor car, so far as change of raiment is concerned. A long veil, which may be used to tie on the hat and to keep confined rebellious locks which are disturbed by the upper currents of air, and a heavy coat that will keep one warm when passing through a cloudbank of mist or when in the higher and colder levels–and any afternoon toilette is transformed into your modern sky sailor’s equipment.

***

“There can be little doubt that with the wealthier French women ballooning is the fad of the hour. As a sport it has replaced motoring, which once, held such complete sway over Parisian society and which is now considered slow and passé. A glance at any smart Parisian journal will reveal the prevalence and the popularity of balloon riding, for the papers are filled with accounts of the dally ascensions made by this, that and the other group of  pleasure seekers, while the advertising pages display notices of where balloons may be bought or hired, tell of what parks offer facilities for ascensions, and even print the schedules of rates at which skilled pilots may be hired by the hour.

“Week-end balloon parties are just as common as are week-end  house parties in this country. The hostess need not ask her guests if they fly; it is taken for granted that they do, and that they will take a part in the fete as a matter of course. And as a matter of course, they do. With the large, double-envelope balloons, which are used for these social air trips, danger is reduced to a minimum, ballooning being far safer, for instance, than motoring or boating. Women frequently make these short flights alone, and two or three women will make up a balloon party which scorns the services of a masculine pilot.”

Buffalo [NY] Courier 1 September 1909: p. 5

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire:  It is, Mrs Daffodil is reliably informed, “Aviation Day” in the States. The United States press was all agog over the fair balloonists of France and, naturally, wished American ladies to come to the fore in this fashionable sport.

A great deal has been said and written about the formation of a woman’s aeronaut club in this country, but as yet no effort has been made to form such a club. Fame awaits the man or woman who shall make the first move in this direction. Necessarily, the founder of such an organization must be a person of wealth and leisure and an enthusiast on the subject of aviation.

And yet what the French women have accomplished in this respect can surely be done by American women and done with éclat. It is plainly evident that ballooning is the coming sport of the well-to-do.

Grand Forks [ND] Daily Herald 9 September 1909: p. 5

 

However, it was clear that the Parisian’s afternoon toilettes with the casual addition of a veil did not suit the practical English or American spirit. A fashion letter from the manager of the firm of Burberry gives some helpful suggestions for the would-be Queens of the Air:

LONDON FASHIONS.

By May Dawson

London, May 4. The exceptionally fine weather experience of late has induced balloonists to venture forth at an earlier date than usual, and the season for this new sport bids fair to be an exceptionally good one.

Only a few years ago a balloon trip was regarded as foolhardy. Now it is looked upon as an amusing hobby. Since Mrs. [Hugh] Iltid Nicholl first ventured up on “The City of York” balloon, many ladies having followed her example.

It is obvious, however, that the picture hat and long skirt of Mayfair are hardly suitable for aerial flight, and the West End tailors are turning their attention to the serious question of meeting the dress demands of the lady balloonist.

“The most practical dress for a lady balloonist,” said the manager of Messrs. Burberry, in an interview, “should be made of gabardine, slimber [Burberry’s proprietary weather-proof cloth] or, for the coldest weather, loden, which is a particularly thick yet light woven cloth worn by the Alpine guides.

“The fashionable color is a green with a slight ruddy brown tinge. The coat is worn short and lined with fleece or silk, with two breast pockets, two cross pockets, and two hand-rests for the purpose of keeping the hands warm.

“The skirt is an adjustable one, which means that it can be drawn up by invisible cords, which by forming a pleat half way down, enables the wearer to get out or in the car with great facility, while it can be let down while traveling to keep the feet warm.

“Over the coat comes a ‘slip-on’ waterproof lined with either fleece, silk, fur or wool. A tailor-made shirt of opal crepe should be worn beneath, with a broad belt of the same material as the coat or skirt.

“We are introducing a special ballooning cap made of a fine opal crepe in the very palest shade of green, which is not damaged by the rain. It is in the jelly-bag shape, the end being fastened down on the right side by a quill. An opal silk veil, which is woven in colored silks should also be worn with the costume, shading from the green of the ballooning cap, to the ruddy shade in the coat and skirt. Canadian mittens are made of the same material as the coat and skirt.

“To make the costume complete the lady balloonist should wear dark brown boots, or if she wishes, should have the leather dyed in exactly the same color as the coat and skirt.”

The Salt Lake [UT] Herald 5 May 1907: p. 20

The earliest American lady balloonist  was Mary Myers, known professionally as “Carlotta, the Lady Aeronaut.” One may be reasonably confident that she did not dress like the young lady on the cigarette card at the head of this post.

 

Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,” where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdote

You may read about a sentimental succubus, a vengeful seamstress’s ghost, Victorian mourning gone horribly wrong, and, of course, Mrs Daffodil’s efficient tidying up after a distasteful decapitation in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales.

 

 

The Lantern Party: 1902

Art Nouveau Chinese Lanterns fan, c. 1900 https://www.google.com/culturalinstitute/beta/asset/art-nouveau-sirens-for-maison-bail/mAGiOKoM61QQGg

A Unique Affair.

