DINNERS, DRESS, DANCES, HORSE-RACES
If the grave New Jersey Presbyterian tutor—who has given us so faithful a picture of domestic life in the Northern Neck—saw fit to burn his candles at night while he described the dresses, dinners, and dances of his day, surely it is worth our while to pause in our history to consider them.
The planter's daily life began betimes with an early breakfast. The planter was an early riser. He had retired early. The myrtle-berry candle—the costly spermaceti—were not brilliant enough to tempt late hours. Often before daybreak in the winter, when the nights were long, he might be found at his secretary arranging the work of the day. Washington at Mount Vernon would light his own fire and read by candle-light, then breakfast on tea and Indian-meal cakes at eight o'clock. But to all rules he and his mother were exceptions! The usual life of the planter admitted more luxury. His breakfast was a good one! But first, having risen early, he mixed with his own hands the great beaker of crushed ice, peach-brandy, and mint to be sent around to all the rooms as an appetizer. Even the children were admitted to this morning loving-cup. Virginians believed in it!
Luckily the breakfast is not left to a twentieth-century imagination—which would probably suggest an orange, coffee, and roll. The Rev. Andrew Burnaby, Vicar of Greenwich, London, had the pleasure of eating a Virginia breakfast in 1759: "The ancient custom of eating meat for breakfast still continues. At the top of the table where the lady of the house presides, there is constantly tea and coffee, but the rest of the table is garnished out with roasted fowls, ham, venison, game and other dainties. There is scarcely a Virginia lady who breakfasts without ham!"
Dinner at home or abroad was served not later than three, and was preceded by at least one mint julep all around. At one home dinner we read of four kinds of fish, "Sheeps-head, Bass, Perch, Picked Crab: Ham, Mutton, vegetables, pudding, fruits, cheese, old Madeira," which to be presentable must have crossed the ocean more than once. A dinner included three courses,—soup, then the whole dinner placed on the table at once, then dessert. Ducks were served at the fish feasts. The delicious canvasback duck was by no means so highly appreciated as it is now. They were left in comparative peace to feed upon the tender wild celery of the Potomac marshes. The diamond-backed terrapin was much too abundant to be considered a dainty. To save the scarcer and costlier pork, terrapin was fed to the negroes. Laws were enacted in Maryland forbidding the slaves' rations to be exclusively of terrapin!
At one of General Washington's ceremonious dinners there was soup, fish roasted and boiled, "gammon of bacon" and fowl. The middle of the table was decorated with artificial flowers and small images. The dessert was a pudding and apple pie, ice-cream, jellies, melons, apples, peaches, nuts. This dinner was recorded as "a great dinner." Today it would be considered "a good enough dinner, to be sure, but not a dinner to ask a man to!" Some of the receipts for these old Virginia dinners have been preserved in the Randolph family—notably the receipts for English plum pudding, and for the Christmas mince pie.
Tables were richly furnished with burnished pewter and handsome silver. So many articles of silver—bowls, cups, and salvers—were imported from England that the thrifty planter was constrained to import an engraver as well, in order that his arms and crests might be engraved under his personal supervision. The china was, of course, English or of English importation. We manufactured no china, imported none from the East—probably none from France. Mary Washington's china we know was blue and white. Knives were of fine Sheffield steel, and served other uses than cutting. How else did the colonial dames eat their peas? Surely not with the little steel fork with two wide-apart prongs. This is a painful reflection, but we must remember that a good many ladies whom the world has admired—Helen of Troy, the Mother of the Gracchi, all of its earth-born goddesses, in fact, until Queen Elizabeth—had to content themselves at dinner with the utensils God had given them. They had no forks at all—not even a chop-stick! Hence the early need for napkins.
There was no lack of good napery in Mary Washington's time, but the usage of napkins differed somewhat from the usage of to-day, at least at General Washington's dinners.
The destruction of cattle by Tarleton's Red Dragoons caused almost a famine of cream and butter, immediately after the war, so that "trifle" and ice-cream were articles of prime luxury. To obtain sufficient cream for the dish known variously as trifle, syllabub, or floating island, it was sometimes necessary to save it until it soured or grew rancid.
