 | THE BALL. Georgia scenes |  |
THE BALL.
Being on a visit to the city of —, about ten years
ago, my old friend, Jack De Bathle gave me an invitation
to a ball, of which he was one of the managers. Jack
had been the companion of my childhood, my boyhood,
and my early manhood; and through many a merry
dance had we hopt, and laughed, and tumbled down
together, in the morning of life. Dancing was really,
in those days, a merry making business. Except the
minuet, which was introduced only to teach us the graces,
and the congo, which was only to chase away the
solemnities of the minuet, it was all a jovial, heart-stirring,
foot-stirring amusement. We had none of your
none of your detestable, disgusting gallapades. The
waltz would have crimsoned the cheek of every young
lady who attended a ball in my day; and had the gallapade
been commenced in the ball room, it would have
been ended in the street. I am happy to say that the
waltz has met with but very little encouragement in
Georgia as yet—the gallapade with none. Ye fair of
my native land—Ye daughters of a modest race! blush
them away from the soil, which your mothers honored
by their example, and consecrated with their ashes.
Born to woman's loftiest destinies, it ill becomes you to
stoop from your high estate, to ape the indecencies of
Europe's slaves. It is yours to command—not to obey.
Let vice approach you in what form she may—as the
handmaid of wit and talents, the mistress of courts, or
the queen of fashion, fail not to meet her, with the frown
of indignant virtue, and the flush of offended modesty.
There is a majesty in these, which has ever commanded
her homage—There is a loveliness in these, which will
ever command the admiration of the world. The interest
which I feel, in the character of the fair daughters of
America, is my apology for this sober digression.
Though DeBathle is but two months younger than I
am, he still dances occasionally; and to this circumstance
in part, but more particularly to the circumstance of his
being a married man, is to be ascribed his appointment,
of manager; the custom now being, to have one third,
or one half the managers, married men. This would
be a great improvement on the management of balls in
olden time, could the married men only manage to keep
out of the card-room. Would they take the direction
of the amusement into their hands, their junior colleagues
would then have an opportunity of sharing the
pleasures of the evening, a privilege which they seldom
men are not appointed with the expectation that they
will perform the duties of the office; but to quiet the
scruples of some half dozen or more “charming creatures,”
who, though they never fail to attend a ball, will
not condescend to do so, until they are perfectly satisfied
it is to be conducted with the utmost gravity, dignity,
decorum and propriety. For these assurances they look
first to “the face of the paper,” (the ball-ticket,) and if
they do not find on it a goodly number of responsible
names, (such as by reasonable presumption, are well
broke to petticoat government,) they protest against it
—tell a hundred amiable little fibs, to conceal the cause
of their opposition—torture two or three beaux half to
death with suspense, and finally conclude to go “just to
keep from giving offence.” But if the endorsers be
“potent, grave and reverend seniors,” schooled as aforesaid;
why then, one difficulty at least is removed; for
though it is well known, that these are “endorsers without
recourse in the first instance,” it is equally well
known, that they may be ultimately made liable; for if
the juniors fail to fulfil their engagements, a lady has nothing
to do, but to walk into the card room, take a senior
by the nape of the neck, lead him into the ball room,
present her ticket with his name upon it, in the presence
of the witnesses there assembled, and she is sure of
ample satisfaction.
When De Bathle and I reached the ball room, a large
number of gentlemen had already assembled. They
all seemed cheerful and happy. Some walked in couples
up and down the ball room, and talked with great
volubility; but none of them understood a word that
himself or his companion said.
“Ah, sir; how do you know that?”
Because the speakers showed plainly by their looks
and actions, that their thoughts were running upon their
own personal appearance, and upon the figure they
would cut, before the ladies, when they should arrive;
and not upon the subject of the discourse. And furthermore,
their conversation was like that of one talking in
his sleep,—without order, sense, or connexion. The
hearer always made the speaker repeat in sentences and
half sentences; often interrupting him with “what?”
before he had proceeded three words in a remark; and
then laughed affectedly, as though he saw in the senseless
unfinished sentence, a most excellent joke. Then
would come his reply, which could not be forced into
connexion with a word that he had heard; and in the
course of which, he was treated with precisely the civility
which he had received. And yet they kept up
the conversation with lively interest, as long as I listened
to them.
Others employed themselves in commenting, good-humoredly,
upon each other's dresses, and figure; while
some took steps—awkwardly.
In the mean time the three junior managers met and
agreed upon the parts which they were to perform.
Herein I thought they were unfortunate. To Mr. Flirt,
a bustling, fidgety, restless little man, about five feet
two and a half inches high, was assigned the comparatively
easy task of making out and distributing the numbers.