“It would seem now and then as if society devices in delightful entertainment were about exhausted.” remarked a little lady just home from a summer up north, “but we were invited to a rarely charming garden party while away. It was called ‘a lantern party.’ and was given by a lady who owns a summer cottage set far back from a country road almost In the deep woods. The cards of Invitation were decorated with her own delicate drawings and water color sketches of Chinese lanterns and antique lanterns, and the guests were expected to carry lanterns with them; it was quietly noised around that a prize would be given to the bearer of the most unique or artistic lantern.

“As you can imagine, there was much energetic scurrying about in the small town to find something pretty in lanterns. Richard drove several miles out into the country to borrow a quaint old tin lantern he had seen at a farmhouse; but Louise and I contented ourselves with some pretty Japanese lanterns we had in the house. Little Richard was invited, too. and he got together quite a surprising and dazzling achievement in the way of a lantern out of an old cigar box and some red and yellow tissue paper.

“It was a great lot of fun, going after dark down the village street carrying our lighted lanterns. The sidewalks here and there were dotted with other guests, also carrying bright lanterns. People on the sidewalks and on the summer piazzas exclaimed at this unusual sight. When we reached the country road leading to the cottage of our hostess the spectacle was even more beautiful. Such a number of bright, yet subdued, lights flitting noiselessly along in the dark. As we neared the cottage we were all spellbound; a beautiful picture was presented house, porches and the long lane to the great gate hung with colored lanterns of all kinds and sizes. After we arrived in the garden and were seated, it was charming to watch all the new arrivals coming up the lane bearing lanterns a long vista of gigantic fireflies done in bright color. Those who wearied of carrying their lanterns could hang them, ticketed, on one of the verandas; and, before the evening was over, three judges quietly inspected them and made the awards. The chief prize was a lovely little Moorish lantern, and was won by a gentleman who carried a curious little Venetian lantern, which was said to have belonged to Robert Browning. He sent to his Chicago home for it. I learned, and as he was a much-traveled man, no doubt the little literary lantern was authentic.

“To our great surprise, little Richard’s cigar-box lantern won the consolation prize–a pretty copy of Stevenson’s beautiful essay, ‘The Lantern Bearers.’ “Music, conversation and the usual summer refreshments were other features of the evening, but the charm of the lanterns really made all else seem superfluous. Our lantern hostess told me she had once given such a party at her city home, where she knew many artists and curio lovers; and the rallying of beautiful, rare old foreign lanterns on that occasion, she said, really made her heart ache with the envious greed of nonpossesslon.”

The Indianapolis [IN] Journal 14 September 1902: p.13

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: Parties and cosy-corners were not the only venues for these pretty lanterns:

Some riders, in view of the fact that lamps are easily extinguished, have adopted the gaudy Chinese lantern, which, if it goes out, is readily noticed. In the evening these gay lanterns are very attractive.

Godey’s Lady’s Book [Philadelphia, PA] October 1896

Mrs Daffodil is sorry to dash her readers’ cherished beliefs, but Chinese lanterns were rarely made in that country:

The Chinese Lantern Trade.

During the last two or three years a large and regular demand for Chinese-lanterns has been created in this country, and the sale of these articles now constitutes one of the most important, if not the most important branch of the business of dealer in pyrotechnics. This has been especially true this season, when the demand for ordinary “fireworks” has been insignificant, but for Chinese-lanterns it has been larger than ever before. Garden parties, which are becoming very popular, are a profitable source of income to the manufacturers of Chinese-lanterns, as is also the custom now in vogue at some of the watering places of having a grand illumination once or twice each season. On two different occasions this summer Martha’s Vineyard has called upon Boston dealers for 15,000 lanterns for a single evening’s illumination.

The greater part of the “Chinese-lanterns” are made in this country, in the vicinity of New York, or in Germany, and as they have been in such active request of late years much ingenuity has been expended in producing them in the most attractive and convenient, and at the same time the cheapest, forms. The result of these ingenious efforts has been the manufacture of paper lanterns, some of which are surprisingly well adapted to the purposes for which they are designed, others being marvelously cheap, and many combining both of these desirable qualities to some extent. Pretty Chinese-lanterns of a cylindrical shape, and perhaps twelve inches long and four or five inches in diameter when in use, but capable of being compressed into about one-twelfth of their ordinary length for transportation, are sold as low as $6 per hundred; and large, gorgeously decorated globes, selling at $20 to $30 per hundred, are constructed with wire frames so as to be capable of being folded into the merest fraction of their usual space.

The Pittsfield [MA] Sun 7 November 1877: p. 7

Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,” where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdote

You may read about a sentimental succubus, a vengeful seamstress’s ghost, Victorian mourning gone horribly wrong, and, of course, Mrs Daffodil’s efficient tidying up after a distasteful decapitation in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales.

The Kettle-drum and the Winter Picnic: 1874

“KETTLE-DRUM.”
Another Fashionable Folly – Winter Picnics.