Mrs. Morris tells of such a misfortune at one of Washington's state dinners. She did not hesitate to consign her own unswallowed morsel to her napkin, but records with wicked glee that "poor Lady Washington ate a whole plate-full without wincing."
At dinner much ceremony was observed. "I have fortunately learned by heart all the ceremonies of the table, and will make no mistakes," says the tutor exultantly, when he finds it necessary to preside in the illness of the mistress and absence of the master. Toasts were regularly drunk at dinner if there were guests—but postponed to the evening bowl of "toddy" or punch when the family was alone. No day passed without these toasts. "To the King and Queen, the Governor of Virginia and his Lady, and success to American Trade and Commerce." After these each person was called upon by the master for his toast. "I gave the Lovely Laura," says our tutor—Laura being the name in Cupid's court for Miss Betty Beatty.
One might trace the changes in political feeling by these toasts. At first, after the royal family and success to Virginia commerce, only the respective favorites among the ladies. Presently we observe that "The Sons of Liberty" have crept into the company to demand a toast. Then an ominous toast follows the king and all the rest, "Wisdom and Unity to the Conference now assembled." Then the royal family, governor, and his lady are dropped altogether, and the toast, praying for "Wisdom and Unity," takes their places. The Prince de Broglie records the toasts at General Washington's table,—"The United States of America, the King of France, the Queen"; "Success with our Enemies and the Ladies"; "Success in War and Love." After these, the Marquis de Lafayette and the military heroes of the war. General Washington, when President, discontinued this custom, contenting himself with grave bows, and "Your Health, Sir; your Health, Madam," all around the table, until every one was thus honored.
One can hardly repress a shudder at the accounts given by Robert Maclay and others of the deadly dulness and formality of General Washington's state dinners. He kept up this formal coldness to the end. Free and easy manners came in with Mr. Jefferson and long trousers. Fancy this incident occurring at General Washington's table: "Here's to thy Absent Broad-brim Friend Hollingworth," from Dolly Madison. "Here's to thy Absent Kerchief, Friend Dorothy," from the Quaker.
At informal dinners among neighbors the company "sat until sunset," then coffee, and at nine o'clock supper,—artichokes, crabs, oysters, strawberries and cream, the punch-bowl again. Record is made of "Sudden Pains and Sickness at the Stomach at night."
The dancing class was held in succession at all the mansions along the Potomac as far as Mount Vernon. Mr. Christian—stern but elegant—taught minuets and country-dances, first politely requesting each guest "to step a minuet." He does not hesitate to rap two young misses across the shoulder for a fault, and to inform "one young Fellow" that he has observed him "through the course of the Dance," to be "insolent and wanton," and shall require him to alter his manner or leave the school. Then, when candles are lighted, having danced all day, Mr. Christian winds up with another minuet and country-dance, and at seven is glad to retire. But fun holds awhile longer. They all "play Button to get Pauns for Redemption, and carry it on with sprightliness and Decency." The tutor is in luck. "In the course of redeeming my Pauns I had several Kisses of the Ladies." Then Colonel Philip Ludwell Lee arrives in a travelling chariot from Williamsburg. "Four candles on the table make the room luminous and Splendid." There is a fine supper with four instructed waiters. After supper all gather around the fire and "play 'break the Pope's neck'" until ten o'clock, and then to bed.
"Almost every lady wears a red cloak,"[10] says our tutor; "and when they ride out they tye a red handkerchief over their Head and face, so that when I first came to Virginia I was distressed whenever I saw a Lady, for I thought she had a Tooth-Ach." At a five-days' ball at Squire Lee's "the Ladies were dressed Gay and splendid, and when Dancing their Skirts and Brocades rustled and trailed behind them. For five days and nights they Danced minuets, reels, marches: Giggs (an exaggerated dance resembling the Trescone of Italy) and, last of all, Country Dances to the Music of a French Horn and two Violins, for," says the astonished tutor, "Blow high, Blow Low, the Virginians are genuine blood—they will Dance or die!"
The plantation fiddler belonging, as did the barber, shoemaker, and carpenter, to each establishment, seems to have sufficed for Mr. Christian's class. At this the gentlemen were "drest in black, superfine broadcloth, laced Ruffles, Black silk Stockings, buckles at knee and instep. They wore powder on their Hair, or the short Wig now in fashion."
