ETTEILLA: THE 18TH-CENTURY TAROT MASTER … by Susan Stokes-Chapman

In the late 18th century, tarot reading underwent a transformation that would influence the art of divination for centuries to come. One of the most important figures in this transformation was Jean-Baptiste Alliette, better known as Etteilla (his surname spelled backward). As a professional fortune teller, occultist, and tarot innovator, Etteilla reshaped tarot into a structured system of mystical knowledge. He was not only the first person to publish a tarot deck specifically designed for divination but also a key figure in the esoteric revival of the time.

Etteilla’s Journey into Tarot

Born in 1738 in Paris, Jean-Baptiste Alliette initially worked as a seedsman and engraver, but he soon turned his attention to the mystical world of fortune-telling. By the 1770s, he was studying astrology, alchemy, and the Tarot de Marseille, the standard tarot deck used in France at the time. Inspired by the growing fascination with the Egyptian origins of Western esoteric traditions, he developed his own unique system of tarot divination.

In 1783, Etteilla published Etteilla, ou manière de se récréer avec un jeu de cartes (Etteilla, or the Way to Entertain Oneself with a Deck of Cards), one of the first printed guides to tarot reading. Unlike earlier traditions that saw tarot primarily as a game or as an obscure symbolic tool, Etteilla emphasized its role as a serious divinatory system with ancient roots.

The Livre de Thot: The First Purpose-Built Tarot Deck

By 1789, Etteilla had designed and published his own tarot deck, which he called the “Livre de Thot” (Book of Thoth). This was the first tarot deck ever created specifically for divination, marking a significant departure from earlier tarot designs, which were initially used for card games.

Etteilla claimed that his tarot deck was a rediscovered fragment of the ancient Egyptian “Book of Thoth”, a mythical text attributed to the Egyptian god of wisdom and writing. This idea was influenced by the work of Antoine Court de Gébelin, a French scholar who, in his 1781 work Le Monde Primitif, argued that tarot cards contained the lost wisdom of Egyptian priests.

Key Features of the Livre de Thot Deck

1. Egyptian Aesthetics – Unlike the Tarot de Marseille, which had a medieval European style, Etteilla’s deck incorporated Egyptian imagery to support his theory of tarot’s ancient origins.
2. Reordered Major Arcana – He changed the numbering and sequence of the traditional 22 Major Arcana cards to fit his unique system of meanings.
3. New Symbolism and Keywords – Each card included upright and reversed meanings, making his deck one of the first to explicitly incorporate reversals into tarot reading.
4. Four Elements and Astrology – His interpretations heavily relied on the classical four elements (earth, air, fire, water) and astrological correspondences, reinforcing the deck’s mystical framework.

Etteilla’s deck was highly structured and systematic, offering a more organized approach to tarot reading than earlier methods. His system became the foundation for many later occult tarot traditions, including the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn in the 19th century.

Nouvelle École de Magie: Etteilla’s School of Magic (1790)

Etteilla was more than just a tarot reader - he was a teacher and leader in the esoteric community. In 1790, he established the Nouvelle École de Magie (New School of Magic) in Paris. This school aimed to educate students in the mystical arts, particularly tarot divination, astrology, and alchemy.

Goals of the Nouvelle École de Magie

• Restoring Ancient Wisdom – Etteilla believed that tarot preserved fragments of ancient Egyptian knowledge and sought to reconstruct this lost wisdom.
• Training Professional Diviners – His school formalized tarot reading as a legitimate mystical practice, setting the stage for modern professional tarot readers.
• Combining Multiple Esoteric Disciplines – Unlike earlier tarot traditions, which focused on symbolism, Etteilla’s school integrated astrology, numerology, and alchemy into tarot interpretation.

The Nouvelle École de Magie attracted a small but devoted following, influencing later occult movements in France. Though the school itself did not last long after Etteilla’s death in 1791, his teachings laid the groundwork for 19th-century magical orders, including Eliphas Lévi’s occult revival and the Golden Dawn’s tarot system.

Etteilla’s Influence on Tarot Today

Although his theories about the Egyptian origins of tarot have been widely debunked, Etteilla’s contributions remain essential to tarot history. He was the first person to create a tarot deck specifically for divination, and his structured approach to card meanings, reversals, and esoteric symbolism influenced later tarot traditions, including the Rider-Waite-Smith deck (1909) and Aleister Crowley’s Thoth Tarot (1944).