In this country we have few gentlemen of leisure, and in society, ladies’ clubs to the contrary notwithstanding, you can do little without gentlemen. While these are daily absorbed in some pursuit, ladies have been compelled to abandon themselves to lounging, dressing, calling, lunching, reading novels, and other weak efforts to kill time, cultivating society principally as an evening amusement, which usually resolves into the crush and jam of a party. Now, however, in large eastern cities, ladies are turning young men who have leisure, into account. They are invited to “kettle-drums,” a species of entertainment something like a high tea, where ladies are in the preponderance, where the rigidity of full evening dress is not required, where the proceedings are easy and informal, servants only being admitted with trays of refreshments, and then excluded, the hostess herself pouring tea or chocolate for her guests, and where society plans are discussed, suggestions made, and people decapitated without mercy. The “kettle-drum” has in it the elements of immense success, but it is necessarily confined in its sphere of operations. It was at a party of that character that the notion of a “winter picnic”—another scheme to kill time of those who have nothing to do during the day—was proposed. The modus operandi of the latter is thus described: A lady volunteers the use of her house, which she is expected to decorate with evergreens in profusion—holly, mistletoe, cedar, pine and the like—and also provide tea. The rest of the eatables the gentlemen contribute. One sends a hamper of ready cooked game, another fruit, another cakes and biscuits, another the creams and ices, and so on, until the collation is complete. Wine is not favored; instead, “Russian” tea is the vogue, simply Pekoe, choice Bohea or Mandarin tea, with thin slices of lemon floating in it instead of milk. As much of the house as possible is thrown open, halls are festooned with green, tubs and pots containing plants from the conservatory, or hired from a neighboring greenhouse, are placed here and there, and the table is spread picnic fashion by the company themselves, who also restore the dishes to the baskets and wind up with a dance. We heard it rumored that a lady, prominent in society in this city, is making preparations for a “winter picnic” at an early day.

Morning Republican [Little Rock AR] 13 January 1874: p. 4

Mrs Daffodil’s Aide-memoire: To be Relentlessly Informative, the origins of the term “Kettle-drum” are shrouded in the mists of the seventeenth century:

The origin of the Kettle-drum as somewhat obscure, but if history speaks truly, they were very common during the reign of that gay monarch, Charles the Second. The ladies returning from the hunt, gathered together for a tea-drinking and some light refreshment, the entertainment being known as a “drum,” to which the term kettle was later prefixed. The term Kettle-drum can not, therefore, be applied to anything but a tea-drinking; and, strictly speaking, should include only a light refreshment of sandwiches, cake, and biscuits. At no afternoon entertainment, at present, unless a full dress reception, is coffee or wine fashionable, chocolate or bouillon being the substitutes; and these, as well as tea, should be served in small dainty cups, the cream and sugar being handed each guest on a salver. Cook Book of the Northwest 1887: p. 167

Naturally, it was an English importation.

The kettledrum, or five o’clock tea, is really a very admirable institution, and a great relief in the severe formality and heaviness of average English entertainments. The guests drop in a little after four, the ladies retaining their hats and wraps. There are pictures and books to discuss, music at intervals; the rooms and balconies are filled with flowers; there is presently an ethereal little refection of wafer-thin bread and butter, delicate cakes, coffee and tea, served upon exquisite porcelain; and then after a little more talk and music the company melts unceremoniously away, and the little meeting has been simple, inexpensive—not–gay, for that would not be English, but pleasantly content—an excellent thing in the right houses, and in the wrong ones an evil of bearable weight and duration. The Galaxy, Vol. 15, February 1873: p. 260

Mrs Daffodil has long served the leisured class and no fashionable folly such as a “winter picnic” would surprise her. Still, one is rather shocked at the “soft” socialites holding such a soirée indoors. Where is that rugged American spirit? Here is how a proper “winter picnic” might be achieved: 

WINTER PICNIC HINTS

A winter picnic may be great fun

Ice and snow offer as many inducements for out-of-doors sports as any thing we have in summer. Two things, however, are essential really to enjoy a winter picnic. The first is proper clothing. Sweaters, woolen gloves and arctics are essentials. The second is the lunch. This should be much more substantial than the summer fare. If possible, have a good fire and cook at least one hot dish. In cold weather metal is disagreeable to handle, so use enameled ware cups and plates, which won’t break if dropped by cold fingers. Ham and eggs fried over a camp fire make a hearty lunch, and if an enameled ware frying pan is used it will be found easier to manager than the heavier iron variety. A little ingenuity will suggest many tasty hot dishes and winter picnics once tried will become a favorite pastime.

Trenton [NJ] Evening Times 23 November 1915: p. 11

Mrs Daffodil invites you to join her on the curiously named “Face-book,” where you will find a feast of fashion hints, fads and fancies, and historical anecdotes

You may read about a sentimental succubus, a vengeful seamstress’s ghost, Victorian mourning gone horribly wrong, and, of course, Mrs Daffodil’s efficient tidying up after a distasteful decapitation in A Spot of Bother: Four Macabre Tales.