Part 7 (1/2)

In the year 1752 a new delight was opened to the provincials. Hallam's company of comedians came over in _The Charming Sally_ to act for them. A playbill of that year announces that ”at the new theatre in Annapolis by the company of comedians, on Monday next, being the sixth of this instant July, will be performed _The Busy Body_, likewise a farce called _The Lying Valet_. To begin precisely at 7 o'clock. Tickets to be had at the printing-office. No persons to be admitted behind the scenes. Box seats 10s., pit 7s. 6d, gallery 5s.” A later bill announces that ”children in laps will not be admitted.”

The favorite plays given by Hallam's Company seem to have been--

”The Suspicious Husband,” ”Oth.e.l.lo,” ”The Mock Doctor,” ”Romeo and Juliet,” ”The Devil To Pay,” ”A Bold Stroke for a Wife,” and ”Miss In Her Teens; or, A Medley of Lovers.”

Our squeamish age would find much to shock, and perhaps little to amuse, in many of those old plays. Congreve's shameless muse set the pace, and the Nell Gwynns of the stage kept it. If we wonder that our ancestors could listen and look, will not our descendants wonder equally at us?

Before Hallam and his company came over to set up a professional standard, amateur theatricals were the rage. The Virginia _Gazette_ in 1736 announces a performance of ”_The Beaux' Stratagem_ by the gentlemen and ladies of this county,” and also that the students of the college are to give _The Tragedy of Cato_ at the theatre. Somehow, Addison's tragedies seem further removed from our sympathies than Congreve's comedies, and we turn with relief to a form of amus.e.m.e.nt always in fas.h.i.+on and forever modern, the time-honored entertainment of feasting.

In 1744, a grand dinner was given by Governor Gooch to visiting statesmen at Annapolis. William Black, who was present, records in his journal that ”Punch was served before dinner, which was sumptuous, with wines in great abundance, followed by strawberries and ice-cream, a great rarity.” These public banquets were momentous affairs, demanding a sound digestion and a steady head in those guests who wished to live to dine another day.

Chastellux gives a vivid account of their customs. ”The dinner,” he writes, ”is served in the American or, if you will, in the English fas.h.i.+on, consisting of two courses, one comprehending the entrees, the roast meat and the warm side-dishes; the other, the sweet pastry and confectionery. When this is removed, the cloth is taken off, and apples, nuts, and chestnuts are served. It is then that healths are drunk.” This custom of drinking healths, he finds pleasant enough, inasmuch as it serves to stimulate and prolong conversation. But he says, ”I find it an absurd and truly barbarous practice, the first time you drink, and at the beginning of the dinner, to call out successively to each individual, to let him know you drink his health. The actor in this ridiculous comedy is sometimes ready to die with thirst, whilst he is obliged to inquire the names, or catch the eyes, of twenty-five or thirty persons.”

The woes of the diner and winer do not, it seems, end with this general call, for he is constantly called, and having his sleeve pulled, to attract his attention, now this way, now that. ”These general and partial attacks end in downright duels. They call to you from one end of the table to the other: 'Sir, will you permit me to drink a gla.s.s of wine with you?'”

Allowing for some exaggeration on the part of the lively Frenchman, it is easy to see what quant.i.ties of Madeira and ”Phyall” must have been drunk in those tournaments of courtesy, and I do not wonder to read in the journal of a young woman of the eighteenth century: ”The gentlemen are returned from dinner. Both tipsy!”

”The Tuesday Club,” of Maryland, had many a jovial supper together. Their toasts always began with ”The Ladies,” followed by ”The King's Majesty,”

and after that ”The Deluge.” I find a suggestive regulation made by this club, that each member should bring his own sand-box, ”to save the carpet.”

Parson Bacon sanctified these convivial meetings by his presence and was, by all accounts, the ringleader of the boisterous revels. Jonathan Boucher, another clergyman, but of a very different type, was a great clubman too. He was one of the leading spirits of ”The Hommony Club,”

whose avowed object was ”to promote innocent mirth and ingenious humor.”

The days of women's clubs were still in the far future, and the chief excitement of the ladies was an occasional ball. The Maryland a.s.semblies began at six o'clock in the evening, and were supposed to end at ten, though the young folks often coaxed and cajoled the authorities into later hours. Card parties were part of the entertainment, and whist was enlivened by playing for money. The supper was often furnished from the ladies' kitchens and the gentlemen's gamebags, and was a tempting one. The costumes were rich and imposing. A witness of one of these Maryland b.a.l.l.s writes: ”The gentlemen, dressed in short breeches, wore handsome knee-buckles, silk stockings, buckled pumps, etc. The ladies wore--G.o.d knows what; I don't!”

Dancing and music were the chief branches of the eighteenth-century maiden's education. I can fancy, as I read that ”Patsy Custis and Milly Posey are gone to Colonel Mason's to the dancing-school,” how they held up their full petticoats, and pointed out the toes of their red-heeled shoes, and dreamed of future conquests, although for one of them the tomb was already preparing its chill embrace.

For women, life in town was pleasant enough with its tea-drinkings, its afternoon visits, and its evening a.s.semblies, but on the plantations far from neighbors time must often have hung heavy on their hands. Yet even there, pleasures could be found, or made. When evening shut down over the lonely manor-houses along the Chesapeake, the myrtleberry candles were lighted, the slender-legged mahogany tables drawn out, and the Colonial dames seated themselves to an evening of cards. Small stakes were played for to heighten the interest of ”Triumph, Ruff and Honors,” ”Gleke,” or ”Quadrille;” and when these lost their charm, there was the spinet to turn to.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Spinet.]

In those primitive days people still loved melody. ”A little music” was called for with enthusiasm, and given without hesitation. There was no scientific criticism to be feared when the young men and maidens ”raised a tune.” Their list of songs was not long; but familiarity lent a deeper charm than novelty. ”Gaze not on Swans” was a favorite in the seventeenth century. ”Push about the Brisk Bowl,” while well enough at the hunt supper table, was banished from the drawing-room in favor of ”Beauty, Retire!” a song beginning--

”Beauty, retire! thou dost my pitty move; Believe my pitty and then trust my love.”

The writer does not make it quite clear why he wishes Beauty to retire, nor why she moves his pity. In fact, the case seems quite reversed in the last stanza:

”With niew and painfulle arts Of studied warr I breake the hearts Of half the world; and shee breakes mine; And shee, and shee, and _shee_ breakes mine!”

Through the lapse of more than one century, we hear the echo of those young voices, rising and falling in the air and counter of the quaint old melodies.

Oh, those shadowy corners of candle-lighted rooms, those spinets, those duos and trios, those ruffled squires and brocaded dames!--where are they now?

His Man-Servants and His Maid-Servants