Even today, tarot readers continue to use astrological and elemental correspondences, practices that can be traced back to Etteilla’s innovations. His emphasis on structured interpretations also paved the way for modern tarot guidebooks and courses, making tarot more accessible to wider audiences.

Etteilla’s Lasting Legacy

Etteilla was a true pioneer, transforming tarot from a simple card game into a sophisticated system of divination and esoteric study. His Livre de Thot deck and Nouvelle École de Magie shaped the way tarot was understood in the late 18th and early 19th centuries, leaving an enduring legacy in the world of Western occultism.

While his school may no longer exist, his influence can still be felt in every tarot reading, every mystical interpretation, and every deck designed for divination. As one of the first professional tarot readers, he helped elevate tarot from a curiosity to a powerful tool for self-discovery and mystical insight—an impact that continues to shape tarot practices today.

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My tarot-short story 'A Midnight Visitor' (set in the Georgian period) featuring a troubled medium, can be found within The Witching Hour, published in hardback October 2025. You can pre-order a copy by clicking the image below:

www.susanstokeschapman.com
Instagram: @SStokesChapman

THE LESSER KEY OF SOLOMON ... by Susan Stokes-Chapman

The eighteenth century in Europe saw a burgeoning fascination with the occult, a mystique born from a rich blend of Renaissance magic, medieval mysticism, and the inquisitive spirit of the Enlightenment. Among the most notorious grimoires of this era was The Lesser Key of Solomon, or Lemegeton Clavicula Salomonis. This enigmatic text, a compilation of earlier magical manuscripts attributed to King Solomon himself, was believed to hold arcane secrets for summoning spirits, commanding demons, and unlocking divine wisdom. Though its roots trace back to the seventeenth century — and even further to writings from two centuries prior — its influence endured well into the 1700s, captivating secret societies and individual scholars eager to explore the realm of forbidden knowledge.

The Secret Seal of Solomon

The Lesser Key of Solomon is composed of five distinct books: Ars Goetia, Ars Theurgia-Goetia, Ars Paulina, Ars Almadel, and Ars Notoria. Each explores different facets of spiritual and supernatural interaction, weaving together strands of medieval demonology, Renaissance angelology, and astrological doctrine, elements that continued to captivate 18th-century esoteric practitioners.

The most renowned section, the Ars Goetia, catalogues seventy-two demons, detailing their ranks, powers, and the precise rituals required to summon and command them. From mighty kings to lesser spirits, these entities were believed capable of bestowing knowledge, wealth, or other supernatural boons ... provided they were properly invoked and bound. Though Goetic magic was condemned by religious authorities, it survived in secret, with some scholars maintaining that such spirits could be harnessed for purposes both benevolent and malevolent.

The 72 Demon Sigils

The Ars Theurgia-Goetia addresses a different category of spirits, often seen as more neutral than those catalogued in the Ars Goetia. These spirits were believed to inhabit the elements and could be summoned to offer guidance and aid. Eighteenth-century demonologists such as Antoine Augustin Calmet (1672-1757) debated their precise nature, with many considering them intermediaries bridging the realms of angels and demons.

Named after the Apostle Paul, the Ars Paulina organizes spiritual beings according to planetary hours and the zodiac. The first section details angels governing various hours of the day, while the second describes zodiacal angels linked to specific astrological influences. Given astrology’s central role in eighteenth-century mysticism, this portion provided practitioners with a structured framework for invoking celestial forces.

The Ars Almadel instructs magicians in the creation of the “Almadel,” a wax tablet used to communicate with angels from the four cardinal directions. These angels were believed to bestow divine wisdom and guidance, rendering this section more closely aligned with religious mysticism than with the demonic arts.

Finally, the Ars Notoria departs from spirit summoning, focusing instead on prayers, meditations, and sacred orations designed to enhance memory, wisdom, and eloquence. In the eighteenth century, this book was especially esteemed by those who sought intellectual enlightenment without venturing into perilous occult practices.

Because of the secretive nature of occult studies and the stigma attached to demonology, direct citations from these scholars are scarce. Nevertheless, it is widely believed that The Lesser Key of Solomon was either referenced by or at least known to prominent eighteenth-century figures such as Emmanuel Swedenborg (1688-1772), Alessandro di Cagliostro (1743-1795), Ebenezer Sibly (1751-1799), Martinez de Pasqually (1727-1774), and Francis Barrett (1774-unknown).

