When we think of ballrooms and dances, the idea of a prince, a princess, or a castle certainly comes to mind.
These notions are not entirely wrong; however, today we won’t be talking about balls in general (I see you laughing), but rather we’ll discuss only one in particular.
One I’ve already briefly introduced a few weeks ago in my Pride and Prejudice article.
You’ve guessed it—the Regency Dance.
Or, if you want the longer version, ‘The Etiquette of a Regency Ballroom’.
To start, let’s keep in mind that this was an era where dancing was way more than a fun hobby. We are travelling back to a society that had literally nothing better to do all day. And therefore, they danced.
This sophisticated art was a skill that anyone of a good social standing knew or needed to know.
It was taught in school to anyone who was lucky enough to attend a private one; if not, it was taught at home by a dance master. It was a way to refine and give elegance of movement to both men and women.
But it was, most of all, what made a proper gentleman and a proper lady.
Just imagine and think about how, nowadays, social networking could actually happen anywhere. At the time, in the Regency Era instead, it mainly took place in a ballroom.
A dance and a ballroom were not only important; they were, above all, a chance.
To any young lady or any young gentleman, or even both of their parents, the London season of balls and events meant only one thing: make a good match.
It was the perfect opportunity to attract a suitable marriage and get to know other people, indulging in conversations and good old gossiping.
The waltz, quadrille, cotillion, and all the Regency dances provided the ideal occasion, especially for a lady, to display her manners and social grace. To show the poise of her persona and the way she carried herself both on and off the dancefloor.
Essentially, a crucial matter.
Not every ball, however, was the same. They distinguished themselves for various factors, but primarily for the venue and therefore whether they were public or private.
In Jane Austen’s works—and in my favourite, Pride and Prejudice—we encounter both of them. And each of them is significant and important in its own way.
The public assemblies happened in a designated place; typically, it was an entire area that would host balls throughout the whole year (like Meryton for the Bennets) and that was open to the public so that people could buy tickets to attend them. If it was a particularly large zone, dances would even occur every week in wintertime. They were usually held in a big inn, the town hall, or assembly rooms precisely built for that purpose.
As for who was organising these events, it often varied. It could simply be a group of people from the area, a private business, a local committee, a charity, or someone who just owned a big, private building.
Anyone could have attended a public ball. Anyone could have bought a ticket, and you could have even gotten yourself a pass for the entire year. However, for how much they didn’t discriminate, it could happen from time to time that these assemblies were indicated to a specific demographic of people (of course we’re always talking about upper middle class and above). They could even have official rules posted somewhere in the venue, which you necessarily had to respect, and that could go from the way you would line up for the dances to how your carriage should drop you off.
Absurd, am I right?
Private balls weren’t much different either. As you might have expected, their social etiquette was even worse.
First things first, you obviously had to be invited. The circle of people who received an invitation was of the utmost importance, for they had to get along, and no one, under any circumstances, had ever to get bored. The letters were sent from ten days to even weeks beforehand, and the replies were demanded immediately.
If you received an invitation, there were no questions about it, you had to go.
A host or hostess needed to have an equal number of men and women on the guest list, if not more men, so as not to leave any woman without a dance partner.
A private ball, furthermore, typically began at nine or ten at night, lasting long until morning. Supper was held at 1 a.m., while the guests continued dancing until breakfast was served.
They definitely knew how to party, I’ll tell you that. Perhaps even better than us.
Although not posted, there were rules you had to respect even if it was a private event. Norms that were common knowledge and that everybody needed to know. Like, for example, you always had to wear gloves and never be seen without them, unless it was supper time, and so it was improper to eat with them. People were ordered based on importance for the dances (based on your arrival instead for the public assemblies), which, don’t get me started, is a whole other headache.
Then the leading couple was responsible for choosing the dance and setting the tune; it was considered poor form to repeat the same set in a single evening; married couples were not expected to take part, and they could not be paired together on the dancefloor; if you did not take your place when the dance began, you were expected to join at the bottom of the line; and leaving before it ended was, naturally, a breach of etiquette.
Truly seems like a nightmare.
Let’s not forget that, apart from being huge social events, balls could also be a whole deal of scandalous affairs.
Chaperones, after all, were essential, not only to supervise budding youthful attachments but above all because even the smallest misstep could lead to social ruin.
A young unmarried lady always had a chaperone, usually an older married woman, and most of the time her mother, who verified the suitability of any prospective dance partners. The young lady also had to wait for a gentleman to ask her, and if she did not already have an acquaintance with the man, she had first to be introduced, something that typically happened through the host or hostess, a mutual friend, or a master of ceremonies.
However—how I wish it was still done today—a gentleman could not consider himself acquainted with the lady simply after an introduction in the ballroom. It was only upon her acknowledgement that such a claim could be made.
(One of the few things a woman could actually do at the time.)
However, if you could choose to bluntly ignore someone after a ball, you could not refuse them on the dancefloor. Unfortunately.
Unless you had a previous engagement for a set and unless you did not want to dance at all that night, you had to accept the invitation. And even if you went to sit in a corner, the gentleman could have followed you to sit right next to you.
Outrageous. I feel for those poor women.
A brother and a sister could not dance together, but a lady could have done so with her sister. Though this was permitted only under specific circumstances, like a shortage of gentlemen or with special permission.
At a private ball, the presence of an unmarried gentleman implied that he was open to the prospect of marriage, and social custom expected him to participate in the dancing. If he had no interest in any of the ladies, it was considered proper that he refrain from seeking introductions. Had he danced, however, he was also expected to invite any lady left without a partner. And to request a second set with the same lady was often taken as a sign of serious intentions, potentially sparking assumptions of courtship.
(They literally had nothing better to do.)
At a public ball, a single gentleman was also not obliged to dance with just anyone. But he had to be attentive to the ladies in his own party, partnering any who were unengaged, even if that meant dancing with the same lady more than once.
The funny thing is that what we often refer to as a single ‘set’ during the Regency era actually consisted of two dances, often lasting up to half an hour in total. So, when a couple stood up together, they were effectively spending a significant amount of time in each other’s company. And this makes it all the more meaningful in Pride and Prejudice when Mr Bingley asks Jane to dance more than once.
What seems like a simple gesture is, in fact, a notable display of interest.
Cheeky Mr Bingley.
It does not end here, because the duty of a gentleman was to accompany the lady back to her seat, or to her chaperone, or to the supper room if it was eating time, or… This article is getting too long…
I guess I’ll just end it here, but the etiquette of a Regency ballroom definitely doesn’t.
That’s alright. Perhaps I’ll talk more about it another time.
I’m honestly more preoccupied by how many times I’ve written the word ‘dance’.
Let’s just say then that in Regency society, a ball was far more than an evening’s entertainment. It was a carefully choreographed display of manners, status, and subtle courtship. Everything mattered, and etiquette was essential—even though there were lots of sneaky ways to bend all these strict rules.
But we reached the end, my dear reader, and the night is still young. I’ll leave you with the wonder for another time.
So now, as the final notes fade and the ballroom empties, I ask you…
Would you like this dance?
Because, for sure as hell, I would love to dance with you.
Up, Hofball in Wien by Wilhelm Gause (1900)
Sources:
Regency Era Ballroom Etiquette Guide
What were the rules of the Regency ballroom?
How to behave in a Regency ballroom
Etiquette, flirting and hidden passions: all the thrill of the Regency ballroom
The Library of the Unseen 
Penny for your thoughts…