When I was young, my family participated in Civil War reenacting. We attended balls held in the style of approximately 1863. Ladies wore carefully researched gowns, corsets, and hoop skirts. Gentleman attired themselves either in civilian tailcoats and cravats or in period military uniform. Everyone was coached on the manners and social rules of the mid-nineteenth-century. I still remember the unexpected reaction of the boys who came to those balls. One might think the last thing a normal a 13-year-old lad would enjoy is filling out girls’ dance cards while wearing a cravat.

Yet those boys found the rules of period etiquette a tremendous relief. They knew exactly what they were supposed to do—how to ask a pretty girl to dance (and that she would not say “no”), what to do on the dance floor, what to say afterwards, and where to escort her when each song ended. There was no awkward implication to dancing with anyone, so they danced with everyone. There was no need to come up with original banter, so they bowed and thanked each lady. They had a blast.

They are not the only ones who have found the rules of the nineteenth century liberating. It is fascinating to read primary source material from that era and to see the relationships that blossomed within the structure of rules. For instance, Mary Boykin Chesnut’s Civil War diary reveals an upper-class southern society thickly intertwined with rules of decorum. She was also able as a matter of course to have many personal friendships with men.

These gentlemen called, not on her busy husband, but on her. They confided thoughts and concerns to her. They bantered with her and gave her flowers. All of this was perfectly acceptable because it all fell within the boundaries of clearly understood social rules.