Francis Barrett was my first occultist inspiration for my sophomore novel THE SHADOW KEY, an idea I’d nurtured since 2006. While Barrett himself did not ultimately appear in the novel, his seminal occult work The Magus (London, 1801), along with his references to The Lesser Key of Solomon, were crucial in shaping the occult elements of my story. This led me to create an eighteenth-century scholar of my own, Julian Tresilian, who owns a copy of The Lesser Key of Solomon among his extensive library. Though THE SHADOW KEY is, of course, fiction, collectors like Julian often kept the Solomonic grimoire close at hand. Despite its reputation as a dangerous book of black magic—or as a misunderstood spiritual text—its influence endured throughout the eighteenth century and beyond. Even today, this grimoire continues to inspire literature, art, and popular culture. In the 1700s, as now, the quest for hidden knowledge — whether divine or demonic — remained a powerful force in human history.

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I explore 18th century occult thinking in my second historical novel The Shadow Key, publishing in paperback in February 2025. You can order a copy by clicking the image below:

www.susanstokeschapman.com

Instagram: @SStokesChapman

​A BRIEF ACCOUNT OF 18THC GWYNEDD ... by Susan Stokes-Chapman

‘To understand it,’ Linette begins, ‘you must know our history. Many of the Welsh estates have dwindled dreadfully in recent years, to the detriment of those who relied on the landowners for their care. I’m sure you’ve noticed there’s little to entertain here – many of the gentry took to the cities. As a consequence they left their estates under the care of agents who leeched money from tenants and the land into the purses of their employers, who then squandered it. Some could curtail their spending, like our neighbours Lord Pennant and Sir John Selwyn, but many others were plunged into debt and passed their estates on to English gentry. My grandfather was one of these men. He preferred the delights of London and spent so freely there it put Plas Helyg on the edge of ruin.’ ~ Extract from: The Shadow Key

Harlech Castle, from Twgwyn Ferry, Summer's Evening Twilight (1799) - Joseph Mallord William Turner

Gwynedd, a county stretching across North-West Wales, is defined by its dramatic mountainous landscape and an extensive western coastline that gazes out over the Irish Sea. Renowned primarily for Snowdonia National Park — recently restored to its original Welsh name, Eryri — this region is home to Wales’s highest peak, Yr Wyddfa, more commonly known as Snowdon. Rich in history, boasting countless castles, stunning beaches, abundant wildlife, and vibrant culture, Gwynedd is today a celebrated destination for travellers and tourists alike.

However, the eighteenth-century Gwynedd was a very different place.

At that time, the area was known as Meirionydd, a land largely isolated from the rest of Wales and England by the rugged mountains of Eryri and a scarcity of easily navigable routes. Travel was predominantly on foot or horseback, following ancient drovers’ roads—pathways used to move livestock across the hills. Many of these routes traced back to medieval times or even earlier, winding treacherously through rocky terrain and offering little in the way of safety or comfort. As a result, the people of Meirionydd were often viewed as living in a remote backwater, with customs and ideas deemed ‘backward’ by outsiders.

This perception was actively reinforced through the spread of English culture by landowners who sought to ‘tame’ their Welsh tenants. Many estates, having fallen into disrepair due to irregular income, were acquired by absentee English proprietors who treated these properties merely as summer retreats. By the mid-eighteenth century, only a handful of the great Welsh estates remained in the hands of their original families. The incoming English gentry imposed sweeping modernisations on these estates, often with little regard for the impact on local tenants. Many native inhabitants were displaced, left without work or even shelter.

Unsurprisingly, this bred considerable resentment, particularly as language barriers compounded the difficulties in communication. Throughout the eighteenth century, English was the language of power, governance, and opportunity — an essential tool for anyone wishing to ‘advance in life.’ Consequently, the remaining Welsh gentry adopted English, while many among the lower classes faced the enforced imposition of a foreign tongue, fuelling discord and occasional uprisings, especially in matters of church and religious reform.