The ladies, well, the principal ladies, must each sit for her own portrait.
First, Mary Washington's granddaughter, "Miss Jenny Washington,[11] about seventeen, not a handsome face, but neat in her Dress, well-proportioned, and has an easy, winning Behaviour. She is not forward to begin a conversation, yet when spoken to is extremely affable without assuming any girlhood affectation or pretending to be overcharged with Wit. She moves with propriety when she dances a Minuet, and without any Flirts or vulgar Capers when She dances a Reel or Country-Dance. She plays well on Harpsichord and Spinet, understands the principles of Musick and therefore performs her Tunes in perfect time—a neglect of which always makes music intolerable, but it is a fault almost universal in young Ladies. She sings likewise to her instrument, has a strong, full voice and a well-judging Ear. Most of the Virginia Girls think it labour quite sufficient to thump the Keys of a Harpsichord," etc. "Her Dress is rich and well-chosen, but not tawdry, nor yet too plain. She appears to-day" (at the dancing class in the morning) "in a chintz cotton gown with an elegant blue Stamp, a sky-blue silk Quilt" (petticoat over which the gown opens), "a spotted apron. Her Hair is a light Brown, it was craped up high with two Rolls at each Side, and on the top a small cap of beautiful Gauze and rich lace, with an artificial flower interwoven."
Very satisfactory indeed for Mary Washington's granddaughter, sister of Bushrod Washington, afterwards judge of the Supreme Court.
Bushrod Washington.
Next, Miss Betsy Lee: "She is a well-set maid of a proper Height, neither high nor low. Her Aspect when she is sitting is masculine and Dauntless: she sits very erect; places her feet with great propriety, her Hands she lays carelessly in her lap and never moves them but when she has occasion to adjust some article of her dress, or to perform some exercise of her Fan. Her Eyes are exactly such as Homer attributes to the Goddess Minerva and her arms resemble those which the same Poet allows to Juno. Her Hair which was a dark Brown was craped up very high and in it she had a Ribbon interwoven with an artificial Flower. At each of her ears dangled a brilliant jewel. She was pinched up rather too near in a long pair of new-fashioned Stays, which I think are a nuisance both to us and themselves—For the late importation of Stays, said to be now most fashionable in London, are produced upwards so high that we can have scarce any view at all of the Ladies' Snowy Bosoms; and on the contrary they are extended downwards so low that Walking must, I think, cause a disagreeable friction of some parts of the Body. I imputed the Flush which was visible in her Face to her being swathed up Body and Soul and Limbs together. She wore a light chintz gown with a blue stamp elegantly made which set well upon her. She wore a blue Silk Quilt. Her dress was rich and fashionable and her behaviour was such as I should expect to find in a Lady whose education had been constructed with some care and skill."
So much for Miss Lee. Now for the country beauty, Miss Aphia Fauntleroy (afterwards married to Captain John Champe Carter of the Revolution).
"Is the best dancer of the whole absolutely!—And the finest Girl! Her head powdered as white as snow and craped in the newest taste. She is the copy of the Goddess of Modesty—very handsome. She seemed to be loved by all her Acquaintances and Admired by every Stranger."
"Miss Priscilla Carter is 16—small of her age, has a mild winning Presence, a sweet obliging Temper, never swears which is here a distinguished virtue, dances finely, plays well on key'd Instruments, is never without what seems to have been a common Gift of Heaven to the fair Sex, the Copia Verborum, or readiness of Expression." (This sweet-tempered fifteen-year-older, a pupil of the Presbyterian tutor, was a young lady of spirit.) "Miss Prissy is much offended! She retains her anger and seems peculiarly resentful, refusing to walk over to the school. Indeed she is much affronted. Monday afternoon by chance I tapp'd her on the Head and wholly in Jest." Five days later the Diary records, "At last Prissy is reconciled," having punished him sufficiently.
Next, Miss Hale, fourteen years old. "She is dressed in a white Holland gown, quilt very fine, a Lawn Apron, has her hair craped high, and upon it a Tuft of Ribbon for a cap. Once I saw her standing. I rose immediately and begged her to accept my Chair. She answered most kindly, 'Sir, I thank you,' and that was all I could extract from this Wonder of her Sex for the two days of the dance, and yet I seemed to have an equal Share in the Favours of her Conversation."
