a celebrated social event
early in the season of 1857–’8, our friend mrs. senator gwin announced her intention of giving a ball which should eclipse every gathering of the kind that had ever been seen in washington. just what its character was to be was not yet decided; but, after numerous conferences with her friends in which many and various suggestions were weighed, the advocates for the fancy ball prevailed over those in favour of a masquerade, to which, indeed, senator gwin himself was averse, and these carried the day.
surely no hostess ever more happily realised her ambitions! when the function was formally announced, all washington was agog. for the ensuing weeks men as well as women were busy consulting costumers, ransacking the private collections in the capital, and conning precious volumes of coloured engravings in a zealous search for original and accurate costuming. only the senators who were to be present were exempt from this anticipatory excitement, for senator gwin, declaring that nothing was more dignified for members of this body than their usual garb, refused to appear in an assumed one, and so set the example for his colleagues.
as the time approached, expectation ran high. those who were to attend were busy rehearsing their characters and urging the dressmakers and costumers to the perfect completion of their tasks, while those who were debarred deplored their misfortune. i recall a pathetic lament from my friend lieutenant henry myers, who was 127obliged to leave on the united states ship marion on the fourth of april (the ball was to occur on the ninth), in which he bemoaned the deprivations of a naval officer’s life, and especially his inability to attend the coming entertainment.
when the evening of the ball arrived there was a flutter in every boudoir in washington, in which preparation for the great event was accelerated by the pleasurable nervousness of maid and mistress. mrs. gwin’s costume, and those of other leading washingtonians, it was known, had been selected in new york, and rumours were rife on the elegant surprises that were to be sprung upon the eventful occasion.
with senator clay and me that winter were three charming cousins, the misses comer, hilliard and withers. they impersonated, respectively, a gypsy fortune-teller, a constantinople girl, and “titania”; and, to begin at the last (as a woman may do if she will), a wonderful “titania” the tiny miss withers was, robed in innumerable spangled tulle petticoats that floated as she danced, her gauze wings quivering like those of a butterfly, and her unusually small feet glistening no less brilliantly with spangles.
“miss withers, yon tiny fairy,” wrote major de havilland, who in his “metrical glance at the fancy ball” immortalised the evening, “as ‘titania’ caused many a midsummer night’s dream.” miss hilliard, whose beauty was well set off in a costly and picturesque costume of the east, owed her triumph of the evening to the kindness of mrs. joseph holt, who had bought the costume (which she generously placed at my cousin’s disposal) during a tour of the orient. so attractive was my cousin’s charming array, and so correct in all its details, that as she entered mrs. gwin’s ballroom, a party of turkish onlookers, seeing the familiar garb, broke into applause.
128miss comer, in a brilliant gown that was plentifully covered with playing-cards, carried also a convenient pack of the same, with which she told fortunes in a mystifying manner, for i had coached her carefully in all the secrets of the day. i must admit she proved a clever pupil, for she used her knowledge well whenever an opportunity presented, to the confusion of many whose private weaknesses she most tormentingly exposed.
my chosen character was an unusual one, being none other than that remarkable figure created by mr. shillaber, aunt ruthy partington. it was the one character assumed during that memorable evening, by one of my sex, in which age and personal attractions were sacrificed ruthlessly for its more complete delineation.
i was not the only one anxious to impersonate the quaint lady from beanville, over whose grammatical faux pas all america was amusing itself. ben perley poore no sooner heard of my selection of this character than he begged me to yield to him, but i was not to be deterred, having committed to heart the whole of mrs. partington’s homely wit. moreover, i had already, the previous summer, experimented with the character while at red sweet springs, where a fancy ball had been given with much success, and i was resolved to repeat the amusing experience at mrs. gwin’s ball.
finding me inexorable, mr. poore at last desisted and chose another character, that of major jack downing. he made a dashing figure, too, and we an amusing pair, as, at the “heel of the morning,” we galloped wildly over mrs. gwin’s wonderfully waxed floors. the galop, i may add in passing, was but just introduced in washington, and its popularity was wonderful.