Mr. Crouch, a good humored, sensible, but rather
unpolished gentleman, undertook to attend the carriages,
and to transport their precious treasures to the ball-room,
where Mr. Dupree was to receive them, and see to their
safe keeping, until the dancing commenced. The parts
of the married men, up to the opening of the ball, was
settled by common law. They were to keep a sharp
look out, lend a helping hand in case of emergency,
strangers, did the same; and finally, to give any
gentleman, who might have come to the ball, encumbered
with a little loose change, an opportunity of relieving
himself.
Things were thus arranged, Crouch standing with a
group of gentlemen, of which I was one, in the entry
leading to the ball room; when Mr. Flirt broke upon
us as if the whole town was on fire, and all the *******
had risen, with “Good God, Crouch! There's Mrs.
Mushy's carriage at the door, full of ladies, and not a
manager there to recive them! I'll swear it is too bad!”
“Horrible!” said Crouch; and away he went. But
Mrs. Mushy, with Miss Feedle and Deedle, had reached
the foot of the stairs unattended, before Crouch or even
Flirt, who was considerably in advance of him, met
them. Mrs. Mushy, who was a lady of very full habit,
looked huffishly as Flirt took her hand, and Miss Feedle,
and Miss Deedle blushed sarcastically; Flirt made a
hundred apologies, and Crouch looked first at Mrs.
Mushy, then at Flirt, and tittered. “What a lovely
figure Mrs. Mushy is!” said he, as he turned off from
delivering his charge to Dupree. “Oh, Mr. Crouch,”
said Flirt, “if you begin making your fun of the ladies a'-ready,
we'd better break up the ball at once. By heaven,
it's a shame.” “Upon my honor, Mr. Flirt,” said
Crouch, “I think she's beautiful. I always liked a light
and airy figure; particularly for a ball room.” By
this time Dupree had joined us. Flirt left us, obviously
in a pet; but we hardly missed him, before back he rushed
from the ball room, exclaiming, “Why, gracious heavens,
Dupree! there are those three ladies sitting in the
ball room, and not a gentleman in the room to entertain
them. Do go and introduce some of the gentlemen to
them, if you please.” “Flugens!” said Dupree, “what
several ineffectual attempts, he at length prevailed on Mr.
Noozle and Mr. Boozle to be made acquainted with the
ladies.
Mr. N. seated himself to the right of Mr. F., and Mr.
B. to the left of Miss D.; Mrs. M. occupying a seat between
the girls, and looking, for all the world, as if she
thought—“Well, this is the last ball I'll ever attend, unless
it's a little better managed.” But the young ladies
looked like a May morning, as soon as the gentlemen
approached. After a pause of two minutes,
“It's a very pleasant evening,” said Mr. Noozle to
Miss Feedle.
“Delightful,” said Miss Feedle to Mr. Noozle.
“It's a delightful evening,” said Miss Deedle to Mr.
Boozle.
“Very pleasant,” said Mr. Boozle to Miss Deedle.
“I thought there were some married managers of the
ball,” said Mrs. Mushy, emphatically. Here ensued a
long pause.
“Are you fond of dancing?” said Mr. Noozle.
“Ah! what's that you say, Noozle?”—said Boozle;
“you are not fond of dancing! Come, come, that'll
never do. You tip the pigeon-wing too well for that.”
“You quite misapprehend me, sir,” returned Mr. Noozle.
“Mine was not a declaration, touching in the remotest
degree my personal predilections or antipathies,
but a simple interrogatory to Miss Feedle. No sir;
though I cannot lay claim to the proficiency of Noverre,
in the saltant art, I am, nevertheless, extravagantly fond
of dancing; too much so, I fear, for one who has but just
commenced the veginti lucubrationes annorum, as that
inimitable, and fascinating expositor of the elements of
British jurisprudence, Sir William Blackstone, observes.
Here the young gentlemen were forced to resign
their seats to a number of ladies, who now entered the
ball room.
“What an intelligent young gentleman!” said Miss
Feedle—“I declare I must set my cap for him.”
“I think the other much the most interesting of the
two,” said Miss Deedle. “He's too affected, and too
fond of showing off his learning. What did he call
that “inimitable expositor?” Jinny Crashonis.
The seats were soon filled with ladies; almost all of
whom, (except Mrs. Mushy,) entered the room in the
same style, which seemed to have been strictly copied from
the movement of the kildee. They took their seats, with
precisely the motion with which the school-girls, in my
younger days, used to make “cheeses,” as they called
them, with their frocks.
The musicians were all blacks, but neatly dressed.
The band consisted of three performers on the violin,
one on the clarionet, one on the tamborine, and one on
the triangle.