Miss Sally Panton, lately come from England to teach Mr. Turberville's daughters French and English, creates a sensation because she is supposed to have brought with her the latest London fashions. "Her stays are huge, giving her an enormous long Waist. These stays are suited to come up to the upper part of her shoulders, almost to her chin; and are swaithed round her as low as they can possibly be, allowing her no liberty to walk at all. To be sure this is a vastly Modest Dress!" The stays are all right, but "her Head-Dress not to the liking of the Virginia Ladies" being arranged low on the neck, of which they can, on no account approve. "Nevertheless," quoth the tutor, "if her Principles of Religion and her Moral Manner be unexceptionable I shall think her Agreeable."
The last picture thrown on the canvas must be another Miss Lee. "A tall, slim, genteel Girl thirteen years old. She is free from the taciturnity of Miss Hale, yet by no means disagreeably forward. She dances extremely well, and is just beginning to play on the Spinet. She is drest in a neat shell Callico Gown, has very light hair done up high with a feather, and her whole carriage is easy and graceful, and free of formality and Haughtiness, the Common foible here."
For aught we know to the contrary this charming young lady was the beauty who roused an anonymous poet to alliterative verse.
"May mild meridian moonbeams mantle me
With laughing, lisping Lucy Lightfoot Lee."
The ingenuous tutor is delightful. Not once does he interpret the freezing manner, the haughtiness and formality of the maidens to any dislike of himself. Perhaps it did not exist; his successor, also a Presbyterian tutor, married one of them. But not so, I fancy, did these ladies treat young Harry Lee—"our Light-horse Harry," the son of the "Lowland Beauty"—when they met him at the Squire's ball; and surely not thus would the young junior from Princeton College have been impressed by them. One peep within the leaves of that Diary,—a thing impossible to the veriest madcap in his school,—and all would have been over for the Presbyterian tutor, albeit he and young Harry had been college mates.
Two things were absolutely necessary in the etiquette of the minuet,—the pointed foot must be so firm, so straight, that not a crease or wrinkle appeared in the quilted petticoat, and, of course, this quilt must be of a strength and richness: so rich, indeed, that it would "stand alone," yielding not in dance and courtesy.
Evidently Miss Hale at fourteen, and Miss Lee at thirteen, were already in society. In a few years, doubtless, they were all married to Revolutionary officers, two or three, sometimes five, of them falling in course of time to his lot, as was usual in that day of short-lived women. As we have seen, Catherine Willis—afterwards Princess Murat—married at thirteen.
Mary Ambler.
The wife of Chief Justice Marshall, Mary Ambler, was only fourteen years old when she attended the Dunmore ball and captured the young Captain Marshall, who gave the only guinea he possessed to a clergyman for marrying him soon after.
Chief Justice John Marshall.
Arthur Lee said, "In Virginia a man is old at thirty and a woman at twenty." A certain little Alice Lee, twelve years old, wrote this remarkable letter from Stratford in 1772 to a kinsman in London. (Doubtless Miss Alice was one of the dancers at Squire Lee's ball two years later.)
"So you threaten me if I prove deficient in the deference I owe you as a married man, with the power you have of forwarding or retarding my success in the Matrimonial Way.[12] This would be a tremendous threat indeed were I as fond of Matrimony as my young Mistress, as you call her, but happily I am little more than twelve years old and not so eager to tye a Knot which Death alone can Dissolve. And yet I pretend not to ridicule the holy sacred institution, but have all due reverence for that and the worthy people who have entered into the Society, from good and generous motives. It is only those who chuse to be married at all events that I think deserve raillery.... I never saw Westmoreland so dull. I was at Squire Lee's when your letter came. He is the veriest Tramontane in nature; if ever he gets married, if his wife civilizes him, she deserves to be canonized.
"So you can't forbear a fling at femalities; believe me Curiosity is as imputable to the Sons as the Daughters of Eve. Think you there was ever a Lady more curious than our Cousin the Squire? He himself is the greatest of all curiosities, but hang him, how came he to pop twice in my head while I was writing to you!
"The Annapolis Races Commence the 6th of October. The American Compy of Players are there and said to be amazingly improved. I should like to see them, as I think Theatrical Entertainments a rational amusement."