This linguistic and cultural divide lingers in some communities even today — a lingering echo of a troubled past where the Welsh endured harsh treatment at the hands of the English, making such tensions all the more understandable. [For further reading, see Hope and Heartbreak: A Social History of Wales and the Welsh, 1776– 1871 by Russell Davies, Welsh Gothic by Jane Aaron, and The Remaking of Wales in the Eighteenth Century edited by Trevor Herbert and Gareth Elwyn Jones]

The primary sources of income in the region were varied: shipbuilding thrived in Barmouth, fishing flourished along the coast, farming sustained the inland communities, and the mining of slate, copper, lead, iron, and gold fuelled industrial growth. Mining, in particular, experienced rapid expansion during the Industrial Revolution, and eventually, North-West Wales became home to some of the largest mining quarries in the world. These sites have since been recognized as World Heritage Sites and are renowned internationally. Notably, the famous jewellery brand Clogau traces its origins to the gold mine nestled in the hills just outside Dolgellau.

Yet, it is important to acknowledge that these mines were typically owned by the gentry, while the men who laboured within them endured grueling conditions. Miners were often compelled to purchase their own tools from their meagre wages and worked over ten hours a day — six days a week — with only Christmas Day as respite. The work was brutal and unforgiving, carried out in hazardous environments that resulted in a frighteningly high death toll.

Moreover, the influence of the Pennants of Penrhyn Castle serves as a stark reminder of the darker side of this wealth. The Pennants were involved not only in mining but also in the slave trade, owning several plantations in Jamaica. This connection underscores how the Welsh gentry amassed their fortunes through the exploitation of those they deemed ‘the lesser man.’

Despite these harsh realities, Meirionydd remained (and still is) a breathtakingly beautiful corner of Wales that drew visitors from near and far, helping to put the county firmly on the map for future generations. Among those captivated by the region was another member of the Pennant family, the naturalist Thomas Pennant. Between 1778 and 1781, he undertook an ambitious journey across Wales, culminating in the publication of two volumes celebrating his travels. His The Journey to Snowdon, featured in Volume II, offers a richly detailed and lyrical eighteenth-century portrayal of his native land, capturing the essence of Wales with both affection and keen observation.

Wales also drew many pilgrims of a literary and spiritual nature. Among them was the Reverend Richard Warner of Bath, who documented his travels in A Walk Through Wales (1799) and its sequel, A Second Walk Through Wales (1800). Even the renowned Romantic poet William Wordsworth harboured a deep affection for the country. During his first visit in 1791, he traversed much of North Wales, an experience immortalized in his Descriptive Sketches. Wordsworth vividly recalled ascending Snowdon by night to witness the sunrise, a moment so powerful that echoes of it can be found within his seminal work, The Prelude:

[...] When from behind that craggy Steep, till then
The bound of the horizon, a huge Cliff,
As if with voluntary power instinct,
Uprear’d its head. I struck, and struck again
And, growing still in stature, the huge Cliff
Rose up between me and the stars [...]

Gwynedd/Meirionydd is a county steeped in history. We often celebrate its rich tapestry of myths and legends — like those immortalised in The Mabinogi — and its pivotal Medieval chapter, notably Edward I’s conquest between 1277 and 1283, marked by the construction of the formidable castles at Harlech and Caernarfon. Today, Wales is widely cherished as a beloved summer holiday destination, yet it is equally important for those who cherish the nation to reflect on the often-overlooked “middle years.” These centuries, though less frequently examined, played a crucial role in shaping the Wales we know and revere today.

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I explore Welsh eighteenth-century social history in Gwynedd in my second historical novel The Shadow Key, published in hardback in April 2024. You can order a copy by clicking the image below:

www.susanstokeschapman.com

Instagram: @SStokesChapman

THE LANGUAGE OF FANS ... by Susan Stokes-Chapman

It exercises the office of the zephyrs, and cools the glowing breast. It saves the blush of modesty by showing all we wish to see, yet hiding all that we desire to conceal. It serves the purpose of a mask, covering the face that would remain unknown. It keeps off the rude beams of the uncourtly sun ... or from the fiercest ravage saves the brilliant eye and blooming cheek. It hides bad teeth, malicious smiles and frowns of discontent; stands as a screen before the secret whisper of malicious scandal; expresses the caprices of the heart, nay sometimes even speaks; in a word it has a thousand admirable qualities, and may justly be entitled one of the nobelest inventions of the human mind. 