if i dwell on that evening with particular satisfaction, the onus of such egotism must be laid at the door of my flattering friends; for even now, when nearly twoscore years and ten have passed, those who remain of that 129merry assemblage of long ago recall it with a smile and a tender recollection. “i can see you now, in my mind’s eye,” wrote general george wallace jones, in 1894; “how you vexed and tortured dear old president buchanan at doctor and mrs. gwin’s famous fancy party! you were that night the observed of all observers!” and still more recently another, recalling the scene, said, “the orchestra stopped, for the dancers lagged, laughing convulsively at dear aunt ruthy!”
nor would i seem to undervalue by omitting the tribute in verse paid me by the musical major de havilland:
“mark how the grace that gilds an honoured name,
gives a strange zest to that loquacious dame
whose ready tongue and easy blundering wit
provoke fresh uproar at each happy hit!
note how her humour into strange grimace
tempts the smooth meekness of yon quaker’s face.[13]
but—denser grows the crowd round partington;
’t’were vain to try to name them one by one.”[14]
it was not without some trepidation of spirit that i surrendered myself into the hands of a professional maker-up of theatrical folk and saw him lay in the shadows and wrinkles necessary to the character, and adjust my front piece of grey hair into position; and, as my conception of the quaint mrs. partington was that 130of a kindly soul, i counselled the attendant—a hungarian attaché of the local theatre—to make good-natured vertical wrinkles over my brow, and not horizontal ones, which indicate the cynical and harsh character.
my disguise was soon so perfect that my friend mrs. l. q. c. lamar, who came in shortly after the ordeal of making-up was over, utterly failed to recognise me in the country woman before her. she looked about the room with a slight reserve aroused by finding herself thus in the presence of a stranger, and asked of emily, “where is mrs. clay?” at this my cousins burst into merry laughter, in which mrs. lamar joined when assured of my identity.
thus convinced of the success of my costume, i was glad to comply with a request that came by messenger from miss lane, for our party to go to the white house on our way to mrs. gwin’s, to show her our “pretty dresses,” a point of etiquette intervening to prevent the lady of the white house from attending the great ball of a private citizen. forthwith we drove to the executive mansion, where we were carried sans cérémonie to miss lane’s apartments. here mrs. partington found herself in the presence of her first audience. miss lane and the president apparently were much amused at her verdancy, and, after a few initiative malapropisms, some pirouettes by “titania” and our maid from the orient, done to the shuffling of our little fortune-teller’s cards, we departed, our zest stimulated, for the gwin residence.
my very first conquest as mrs. partington, as i recall it now, was of mrs. representative pendleton, whom i met on the stairs. she was radiantly beautiful as the “star-spangled banner,” symbolising the poem by which her father, francis scott key, immortalised himself. as we met, her face broke into a smile of delicious surprise.
131“how inimitable!” she cried. “who is it? no! you shan’t pass till you tell me!” and when i laughingly informed her in aunt ruthy’s own vernacular, she exclaimed: “what! mrs. clay? why! there isn’t a vestige of my friend left!”
my costume was ingeniously devised. it consisted of a plain black alpaca dress and black satin apron; stockings as blue as a certain pair of indigos i have previously described, and large, loose-fitting buskin shoes. over my soft grey front piece i wore a high-crowned cap, which, finished with a prim ruff, set closely around the face. on the top was a diminutive bow of narrowest ribbon, while ties of similarly economical width secured it under the chin. my disguise was further completed by a pair of stone-cutter’s glasses with nickel rims, which entirely concealed my eyes. a white kerchief was drawn primly over my shoulders, and was secured by a huge medallion pin, in which was encased the likeness, as large as the palm of my hand, of “my poor paul.”
on my arm i carried a reticule in which were various herbs, elecampane and catnip, and other homely remedies, and a handkerchief in brilliant colours on which was printed with fearless and emphatic type the declaration of independence. this bit of “stage property” was used ostentatiously betimes, especially when aunt ruthy’s tears were called forth by some sad allusion to her lost “paul.” in my apron pocket was an antique snuff-box which had been presented to me, as i afterward told senator seward, by the governor of rhode island, “a lover of the kawnstitution, sir.”
but, that nothing might be lacking, behind me trotted my boy “ike,” dear little “jimmy” sandidge (son of the member from louisiana), aged ten, who for days, in the secrecy of my parlour, i had drilled in the aid he was to lend me. he was a wonderful little second, and the 132fidelity to truth in his make-up was so amusing that i came near to losing him at the very outset. his ostentatiously darned stockings and patched breeches, long since outgrown, were a surprising sight in the great parlours of our host, and senator gwin, seeing the little urchin who, he thought, had strayed in from the street, took him by the shoulder and was about to lead him out when some one called to him, “look out, senator! you’ll be getting yourself into trouble! that’s aunt ruthy’s boy, ike!”