Clever little Mistress Alice! Twelve years old, and already flirting with the sixty-year-old Squire Richard Lee Burgess from Westmoreland, member of the Continental Congress, giver of five-day balls; who yet found time to gather rosebuds, for he actually married sixteen-year-old Sally Poythress after he was sixty-two years old.
It is a great misfortune to us that our observant tutor was not invited to Mount Vernon. Mr. Christian's class met at Mount Vernon, also at "Gunston Hall"—the fine residence of the George Mason who wrote the famous Declaration of Rights in 1776. Mrs. Martha Washington's lovely daughter, Martha Custis, was then just thirteen years old, and there is no doubt, not the least, that she wore a blue silk quilt and had her hair "craped" (crépé) high and interwoven with a feather. On the 18th of April, 1770, Washington records, "Patsy Custis and Milly Posey went to Col. Mason's to the Dancing School."
The discipline of children was stern. Their duties included the courtesies of life as religiously as its business. "I have no Stockings and I swear I won't go to the Dancing School," says fifteen-year-old Bob, who is at the awkward age and dreads society. "'Are Bob and Nancy gone to Mr. Turberville's?' said the Colonel at Breakfast—'Nancy is gone, Sir, Bob stays at Home, he has no shoes!' 'Poh—what nonsense,' says the Colonel. He sends the clerk to the Plantation Store for a pair of Shoes. Bob he takes to his Study and floggs severely for not having given seasonable notice, and sends him instantly to the Dance" in a suitable and proper frame of mind to enjoy himself!
Balls, fish feasts, christenings, cock-fights, horse-races and church-going filled the time as well as visiting and dancing. Everybody went to church through all weathers. In winter the churches were bitterly cold. No provision of any kind for heating them was ever dreamed of. The church was one of the rallying places for the neighborhood. "There are," says the tutor, "three grand divisions of time at the church on Sundays; Viz: before Service giving and receiving letters of business, reading Advertisements" (affixed to the church-doors) "consulting about the price of Tobacco, Grain, &c., and settling either the lineage, Age or qualities of favourite Horses. 2. In the church at Service, prayers read over in haste, a Sermon, seldom under and never over twenty minutes, but always made up of sound morality, or deep-studied Meta-physicks. 3. After Service is over, three quarters of an hour spent in strolling round the church among the crowd in which time invitations are given by gentlemen to go home with them to dinner."
The christenings were seasons of large family gatherings—the silver christening bowl, like the punch-bowl, descending from generation to generation.
There were no "poor whites"—the helpless, hopeless, anæmic race now numerous in Virginia. There were well-instructed men and women in the industrial classes who filled situations as visiting shoemakers, weavers, or housekeepers. The Virginia woman in "The Golden Age" had need of all the help she could get. She married while yet a child—often less than fifteen years old. Her housekeeper was her tower of strength. She helped generally throughout the family, nursing the sick, caring for the children's comfort, and standing sponsor for them in baptism.[13] A letter from one of these humble retainers, a housekeeper at Stratford, somewhere about 1774, has been preserved by which we perceive she represented the wife of Governor Fauquier at a christening.
(Dated) "Stratford, September 27.
"To Miss Martha Corbin—Dear Miss. I gladly embrace this oppertunity of writing to you to put you in mind there is such a being as mySelfe. I did not think you two would have slited me so. Your little cosen matilda was made a cristan the 25th of September. The godmothers was mrs washington miss becy Tayloe Miss Nancy Lawson Stod proxse for Miss Nelly Lee and I for Mrs Fauquer, godfathers was col. Taloe Mr Robert Carter mrs washington Col Frank Lee, the Esq: mr washington and your ant Lee Dessers there Love to you I am your very humble servant Elizabeth Jackson."
It is easy to understand why Miss Jackson should have dignified all the Lees who employed her with large capitals, but why she should thus have honored Miss Nancy Lawson above "mrs. washington" we shall never know in this world, only, as everybody knows, no married lady—even Mrs. John Augustine Washington, our Mary's daughter-in-law—could possibly be as important as that most worshipped of all creatures, a Virginia young lady.