Extract from: The Grand Magazine, London, November 1760

A fan is a delightful companion in warm weather or when confined to a stuffy room, but according to The Grand Magazine, its purpose extended far beyond mere cooling. It served as the perfect shield for a woman wishing to conceal herself — whether out of shyness, to mask less-than-perfect breath or teeth, or simply to avoid unwanted attention. Beyond this, the fan was a powerful instrument of silent communication, allowing a lady to convey her thoughts without uttering a single word.

In the Spectator of 27 June 1711, Joseph Addison remarked that “women are armed with fans, as men are with swords,” a sharp observation hinting at the fan’s potential as a weapon against unwanted suitors. For example, placing the fan against the left ear signaled a desire to be rid of a persistent admirer; carrying it in the right hand suggested the suitor was overly eager; and drawing the fan briskly through her hand delivered the unequivocal message, “I hate you.”

Yet, the fan was also a tool of flirtation and affection. Making eye contact while holding the fan in the left hand in front of the face expressed interest in an acquaintance, while pressing the fan’s handle to the lips conveyed a bold invitation: “kiss me.”

These discreet gestures collectively became known as The Language of Fans — a fascinating, silent code that added an intriguing dimension to social interaction in the Georgian era.

Lady Holding a Fan by Francesco Bartolozzi

Yet, the likelihood of a gentleman truly mastering this intricate vocabulary of fan gestures was slim. After all, there were over two dozen distinct motions and signals to learn. It was the Parisian fan maker Jean-Pierre Duvelleroy who took it upon himself to unveil this secret language. In 1827, he published a detailed leaflet outlining the etiquette of fan use, which quickly gained widespread popularity.

The idea is undeniably romantic, the notion of The Language of Fans. However, the less glamorous reality was that Duvelleroy’s true aim was to revive flagging fan sales following their decline after the French Revolution. Evidently, his clever marketing gambit succeeded, as he later became a supplier of fans to Queen Victoria herself.

  

Artists Unknown

Still, it might be a delightful challenge to master this secret code should you ever find yourself wielding a fan at a formal gathering, be it a Jane Austen re-enactment or a Bridgerton-themed ball. Just be careful not to accidentally call someone cruel or proclaim an engagement that doesn’t exist!

If you have a fascination with 18th and 19th-century fans, The Fan Museum is an absolute must-visit. There, you can explore an exquisite collection showcasing fans of every shape and style, delicately carved from ivory and tortoiseshell, with leaves crafted from silk and gauze, and adorned with intricate embroidery or hand-painted designs.

The museum also offers insights into the traditional methods of fan-making — knowledge that proved invaluable when I wrote the short story The Winter Spirits. Below are just a few of my favourite fans, which I photographed during my visit in August 2023:

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My short story 'Widow's Walk' (set in the Georgian period) featuring a troubled fan maker, can be found within The Winter Spirits, published in hardback October 2023, and out later this year in paperback. You can order a copy by clicking the image below:

www.susanstokeschapman.com

Instagram: @SStokesChapman

HAMILTON'S TREASURES ... by Susan Stokes-Chapman

Thankfully the ship rests in the shallows. He has not used this apparatus before and will not venture any deeper than he must. Twenty feet below the surface. No danger there, he tells himself. And he knows exactly where to look. Under careful instruction the object he seeks was safely hidden within the starboard bow, away from the other shipments tightly packed in the hold, but the ship broke apart in the storm; he hopes his luck stays true, that the crate has not strayed too far along the seabed, that no one else has managed to retrieve it ... ~ Extract from: Pandora

In the harsh winter of 1798, the Royal Navy’s formidable warship, HMS Colossus, met a tragic fate off the treacherous coast of the Scilly Isles, succumbing to a fierce and unforgiving storm. Hidden deep within its hull was the prized collection of Greek antiquities belonging to the British diplomat William Hamilton. With Napoleon’s forces poised to invade Naples, Hamilton had wisely chosen to send his treasured artifacts back to England for safekeeping. Yet, in a cruel twist of fate, these invaluable relics were lost beneath the waves, swallowed by the very sea meant to protect them.

William Hamilton harboured a profound passion for Greek vases, amassing an impressive collection during his 35 years residing in Naples. Serving as British Ambassador to King Ferdinand from 1764 to 1799, Hamilton’s official duties provided the perfect backdrop for his intellectual and cultural pursuits to flourish. He became deeply engrossed in antiquities, acquiring Greek vases from private collectors, sponsoring archaeological excavations, and even opening ancient tombs. What began as a scholarly interest quickly blossomed into a full-fledged obsession; by 1766, he had amassed a remarkable collection of over two hundred individual pieces.