mrs. partington was not the only yankee character among that throng of princes and queens, and dames of high degree, for mr. eugene baylor, of louisiana, impersonated a figure as amusing—that of “hezekiah swipes,” of vermont. he entered into his part with a zest as great as my own, and kept “a-whittlin’ and a-whittlin’ jes’ as if he was ter hum!” for myself, i enjoyed a peculiar exhilaration in the thought that, despite my amusing dress, the belles of the capital (and many were radiant beauties, too) gave way before aunt ruthy and her nonsense. as i observed this my zeal increased, and not even senator clay, who feared my gay spirits would react and cause me to become exhausted, could prevail upon me to yield a serious word or one out of my character throughout the festal night. if i paid for it, as i did, by several days’ retirement, i did not regret it, since the evening itself went off so happily.
mrs. gwin, as the queen of louis quatorze, a regal lady, stood receiving her guests with president buchanan beside her as aunt ruthy entered, knitting industriously, but stopping ever and anon to pick up a stitch which the glory of her surroundings caused her to drop. approaching my hostess and her companion, i first made my greetings to mrs. gwin, with comments on her “invite,” and wondered, looking up at the windows, if she “had 133enough venerators to take off the execrations of that large assemblage”; but, when she presented mrs. partington to the president, “lor!” exclaimed that lady, “air you ralely ‘old buck’? i’ve often heern tell o’ old buck up in beanville, but i don’t see no horns!”
“no, madam,” gravely responded the president, assuming for the nonce the cynic, “i’m not a married man!”
it was at this memorable function that lord napier (who appeared in the character of mr. hammond, the first british minister to the united states) paid his great tribute to mrs. pendleton. her appearance on that occasion was lovely. she was robed in a white satin gown made dancing length, over which were rare lace flounces. a golden eagle with wings outstretched covered her corsage, and from her left shoulder floated a long tricolour sash on which, in silver letters, were the words “e pluribus unum.” a crown of thirteen flashing stars was set upon her well-poised head, and a more charming interpretation in dress of the national emblem could scarcely have been devised.
ah! but that was a remarkable throng! my memory, as i recall that night, seems like a long chain, of which, if i strike but a single link, the entire length rattles! beautiful thérèse chalfant pugh as “night”—what a vision she was, and what a companion picture mrs. douglas, who, as “aurora,” was radiant in the pale tints of the morning! there were mimic marchionesses, and kings of england and france and prussia; white ladies of avenel and dukes of buckingham, maids of athens and saragossa, gypsies and fairies, milkmaids, and even a buxom barmaid; antipholus himself and the priestess norma, pierrots and follies, peasants and highland chiefs moving in heterogeneous fashion in the great ballrooms.
barton key, as an english hunter, clad in white satin 134breeks, cherry-velvet jacket, and jaunty cap, with lemon-coloured high-top boots, and a silver bugle (upon which he blew from time to time) hung across his breast, was a conspicuous figure in that splendid happy assemblage, and mlle. de montillon was a picture in the polish character costume in which her mother had appeared when she danced in a polonaise before the empress at the tuilleries.
sir william gore ouseley, the “knight of the mysterious mission,” attracted general attention in his character of knight commander of the bath. the baroness de staeckl and miss cass were models of elegance as french court beauties, and mrs. jefferson davis as mme. de sta?l dealt in caustic repartee as became her part, delivered now in french and again in broken english, to the annihilation of all who had the temerity to cross swords with her.
among the guests “our furrin relations” were numerously represented, and i remember well the burst of laughter which greeted mrs. partington when she asked lady napier, with a confidential and sympathetic air, “whether the queen had got safely over her last encroachment.” incidentally she added some good advice on the bringing up of children, illustrating its efficacy by pointing to ike, whom she “was teaching religiously both the lethargy and the cataplasm!”