As to the race-horses, we cannot begin to reckon their increased importance. Janus and Yorick are among the immortals! So also should be General Washington's horses,—Ajax, Blueskin, Valiant, and the royal Arabian Magnolia. Nor should Silver-eye be forgotten, nor the lordly Shakespeare, for whose service a groom was appropriated to sleep near him at night in a specially built recess, that his Lordship's faintest neigh might find response.
The men who settled the Northern Neck of Virginia were cavaliers from "Merry England," with an inherited love of horse-racing, and, indeed, all sporting. There was not a Roundhead among them! They liked cards and dancing. Nobody could make them believe that the devil hunted with the hounds and ran with the race-horses.
The early Virginia historians wrote at length about the pedigrees and qualities of horses and the skill of their riders. The old court records have many quaint entries of disputes about "faire starts," and citizens' depositions were taken to settle them; for instance, "Richard Blande, aged 21 yeares Deposeth that in the Race run between John Brodnax and Capt. William Soane now in tryall, the horse belonging to Henry Randolph on w'ch Capt. Soane layed, came after the Start first between the Poles agreed on for their comeing in," etc. William Randolph's task was more difficult. He "Deposeth in ye race between Wm. Epes and Mr. Stephen Cocke," that the latter "endeavoured to gett the other's path, but he did not gett it at two or three jumps nor many more, upon w'ch he josselled on Mr. Epes' path all most part of ye Race."
People took all these things very seriously, and they formed the subjects of conversation until the time came for horse and rider to distinguish themselves in a sterner field.
The horses bred in Virginia were small, fleet, and enduring, varying little from the early English racers,—the immediate descendants of the Arabian horses. There was a fine race-course at Fredericksburg, and Mary Washington's relatives and friends appear in the contests—her sister-in-law's husband, Roger Gregory, always among the foremost. He ran a famous mare, Dimple; Mr. Spotswood, Fearnaught,—a name reasonably to be expected from John Spotswood's horse. Then there were Fashion, Eclipse, Selima, Ariel, Why Not? (why, indeed?), and many more. Purses from ten to two hundred guineas or pounds were the prizes; also "Saddles, Bridles, Cups and Soop Ladles."
Lewis Willis, General Washington's first cousin, worked his farm principally with blooded plough-horses. The dams of Maid of the Oaks and Betsy Blue were plough-horses. Maid of the Oaks—the most splendid creature ever seen—sold for £15,000 to pay, alas! a security debt. For this astonishing statement I have as authority Lewis Willis's son, Byrd Willis,—father of the Princess Murat and brother of the Jack Willis so loved by everybody and by none more than General Washington himself. These were splendid, jovial fellows, full of anecdote and inexhaustible humor. Colonel Byrd Willis left a diary of the good times of his day.
But, alas for all the good times, the little cloud no bigger than a man's hand in 1766 was now darkening the Northern sky. The Gazette, that had chronicled so many merry days, gave its columns to a warning note (July 21, 1774) from "a Virginian," recommending that Fredericksburg suspend its races and contribute purses to the people of Boston; and, indeed, there was no more record of a race before the Revolution.
The Presbyterian tutor, from whom we must now part, was a candidate for the ministry, but saw much to admire and little to condemn in the social life of the Virginians. He had been warned "that Virginia is sickly—that the people there are profane, and exceeding wicked. That there I shall read no Calvinistic Books, nor hear any Presbyterian Sermons." He finds himself under no more nor stronger temptations to any kind of vice—perhaps not so great—as at home, "unless sometimes when I am solicited to dance I am forced to blush" not because of its wickedness—Oh, no!—but "because of my Inability! I Wish it had been a part of my Education to learn an innocent and ornamental qualification for a person to appear even decent in Company!"
This impartial observer of the times in which Mary Washington lived sums up the Virginians thus: "The people are extremely hospitable and Polite—universal characteristics of a gentleman in Virginia. Some swear bitterly, but the practice seems to be generally disapproved. I have heard that this Country is notorious for Gaming, however this may be I have not seen a Pack of Cards, nor a Die since I left home, nor gaming nor Betting of any kind except at the Races. The Northern Neck is a most delightful country—the best people are remarkable for regularity and economy, civil and polite and of the highest quality in Virginia—well acquainted with the formality and ceremony which we find commonly in High Life—sensible, judicious, much given to retirement and study," etc., at length, of which the above extract is a fair example.