The ladies ceased coming, and nothing seemed now
wanting to begin the amusement, but the distribution of
the numbers; but Mr. Flirt was running up and down
stairs every minute after—no one knew what; and
with great anxiety, no one knew why. He would enter
the room, look the ladies all over, then down he would
go; then return and go through the same evolutions.
The band struck up a spirit-stirring tune, in which the
tamborine player distinguished himself. For dignified
complaisancy of countenance, under his own music, he
rivalled Mr. Jenkins; and he performed the rattle-snake
note with his middle finger, in a style which threw Miss
Crump entirely in the shade. The band ceased, and
begin?” but Mr. Flirt still kept up his anxious movements.
“In the name of sense, Flirt,” said Crouch, impatiently,
as the little man was taking a third survey of the
ladies, “what are you bobbing up and down stairs for?
Why don't you distribute the tickets?”
“Oh,” said Flirt, “it's early yet. Let's wait for
Miss Gilt and Miss Rino. I know they're coming, for
Mr. Posey, and Mr. Tulip told me they saw them
dressed, and their carriages at the door, an hour ago.”
“Blast Miss Gilt and Miss Rino!” returned Crouch.
“Is the whole company to be kept waiting for them?
Now, sir, if the tickets are not handed round in three
minutes, I'll announce to the company that Mr. Flirt
will permit no dancing until Miss Gilt and Miss Rino,
shall think proper to honor us with their presence.”
“Oh, zounds!” said Flirt, “I'm not waiting for them.
I thought it was too early to begin the drawing.
It's quite unfashionable in New-York to commence
drawing before 9 o'clock.” (Miss R.'s father was computed
at a cool hundred and fifty, and Miss G.'s at a
round hundred thousand.)
In a few minutes the tickets were distributed, and Mr.
Flirt proceeded to call, “No. I—First Cotillon,” with
most imposing majesty. Then numbers 2, 3 and 4, of
the same; then No. 1, of the second, and so on.
Five sets of cotillons could occupy the floor at a time;
and Flirt had just called No. 2, of the fifth, when Miss
Rino entered the room, and immediately afterwards Miss
Gilt. Flirt had put two supernumerary tickets in the
hat, in anticipation of their coming; and forgetting every
thing else, he suspended the calling, and rushed to deliver
them, as soon as the ladies made their appearance.
He went to Miss Rino first, as she entered first; but
she was obviously piqued at seeing the sets on the floor
before her arrival. She refused to take a number; declaring,
(very sweetly,) that she left home with no idea of
dancing. Flirt insisted, earnestly and prettily, upon
her taking a number; but she hesitated, looked in the
hat, then looked at Flirt bewitchingly, and declared she
did not wish to dance.
In the mean time Miss Gilt began to feel herself slighted,
and she said, in a pretty audible tone, “as for her
part, she would like very well to draw a number if she
could be permitted to do so.” Several gentlemen who
had gathered around her, hastened to Flirt to remind
him of the indignity which he was offering to Miss Gilt;
but before they reached him, Miss Rino drew No. 3, of
the fifth cotillon from the hat.
Unfortunately, Crouch's patience had worn out, just
before Miss R. made up her mind to take a ticket; and
he took the office which Flirt had abdicated. He called
No. 3 twice; but the call was not responded to. He
then called No. 4, when Miss Jones appeared, and took
her place. He next called No. 1, of the sixth set, when
a lady appeared, which completed the cotillon. The last
lady had but just taken her place, when Miss Rino, led
on by Mr. Noozle, advanced, and announced that her's
was No. 3, of the fifth set. Miss Jones was instinctively
retiring from the august presence of Miss Rino, when
she was stopped by Crouch, with “Keep your place,
Miss Jones, I think you are entitled to it.”
“Is'nt this No 3, of the fifth cotillon?” said Miss Rino,
holding out her ticket to Mr. Crouch.
“Yes, Miss,” said Crouch, “but I think it has forfeited
its place. Indeed, I do not think it was even drawn,
when Miss Jones took her place.”
This drew from Miss Rino the expression of countenance,
which immediately precedes a sneeze.
“Upon every principle of equity and justice,” said
Mr. Boozle, “Miss Rino is entitled to”—
“Music!” said Crouch.
“Hands round!” said the fiddler; and the whole band
struck into something like “The Dead March.”
“This matter shall not end here,” said Noozle, as he
led Miss Rino back to her seat.
“Oh, Mr. Noozle,” returned Miss Rino, “don't think
any thing of it. I declare I had not the least wish in
the world to dance. Surely you would not object to
any thing the polite and accomplished Mr. Crouch
would do!”
Noozle walked the floor in portentous abstraction—
wiped his face with terrific emphasis—and knocked his
hair back with the slap belligerent.
