MRS. ADAMS AT THE COURT OF ST. JAMES
Mary Washington lived long enough to witness the crowning triumph of the colonies, when the proud country that had sought their subjugation was compelled to receive at its Court their accredited Minister. In 1785 John Adams of Massachusetts was chosen for this delicate position. He had nominated Washington for Commander-in-chief of the Colonial troops, he had belonged to the committee which reported the immortal Declaration of Independence, he had been sent in 1777 as commissioner to the Court of Versailles. Moreover, he was the husband of the accomplished, patriotic Abigail Adams,—"a woman of fine personal appearance, good education and noble powers of mind." A fitting pair this to represent the new land that had just won a place among the nations!
In the drawing-rooms of the late queen—the arbiter of social usage for nearly a century—Majesty stood upon a raised platform surrounded by the lights, larger or lesser, of her court. A few ladies only were admitted at a time. These might not clasp the outstretched hand of Majesty. On the back of their hands her own was laid for an instant, and something like a butterfly touch of the lips was permitted. Then to the long line of lesser stars were courtesies rendered, and the "presented" lady passed on and out.
John Adams.
Not so did George the Third and his queen receive. Their guests were assembled in the drawing-room, and the king, accompanied by Lord Onslow, passed around first; the queen, as much as two hours later, made her rounds in a similar fashion.
Mrs. Adams wrote to her sister a description of the first drawing-room attended by the first American Minister to the Court of St. James. The company assembled in silence. The king went around to every person—finding small talk enough to speak to them all—"prudently speaking in a whisper so that only the person next you can hear what is said." King George, Mrs. Adams thought, was "a personable man," but she did not admire his red face and white eyebrows. When he came to her, and Lord Onslow said, "Mrs. Adams," she hastily drew off her right-hand glove; but to her amazement the king stooped and kissed her on her left cheek! There was an embarrassed moment—for Royalty must always begin and end a conversation. George the Third found only this to say:—
"Madam, have you taken a walk to-day?"
"No, Sire."
"Why? Don't you love walking?"
Her impulse was to tell him frankly that all the morning had been given to attiring herself to wait upon him, but she informed him only that she was "rather indolent in that respect," upon which he allowed her the last word, bowed, and passed on. In about two hours it was Mrs. Adams's turn to be presented to the queen. "The queen," she writes, "was evidently embarrassed. I had disagreeable feelings, too. She, however, said: 'Mrs. Adams, have you got into your house? Pray, how do you like the situation of it?'" She, too, yielded the last word, passing on after an earnest assurance that the American lady had nothing to complain of. "She was in purple and silver," said Mrs. Adams in her letter to her sister. "She is not well-shaped nor handsome. As to the ladies of the Court, rank and title may compensate for want of personal charm, but they are in general very plain, ill-shaped and ugly—but don't you tell anybody that I said so!"
From the letter of our Minister's wife, we perceive that fashions in dress had not changed materially since the days when Jenny Washington, Betsy Lee, and Aphia Fauntleroy danced in Westmoreland. The classic David had not yet laid down his stern laws. The train was still looped over an ornate petticoat, and all supported by an enormous hoop; the hair still "craped high," surmounted with feathers, flowers, lace, and gauze. Mrs. Adams, when all ready to set forth to the drawing-room, found time while waiting for her daughter to describe the presentation gowns to her sister in Massachusetts:—
"My head is dressed for St. James, and in my opinion looks very tasty. Whilst my daughter is undergoing the same operation I set myself down composedly to write you a few lines. I directed my manteau-maker to let my dress be elegant, but plain as I could possibly appear with decency. Accordingly it is white lutestring covered and full-trimmed with white crape festooned with lilac ribbon and mock point lace, over a hoop of enormous extent. There is only a narrow train of about three yards in length to the gown waist, which is put into a ribbon upon the left side, the Queen only having her train borne. Ruffle cuffs for married ladies, a very dress cap with long lace lappets, two white plumes and a blond-lace handkerchief. This is my rigging. I should have mentioned two pearl pins in my hair, earrings and necklace of the same kind.
"Well, methinks I hear Betsy and Lucy say, 'What is cousin's dress?' White, my dear girls, like your aunt's, only differently trimmed and ornamented, her train being wholly of white crape and trimmed with white ribbon; the petticoat, which is the most showy part of the dress, covered and drawn up in what are called festoons, with light wreaths of beautiful flowers; the sleeves white crape, drawn over the silk with a row of lace around the sleeve near the shoulder, another half-way down the arm, and a third upon the top of the ruffle, a little flower stuck between; a kind of hat cap with three large feathers and a bunch of flowers; a wreath of flowers upon the hair. Thus equipped we go in our own carriage, and Mr. Adams and Colonel Smith in his. But I must quit the pen in order for the ceremony which begins at 2 o'clock."
Mrs. Adams was not one whit "flustered" or nervous on this occasion—unique from the circumstances attending it. The embarrassment was all on the part of Royalty. Very sustaining must be the consciousness of belonging to the victorious party!