Another tutor, one John Davis, presumably a Welshman, who spent, and wrote of, "Four and a Half Years in America," described the Virginians of George Washington's time and neighborhood and the church he attended:—
"No people could exceed these men in politeness. On the piazza of Mr. Thornton's tavern I found a party of gentlemen from the neighboring plantations carousing over a bowl of toddy and smoking cigars. On my ascending the steps to the piazza, every countenance seemed to say, 'This man has a double claim to our attention, for he is a stranger in the place.' In a moment room was made for me to sit down; a new bowl was called for, and every one who addressed me did it with a smile of conciliation. But no man questioned me whence I had come, or whither I was going. A gentleman in every country is the same—and if good breeding consists in sentiment, it was found in the circle I had got into.
"The higher Virginians seem to venerate themselves as men! I am persuaded there was not one in that company who would have felt embarrassed at being admitted to the presence and conversation of the greatest monarch on earth. There is a compound of virtue and vice in every human character. No man was ever faultless; but whatever may be advanced against Virginians, their good qualities will ever outweigh their defects; and when the effervescence of youth has abated, when reason reasserts her empire, there is no man on earth who discovers more exalted sentiments, more contempt of baseness, more love of justice, more sensibility of feeling, than a Virginian.... I found at the taverns every luxury that money can purchase; the richest viands covered the table, and ice cooled the Madeira that had been thrice across the ocean. About eight miles away was Powheek (Pohick) church—a name it claims from a run that flows near its walls. Hither I rode on Sundays and joined the congregation of Parson Weems" [our friend of the hatchet and cherry tree!] "a minister of the Episcopal persuasion, who was cheerful in his mien that he might win men to religion. A Virginian church-yard on a Sunday, resembles rather a race-course than a sepulchral ground. The ladies come to it in coaches, and the men, after dismounting from their horses, make them fast to the trees. The steeples to Virginia churches were designed not for utility but ornament; for the bell is always suspended to a tree a few yards from the church. I was confounded on first entering the church-yard at Powheek to hear 'Steed threaten steed with high and boastful neigh,' nor was I less stunned with the rattling of wheels, the cracking of whips, and the vociferations of the gentlemen to the negroes who accompanied them. One half the congregation was composed of white people, the other of negroes, and Parson Weems preached the great doctrines of salvation as one who had experienced their power."
The Welsh tutor, Davis, and the American tutor and patriot, Fithian, wrote thus of the Virginians of Mary Washington's day, as they saw and knew them. Their horizon was limited to a few representative families in one or two neighborhoods. But a great and good man of the present generation—wise, truthful, candid—has thus recorded his opinion of the Virginians of that period. Says John Fiske: "On the whole it was a noble type of rural gentry that the Old Dominion had to show. Manly simplicity, love of home and family, breezy activity, disinterested public spirit, thorough wholesomeness and integrity,—such were the features of the society whose consummate flower was George Washington."
This section of Virginia could boast a society, more exclusive, if possible, than that of the James River region. It was free from the mixed and motley crowd which infested Williamsburg. Somewhat remote from the commercial centre, the life was that of the landed gentry in England; quieter, more conservative, more leisurely and elegant than the society gathered in towns.
Thomson Mason of the Northern Neck, providing in his will for the education of his sons, adds, "but I positively direct that neither of my sons shall reside on the South Side of James River until the age of twenty-one years, lest they should imbibe more exalted notions of their own importance than I could wish any child of mine to possess." Already there was a protest against a certain lofty manner in vogue among the planters. Fashions that had lasted long began to change.
With the passing of the century Virginia's picturesque Golden Age passed, never to return in the history of this country.
Even while Washington lived and held his stately court,—powdered, in full court-dress, sword at side, and no "hand-shake" for the crowd at his levees,—even then the Golden Age, the age dominated by English influence, had passed. England was no longer the authority in manner and dress. The people wished none of her customs, traditions, or principles. Naturally their hearts had turned to the French. The emancipated Englishman cared no more for family trees, still less for armorial bearings. When Bishop Meade travelled through Virginia to cull material for his history of the old families, he found them reluctant to acknowledge the possession of a coat of arms or to confess a descent from English nobility. "They seemed ashamed of it. Everybody became a 'Democrat,' a 'patriot,' and in the abstract at least 'an advocate of the rights of man.' Many families who were properly entitled to arms, lost the evidence of it in the general neglect which blighted the tree of pedigree." The manner in which Jefferson, in the opening of his autobiography, almost sneers at armorial bearings reflects the feeling of Virginia for many years after the Revolution.