For his own scholarly satisfaction — and perhaps to share his passion with the wider world — in 1766–67 Hamilton published a lavish four-volume set of engravings showcasing his treasures, entitled Collection of Etruscan, Greek, and Roman Antiquities from the Cabinet of the Honble. Wm. Hamilton, His Britannick Maiesty's Envoy Extraordinary at the Court of Naples.

Hamilton’s first collection of antiquities was sold to the British Museum in 1772 for the substantial sum of £8,410, where many of the pieces remain on display today. Among them is the celebrated red-figure volute crater famously known as the 'Hamilton Vase'. Yet, scarcely had he parted with this treasured assemblage — perhaps with some seller’s remorse — before Hamilton resumed his collecting with renewed zeal. He went on to publish a second catalogue, titled Collection of Engravings from Ancient Vases Mostly of Pure Greek Workmanship Discovered in Sepulchres in the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies but Chiefly in the Neighbourhood of Naples During the Course of the Years MDCCLXXXIX and MDCCLXXXX.

What makes this particular collection especially poignant is that it was among these very vases, immortalised in the engravings, that were tragically lost aboard HMS Colossus.

He was, understandably, devastated. In a letter he wrote to his nephew Charles Greville in 1799, he said of his vases 

“they had better be in Paris than at the bottom of the sea; have you no good news of them? they were excellently packed up, & the cases will not easily go to pieces, & the sea water will not hurt the vases. All the cream of my collection were in those eight cases on board the Colossus, & I can't bear to look at some remaining cases here in which I know there are only black vases without figures.”

Regrettably, only a handful of items from Hamilton’s lost collection were recovered during his lifetime. It was not until 1974 that a dedicated recovery team succeeded in raising some of the salvaged fragments from the depths. These damaged yet invaluable pieces now reside within the British Museum’s esteemed collection.

Despite this tragic loss, William Hamilton’s legacy endures. His meticulously published volumes became essential references for artists and craftsmen, notably influencing figures like Josiah Wedgwood. One of Wedgwood’s most celebrated creations is his exquisite reproduction of the famed ‘Portland Vase,’ pictured below—a testament to the lasting impact of Hamilton’s passion for antiquity.

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My debut novel Pandora opens with the recovery of an ancient vase from the shipwreck of HMS Colossus, and features William Hamilton quite prominently as a key character. To read all about it you can order by clicking the image below:

www.susanstokeschapman.com

Instagram: @SStokesChapman

AGE OF ELEGANCE ... by Susan Stokes-Chapman

In my previous blog post, I explored the world of Georgian jewellery, the crowning glory of any ensemble. But while those glittering finishing touches were undoubtedly important, they were only one part of the story. To truly appreciate the splendour of the era, we must also turn our attention to the fashions these jewels were meant to enhance, and the way dressmakers and tailors drew inspiration from the elegance and grandeur of the ancient world.

It was the Enlightenment that sparked this cultural shift. The Age of Enlightenment — a sweeping intellectual and philosophical movement that flourished across Europe during the 17th and 18th centuries — championed ideals such as human happiness, reason, empirical knowledge, liberty, and social progress. These Enlightenment values led to a renewed fascination with the classical civilisations of Greece and Rome, a reverence that inevitably found its way into the world of fashion, especially in what we now associate with the Regency period.

Women’s clothing, in particular, began to cast off the stiff structure of corsetry in favour of a more fluid and graceful silhouette. Inspired by ancient statuary and drapery, dresses adopted the flowing lines and high waistlines of classical antiquity — what we now call the Empire Line — designed to flatter the figure with a soft, slender elegance. Men’s fashion, too, echoed this classical ideal, embracing a leaner, more statuesque form reminiscent of the heroic figures of Grecian myth.

 

It is little wonder that the ancient world held such allure. With the rise of archaeology and the increasing accessibility of classical artefacts, many brought to wider attention through the aristocratic tradition of the Grand Tour, the beauty and refinement of classical imagery captivated the European imagination. The aesthetics of antiquity were irresistible: men were depicted as clean-shaven, with artfully curled hair and sculpted, athletic physiques that embodied virile strength and nobility. Women, by contrast, were portrayed with flawless skin, elegant hairstyles, and an air of serene grace, together forming the classical ideal of human perfection that so enchanted the Georgian mind.

