When Hero “Kitten” Wantage enters the ballroom at Almack’s on the arm of Lord George Wrotham, a man who is decidedly not her husband, Miss Milborne finds this circumstance positively lowering.
You see, George was her beau. Yet he was on the arm of a married woman.
“The dreadful suspicion that the passion her admirers declared themselves to feel for her was nothing more than an evanescent emotion, soon recovered from, could not be stifled, and made Miss Milborne wretched indeed. She waited for George to come across the room to her side, which he would surely do as soon as another man relieved him of the charge of Hero. Hero was led on to the floor by Marmaduke Fakenham to dance the waltz; George strolled away to exchange greetings with a group of his friends. Miss Milborne, too mortified to remember that she had refused to receive him when he had called to pay her a morning visit, could only suppose that his passion for her had burnt itself out…
‘I observe,’ said Mrs. Milborne on the way home, ‘that our little friend (Hero) has lost no time in acquiring a cicisbeo! Well! I wish her joy of young Wrotham! He seemed to me to be quite epris in that direction….’
— Friday’s Child, Georgette Heyer
What is a cicisbeo?
They are sometimes called cavalier servente. That is, a gallant servant.
Hmmm. I quite like the boots. Are they expensive?
The first usage of the term cicisbeo was found in some correspondence from the British ambassador’s wife during her travels. In 1749, Lady Mary Wortley Montagu wrote to Lady Pomfret (which is also the term for a species of fish) of an unknown lady and her escort, an abbot from Genoa. He was both witty and learned “in a very ugly form.” Not quite the compliment one initially expects but there is much worse to come:
“I hear (he is) declared her cicisbeo in all forms, poor man! He must be in the same situation with Mr. Southcote, when my Lady Townshend figured him in the body of old Cleveland, like Van Trump, lost in an ocean neither side nor bottom!”
Good heavens. I daresay her ladyship of Pomfret was confounded by the ambiguous nature of this correspondence. I know I was.
After some study, I divined the following meaning: cicisbeo is the male attendant of a female who stands in the place of her husband. The man of the cloth was considered more than just the unknown lady’s acquaintance. And Southcote was apparently Lady Townshend’s man while in public, hence the term “in the body” of her living husband, the second duke of Cleveland.
Leaving aside further speculation on that particular emphasis on body, we can also deduce that this occupation was rather frustrating. For the man.
Indeed, what can be more pointless or exhausting than being lost in a body of water that has no bottom or end?
I find it ironic that the romantic poet Byron should hate the notion of the cicisbeo. Yet apparently he had experience in the matter. He was cicisbeo to an Italian contessa.
This is an excerpt on the matter from his poem Beppo.
Besides, within the Alps, to every woman, ( Although, God knows, it is a grievous sin, )
‘Tis, I may say, permitted to have two men; I can’t tell who first brought the custom in,
But “Cavalier Serventes” are quite common, And no one notices nor cares a pin;
And we may call this ( not to say the worst ) A second marriage which corrupts the first.
Two men at once. The very idea! Dashed bad ton, you may be sure.
Having a cicisbeo sounds wonderful for the lucky woman. Two men to dote on her.
But must be truly frustrating for the second man,
My sentiments exactly! Thanks for commenting.
No, no, not bad ton at all. Remember that husbands and wifes were not supposed to live in each other’s pockets. As to Isabella Milborne, she was very fickle when it came to poor George.
Quite right that cicisbeos were not considered bad ton. I suppose Byron may be forgiven his disapproval, having experienced what it means to be the cavalier servente. I wonder what Caro Lamb would have said?
As for Miss Milborne, this is another wonderful example of Heyer’s mastery of deft and subtle characterization–“too mortified to remember she had refused to receive him..” The character’s all too human duplicity has confounded her as well!
And the problem with having two men is…..?
I imagine there’s a few married men of today that wouldn’t object too much. If the second man was ‘doomed’ to attend operas and ballets and shopping and chick flicks while the actual husband went off to do more manly things, it might just work 😉
Very intersting post – as always!
Shopping and chick flicks—too funny! Thanks for visiting!
Very interesting. Reminded me of courtly Love in medieval times. I would love to have cicisbeo to accompany me to all those things my husband doesn’t want to do!
What a great cover for Friday’s Child. She looks about to swat the artist. Very unlike Kitty, but funny.
I have a cicisbeo. DH and I joke about it. He’s a mysterious masked man of mystery and DH might be jealous if the gent in question weren’t feline. 😉
I declare, your cicisbeo sounds like my type. My own feline companion is more like Mr. Penecuik, Kitty Charing’s miserly old guardian in Cotillion. Grumpy and complaining all the time!
It would seem that a cicisbeo is an escort for a woman whose husband for some reason can’t accompany her to some function. I think this is a very practical idea for a woman to be able to attend some event (perhaps at night) with a male escort. Where can I find one???
Great post, as always.
I think there’s a regency romance in that comment somewhere! Thanks for visiting!
You have such remarkable knowledge of the period.
Thanks for sharing.
Thank you for visiting! Your twittering keeps me going!
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