Judge N. Beverley Tucker prefaces a family history with these words, "At this day it is deemed arrogant to remember one's ancestors." Nous avons changé tout cela! At this day it is suicidal to forget them!
In presenting these pictures of social life in Virginia in the eighteenth century, I have been careful to accept the testimony only of those who were actually a part of it. It has become the fashion to idealize that old society as something better than our own. It had its charm of stateliness, of punctilious etiquette, of cordial hospitality; its faults of pompous manner, of excess and vanity, differing as conditions have changed, only in type and expression, from similar blemishes in our own manners of to-day; neither better nor worse, perhaps, as the years have passed. In all that is understood by the word "society" we find many points of resemblance, a family likeness, in fact, to metropolitan society in the nineteenth century.
Has the reader ever sought an intelligent definition of the term "society"?
"Society," says Noah Webster, "is specifically the more cultivated portion of any community, in its social relations and influence; those who give and receive formal entertainments mutually." This sounds reasonable enough, but the literary world of to-day, if we may credit some of its shining lights, takes exception at the word "cultivated."
"Society," says Bishop Huntington, in his "Drawing-room Homily," "is something too formless for an institution, too irregular for an organization, too vital for a machine, too heartless for a fraternity, too lawless for a school. It is a state wherein all realism is suppressed as brutal, all natural expression or frank sign of true feeling as distasteful and startling. Its subjects are more prostrate than the slaves of the East before the Padishah! The individual finds everything decided for him. Provided he imitates copies, and repeats his models, he knows all that he need know, and has entered into salvation."
Evidently, neither now, nor in the Arcadian days of Virginia's Golden Age, has society seen fit to adopt the motto inscribed on the palace gates of the young Alexander Severus, "Let none enter here save the pure in heart." One, than whom none knows it better, has declared it to be to-day "a garden of flowers where 'sweets compacted lie.' But underneath the roses lurks a subtle and venomous serpent whose poison already threatens the fair and beloved of the land."
These eminent satirists are part of the society they condemn. They know it well. And yet we would fain find comfort in the summing up of another who also knew it well. "Society," says Emerson, "is something too good for banning, too bad for blessing. In attempting to settle its character, we are reminded of a tradition in pagan mythology. 'I overheard Jove,' said Silenus, 'talking of destroying the earth. He said he had failed; they were all rogues and vixens going from bad to worse. Minerva said she hoped not; they were only ridiculous little creatures with this odd circumstance,—if you called them bad, they would appear so; if good, they would appear good,—and there was no one person among them which would not puzzle her owl—much more all Olympus—to know whether it was fundamentally good or bad.'"
But whether or no society be fundamentally good or bad, its doings have been in all ages interesting. Max O'Rell declares that the upper ten thousand are alike all over the world; that the million only—as affording original types—are interesting. He is wrong. The world cares more for the fortunate few than for the ordinary mass of mankind. Why do we find in every journal of the day long columns filled with the comings and goings, the up-risings and down-sittings of our wealthy classes? Why do readers never complain of the monotonous round of their travels? People prick up their ears and listen whenever the word "society" is uttered, although fully aware that half we read is invented to meet the hunger of the multitude for society news.
Everybody wants a glimpse of that gallant vessel bearing the elect so gayly down the stream of time,—the stream so full of bitter waters to many. They are more interesting, these voyagers in the painted pleasure boat, than the poor man who shades his eyes with his rough hand to gaze as they pass. They are even more interesting than the crowd running along to cheer, or swimming in the wake for the possible chance of being taken on board. There they go!—the happy hundreds—a "merry chanter" at the prow, a merry crew in the rigging; music, song, the flash of jewels, the perfume of flowers mingling with everyday sights, and sounds of everyday life.
We may assure ourselves that it is possible to be happy on board some other vessel, with a better pilot, and bound for a better port, but life is serious on that vessel. We like to be amused, and are keenly interested in those gayer voyagers.