The ladies who were not dancing became alarmed
and sedate: (Miss Gilt excepted;) the gentlemen collected
in groups, and carried on an animated conversation.
As all but myself, who could give a correct version
of the affair, were engaged in the dance, the Noozle
party had gained over to their side most the company
present, before the dance ended. After various enquiries,
rumors and corrections, the company generally
settled down upon the following statement, as confirmed
by the joint testimony of Rino, Flirt and Noozle.
“Crouch had an old spite against Miss Rino, for nothing
at all—Began cursing and abusing her because she
was not the first lady in the room—Refused to wait two
minutes for her arrival—As soon as he saw her enter
the ball room, usurped Mr. Flirt's appointment, and commenced
calling the numbers on purpose to cut her out.
She, seeing his object, snatched up a number, and rushed
to her place; but it was occupied by Miss Jones; who
and was actually retiring, when Crouch seized her by
the arm, jerked her back, and said “Keep your place,
Miss! You're entitled to it, if Miss Rino has got the
number; and you shall have it.” And when Mr. Noozle
was pleading with him just to look at Miss Rino's
ticket, he just turned upon his heel, and called for the
music. This was all reported to Crouch, as confirmed
by the trio before mentioned. He pronounced it all an infamous
lie, from beginning to end, and was with difficulty
restrained from going immediately after Flirt, to pick
him up, as he said, and wear him out upon Noozle.
As soon as the first cotillon ended, the Crouch party
began to gain ground; but not without warm words between
several gentlemen, and a general depression of
spirits through the company.
The dancing of the ladies was, with few exceptions,
much after the same fashion. I found not the least difficulty
in resolving it into the three motions, of a turkey-cock
strutting, a sparrow-hawk lighting, and a duck
walking. Let the reader suppose a lady beginning a
strut at her own place, and ending it (precisely as does
the turkey-cock,) three feet nearer the gentleman opposite
her; then giving three sparrow-hawk bobs, and
then waddling back to her place like a duck; and he
will have a pretty correct idea of their dancing. Not
that the three movements were blended at every turn of
the dance; but that one or more of the three answered
to every turn. The strut prevailed most in ballancing;
the bobs, when ballanced to; and the waddle, when
going round. To all this, Mrs. Mushy was an exception.
When she danced, every particle of her danced,
in spite of herself.
There was as little variety in the gentlemen's dancing
as there was in the ladies'. Any one who has seen a
seen nearly all of it; the principal difference being, that
some scraped with a pull of the foot, some with a push,
and some with both.
“I suppose,” said I to a gentleman, “they take no
steps because the music will not admit of them?”
“Oh no,” said he; “It's quite ungenteel to take steps.”
I thought of the wag's remarks about Miss Crump's
music. “If this be their dancing,” thought I, “what
must their mourning be!”
A splendid supper was prepared at twelve o'clock; and
the young ladies ate almonds, raisins, apples, oranges,
jelly, sillabub, custard, candy, sugar-plums, kisses and
cake, as if they had been owing them an old grudge.
But the married gentlemen did not come up to supper.
“And how did the quarrel end?”
“Oh; I had like to have forgot the denouement of the
quarrel.”
A correspondence opened the next morning between
the parties, in which Noozle was diffuse, and Crouch laconic.
They once came this near an amicable adjustment
of the difference. Noozle's second, (for the fashion
is, for the principals to get into quarrels, and for the
seconds to get them out,) agreed, if Crouch would strike
the word “it,” out of one of his letters, his friend would
be perfectly satisfied.
Mr. Crouch's second admitted that the removal of the
word would not change the sense of the letter the least;
but that Mr. Crouch having put his life and character in
his hands, he felt bound to protect them with the most
scrupulous fidelity; he could not therefore consent to
expunge the objectionable word, unless the challenge
were withdrawn. To show, however, his reluctance to
the shedding of blood; and to acquit his friend, in the eyes
of the public, of all blame, he would take it upon himself
to the “t” Mr. Crouch should expunge the “i.” This
proposition was rejected; but in return, it was submitted,
that if Mr. Crouch would expunge the “t” the “i”
might remain. To which it was replied, that the alteration
would convert the whole sentence into nonsense;
making it read “i is,” instead of “it is,” &c. Here
the seconds separated, and soon after the principals met;
and Crouch shot Noozle, in due form, and according to
the latest fashion, through the knees. I went to see him
after he had received his wound; and poor fellow, he
suffered dreadful tortures. So much, said I, for a young
lady's lingering from a ball an hour too long, in order to
make herself conspicuous.
BALDWIN.
| THE BALL. Georgia scenes | |