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 brave 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 rôle 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.
Then 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!
CHAPTER X
Exodus of Southern Society from the Federal City
In the winter of ’9 and ’0 it became obvious to everyone that gaiety at the capital was waning. Aside from public receptions, now become palpably perfunctory, only an occasional wedding served to give social zest to the rapidly sobering Congressional circles. Ordinary “at-homes” were slighted. Women went daily to the Senate gallery to listen to the angry debates on the floor below. When belles met they no longer discussed furbelows and flounces, but talked of forts and fusillades. The weddings of my cousin, Miss Hilliard, in 1859, and of Miss Parker, in 1860, already described, were the most notable matrimonial events of those closing days of Washington’s splendour.
To Miss Hilliard’s marriage to Mr. Hamilton Glentworth, of New York, which occurred at mid-day at old St. John’s, and to the reception that followed, came many of the Senatorial body and dignitaries of the capital. A procession of carriages drawn by white horses accompanied the bridal party to the church, where the celebrated Bishop Doane, of New Jersey, performed the ceremony. The bride’s gown and that of one of the bridesmaids were “gophered,” this being the first appearance of the new French style of trimming in the capital. One of the bridesmaids, I remember, was gowned in pink crêpe, which was looped back with coral, then a most fashionable garniture; the costume of another was of embroidered tulle caught up with bunches of grapes; and each of the accompanying ushers—such were the fashions of the day—wore inner vests of satin, embroidered in colour to match the gown of the bridesmaid allotted to his charge.
Notable artists appeared in the capital, among them Charlotte Cushman, and there were stately, not to say stiff and formal, dinners at the British Embassy, now presided over by Lord Lyons. This Minister’s arrival was looked upon as a great event. Much gossip had preceded it, and all the world was agog to know if it were true that feminine-kind was debarred from his menage. It was said that his personally chartered vessel had conveyed to our shores not only the personages comprising his household, but also his domestics and skilful gardeners, and even the growing plants for his conservatory. It was whispered that when his Lordship entertained ladies his dinner-service was to be of solid gold; that when gentlemen were his guests they were to dine from the costliest of silver plate. Moreover, the gossips at once set about predicting that the new-comer would capitulate to the charms of some American woman, and speculation was already rife as to who would be the probable bride.
Lord Lyons began his American career by entertaining at dinner the Diplomatic Corps, and afterward the officials of our country, in the established order of precedence, the Supreme Court, the Cabinet, and Senate circles leading, according to custom. His Lordship’s invitations being sent out alphabetically, Senator Clay and I received a foreign and formidable card to the first Senatorial dinner given by the newly arrived diplomat. My husband’s appearance at this function, I remember, was particularly distinguished. He was clad in conventional black, and wore with it a cream-coloured vest of brocaded velvet; yet, notwithstanding my wifely pride in him, we had what almost amounted to a disagreement on our way to the famous feast. We drove to Lord Lyons’s domicile with Senator and Mrs. Crittenden, and my perturbation furnished them with much amusement. For some reason or for lack of one I was obsessed by a suspicion that the new Minister, probably being unaware of the state of feeling which continually manifested itself between Northern and Southern people in the capital, might assign to me, as my escort to table, some pronounced Republican.