© Victoria and Albert Museum

 
© Victoria and Albert Museum

The earliest Grecian-inspired gowns were simple, column-like shifts, most commonly made from muslin. Though other fabrics were occasionally used, muslin dominated the fashion plates of the day, prized for its soft drape and airy lightness. These gowns were intentionally unstructured, with shape achieved not through stiff corsetry, but by a ribbon or tie just beneath the bust, creating the now-iconic Empire Line silhouette.

This style offered women a remarkable sense of freedom and comfort. The dresses were lightweight, required minimal underpinning, and were paired with flat shoes, liberating wearers from the discomfort of high heels. White, in all its subtle variations, was the prevailing colour, evoking the purity and simplicity of classical antiquity. During the day, women often wore soft pastel shades, while deeper tones appeared in shawls, trims, or decorative tunics — many of which were edged in gold. These elegant overlays enhanced the Greco-Roman aesthetic, echoing the timeless beauty of ancient dress.

These ensembles were often complemented by delicate reticules (small handbags that sometimes echoed the elegant contours of a Grecian urn) and by hoods inspired by the Grecian caul, a fine cloth or netting designed to cover the hair and extend gracefully down the back in an elongated shape:

Returning briefly to jewellery, one accessory in particular captured the imagination of the era: the tiara. Frequently seen in contemporary portraits, these elegant headpieces also drew inspiration from the mosaics and pottery uncovered in archaeological excavations across Greece and Rome. As the examples illustrated below reveal, the classical heritage made tiaras a natural and highly fashionable adornment:

© The British Museum

Moreover, cameos were perhaps the most overt homage to the ancient world in Georgian jewellery. As early as 1805, the Journal des Dames observed that “a fashionable lady wears cameos at her girdle, cameos in her necklace, cameos on each of her bracelets, and a cameo on her tiara.” Below is a striking portrait of Queen Louise Augusta of Prussia, painted by the French artist Madame Le Brun, which beautifully showcases a cameo adorning her tiara, an elegant testament to this enduring classical influence.

The English potter Josiah Wedgwood found great success with his jasperware, renowned for its exquisite classical scenes. Featured below is a belt clasp framed in cut steel and adorned with Matthew Boulton’s faceted steel studs, depicting a priestess performing a sacrifice. Such cameos were a popular accessory among Georgian women (and even some men) who embraced these classical motifs as a mark of style and sophistication.

© The Walters Art Museum

And speaking of priestesses, the painting below by Madame Le Brun portrays Lady Hamilton — Lord Nelson’s famed mistress — as a graceful dancing priestess. Her layered garment and intricately patterned underdress blur the line between Regency fashion and ancient Grecian robes, so striking is the resemblance. In the background, the eruption of Mount Vesuvius serves as a vivid reminder of the recent excavations at Pompeii, an archaeological discovery that further fuelled the Georgian era’s fascination with the classical world.

For men, the approach to fashion was notably more restrained. Gentlemen wore breeches crafted from fabrics that stretched comfortably across the legs, subtly accentuating their form, while skin-tight pantaloons evoked the virile grace of classical statues much admired during the period. The dandy Beau Brummell — depicted below — famously asserted that the purpose of men's fashion was to “clothe the body so that its fineness may be revealed,” emphasising understated elegance over ostentation.

Of course, not all bodies conformed to the idealised shapes of the era. For women of fuller figure, the Empire Line dresses remained remarkably flattering, gracefully skimming the silhouette. Men, however, who lacked the muscular contours celebrated in Grecian heroes, often did not hesitate to enhance their form with padded garments to create the desired curves. This humorous caricature below playfully captures that very practice. Beside it is a surviving example of a padded stocking, a testament to the lengths men would go to achieve the perfect classical profile.

There is much more to be said about Georgian fashion, but for the purposes of this blog, I wanted to focus on the striking visual parallels between Regency styles and the ancient world. Personally, I believe they were truly onto something remarkable. It feels high time these fashions made a comeback. They were elegant and regal, wonderfully cool in the summer months, and flattering to every shape and size. What more could one possibly ask for?

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My Georgian-set debut novel Pandora acknowledges this obsession with the ancient world, and you can order by clicking the image below:

www.susanstokeschapman.com
Instagram: @SStokesChapman