my memories of mrs. gwin’s ball would be incomplete did i not mention two or more of aunt ruthy’s escapades during the evening. the rumour of my intended impersonation had aroused in the breast of a certain baltimorean youth the determination to disturb, “to break up mrs. clay’s composure.” i heard of the young man’s intention through some friend early in the evening, and my mother-wit, keyed as it was to a pitch of alertness, promptly aided me to the overthrow of the venturesome hero. he came garbed as a newsboy, and, nature having provided him with lusty lungs, he made amusing announcements as to the attractions of his wares, at the most unexpected moments. under his arm he carried a bundle of papers which he hawked about in a most professional manner. at an unfortunate moment he walked hurriedly by as if on his rounds, and stopping beside me he called out confidently, “baltimore sun! have a ‘sun,’ madam?”
mrs. jefferson davis
of mississippi
135“tut, tut! man!” said mrs. partington, horrified. “how dare you ask such a question of a virtuous female widow woman?” then bursting into sobs and covering her eyes with the broad text of the “declaration of independence,” she cried, “what would my poor paul think of that?” to the hilarious laughter of those who had gathered about us, the routed hero retreated hastily, and, for the remainder of the evening, restrained by a wholesome caution, he gave aunt ruthy a wide berth.
such kind greetings as came to this unsophisticated visitor to the ball! “you’re the sweetest-looking old thing!” exclaimed “lushe” lamar before he had penetrated my disguise. “i’d just like to buss you!”
i had an amusing rencontre with senator seward that evening. that this pronounced northerner had made numerous efforts in the past to meet me i was well aware; but my southern sentiments were wholly disapproving of him, and i had resisted even my kinder-hearted husband’s plea, and had steadily refused to permit him to be introduced to me. “not even to save the nation could i be induced to eat his bread, to drink his wine, to enter his domicile, to speak to him!” i once impetuously declared, when the question came up in private of attending some function which the northern senator was projecting.
at mrs. gwin’s ball, however, i noticed mr. seward hovering in my neighbourhood, and i was not surprised when he, “who could scrape any angle to attain an end,” as my cousin miss comer said so aptly, finding none 136brave enough to present him, took advantage of my temporary merging into mr. shillaber’s character, and presented himself to “mrs. partington.” he was very courteous, if a little uncertain of his welcome, as he approached me, and said, “aunt ruthy, can’t i, too, have the pleasure of welcoming you to the federal city? may i have a pinch of snuff with you?” it was here that mrs. partington reminded him that the donor of her snuff-box “loved the kawnstitewtion.” i gave him the snuff and with it a number of partingtonian shots about his opinions concerning “slave oligawky,” which were fearless even if “funny,” as the senator seemed to find them, and i passed on. this was my first and only meeting with mr. seward.[15]
i was so exhilarated at the success of my r?le that i had scarce seen our cousins during the evening (i am sure they thought me an ideal chaperone), though i caught an occasional glimpse of the gauzy-winged “titania,” and once i saw the equally tiny miss comer go whirling down the room in a wild galop with the tall lieutenant scarlett, of her majesty’s guards, who was conspicuous in a uniform as rubescent as his patronymic. and i recall seeing an amusing little bit of human nature in connection with our hostess, which showed how even the giving of this superb entertainment could not disturb mrs. gwin’s perfect oversight of her household.
the “wee sma’ hours” had come, and i had just finished complimenting my hostess on her “cold hash and cider,” when the butler stepped up to her and, in discreet pantomime, announced that the wine had given out.
137then she, queen for the nonce of the most magnificent of the bourbons, did step aside and, lifting her stiff moiré skirt and its costly train of cherry satin (quilled with white, it was), did extract from some secret pocket the key to the wine cellar, and pass it right royally to her menial. this functionary shortly afterward returned and rendered it again to her, when, by the same deft manipulation of her rich petticoats, the implement was replaced in its repository, and the queen once more emerged to look upon her merrymakers.
for years mrs. gwin’s fancy ball has remained one of the most brilliant episodes in the annals of ante-bellum days in the capital. for weeks after its occurrence the local photograph and daguerreotype galleries were thronged with patrons who wished to be portrayed in the costumes they had worn upon the great occasion; and a few days after the ball, supposing i would be among that number, mr. shillaber sent me a request for my likeness, adding that he “would immortalise me.” but, flushed with my own success, and grown daring by reason of it, i replied that, being hors de combat, i could not respond as he wished. i thanked him for his proffer, however, and reminded him that the public had anticipated him, and that by their verdict i had already immortalised myself!
