One of my ongoing projects is looking at mentions of dance in nineteenth-century books and periodicals in order to get an idea of what people other than dancing masters thought and wrote about dancing. "Kate Crosby's Polka Party" appeared in The Anglo American, a Journal of Literature, News, Politics, the Drama, Fine Arts, Etc.,Vol. 3, No. 26, published in New York on October 19th, 1844, at the height of the first burst of polka's popularity.
Let me state first that this story does not describe an actual polka party. This is a fictional morality tale using a hot dance trend as to draw attention. Nonetheless, there is very interesting information within about both the polka's popularity in the fall of 1844 and the practicalities of putting on a small working-class ball, which would have to be realistic enough to be unremarkable to the journal's readers.
The fictional Kate Crosby was an embroideress who lived in London with her elderly mother. She was attractive and a bit flirtatious but, we are quickly reassured, a virtuous young woman already engaged to a well-to-do tradesman's son, Edward, with whom she was saving toward a shop of their own.
One night, she had a group of friends over for a work (sewing) party, and the topic of the polka arose, providing an amusing window into its universal popularity:
"Every one is mad about this polka," said a fat girl, whom we shall call Sophy. "Those who can dance it, are giving polka parties; those who can't are giving I don't know how much a lesson to learn it."
"Yes," rejoined a little artificial-flower maker, "I was invited to a ball at the house of an ivory turner the other night, and they did nothing but dance it all the evening -- no quadrilles, no waltzes, no anything, except this eternal polka."
"I wish the polka was far enough off," observed another of our friends, "for there is a girl, who has the room over me, who is always dancing it -- morning, noon, and night -- thump, thump, thump, over my head -- she is always at it!"
"Every one is mad, that's certain," said Kate. "There is scarcely a house to which I take home work from Regent Street, in which they have not just had, or are not just going to have, a polka party; even the butcher round the corner admires it, and the milkman who supplies us told me only this morning that he was learning it, but that it was 'werry 'ard.'
The young women hatch the idea of holding a polka party of their own. They don't have much money, but they decide to take up a small collection among themselves and see what they can do. They plan to hold the ball at Kate's house:
"First of all, I know my mother will let us have the use of the whole house if we want it, so we will turn all the furniture out of this room, and put it into my bedroom; we shall then have plenty of space for dancing. Then there is the little back room, which will do for a cloak-room, and for the ladies to change their shoes in; and the supper may be ladi out in the parlour -- for you know we must have a supper."
Around twenty-six young ladies ("milliners, flower-makers, embroideresses, bonnet-makers, lace-makers, and what not") collect about three pounds sterling. They proceed to send out invitations, carefully worded to encourage the on-time arrival of the male guests:
"Miss Crosby hopes for the honour of Mr. -----'s company to a dance on the evening of next Wednesday" -- with a "P.S.: Those who do not arrive before 9 o'clock, will not be allowed to dance the polka;" Kate observing that this would be the only way to make the gentlemen punctual.
Kate decides to chip in another pound of her own and "make [her] old brown dress last a little longer" because
...we must have a good light in the passage, on the stairs, and in the dancing room; for unless a ball is well lighted, it is never gay. Then I must have something substantial for the gentlemen -- a fowl, a ham, a lobster, some meat pies, salad, &c.; some sweets for the ladies -- some cakes, trifle, &c.; and then the wine, the coffee...
I am amused by the gendered eating habits! We're actually given the budget for the ball in pounds/shillings/pence:
£ s d
0 7 0 Hire of two chandeliers for the dancing room, lamps, oil, &c.
0 3 6 Candles, best composition, at 1s. 2d. a pound. 3 lb.
0 12 0 Wine, for negus, best Marsala, at 24s., half-dozen
0 6 0 Lobsters, three at 2s, a-piece
0 5 0 Ham
1 1 2 Confectionary
0 4 6 Lemons, nutmegs, sugar, &c.
0 6 0 Musicians, fiddle and flageolet
0 4 0 Extras, for bread, cheese, &c.
This is frighteningly reminiscent of my own ball budgets, though it's interesting to look at the relative prices of, say, musicians and food, and their idea of a proper ball menu (lobster!) and what instruments make up an acceptable duo. Presumably Kate and her mother do not own a pianoforte.
Kate's first task is to hire the fiddler:
...in order to insure a musician, she tripped off towards Somers Town, to find out a fiddler who had been recommended to her, and who for six shillings a-night attended with his violin, and furnished a flageolet player and all.
And here's where you can tell that this is all fictional:
"I was looking for Mr. Quaver, a musician who plays the violin at dances..."
A quaver is British musical terminology for what in America is called an eighth note. It's the same kind of signal that a tale is fictional as naming a dancing master "Signior Squeak".
The advertised flageolet player is Mr. Quaver's eight-year-old son, which doesn't seem to strike Kate as odd. But there is a problem: poor Mr. Quaver is deathly ill from overwork and unable to play. His family is facing eviction, in fact.
This is where we go off into morality-tale-land. Kate is so stricken by the plight of the Quavers that she goes home, fetches all £4, and gives it to them to stave off their eviction. In the midst of this bit of generosity, she is touchingly certain that her friends won't have any problem dancing to the light of a single candle, without food or music.
Needless to say, on the night of the ball, the guests are quite unhappy with Kate, who is busily pretending that the lights, music, and food are just running a bit late. The ladies get "very cross", and are further annoyed by the gentlemen "laughing in an under-tone and in a most provoking manner."
Kate does eventually confess, and things are about to get ugly, when, miraculously, her fiancé (remember him?) claps his hands and
"...a procession entered, composed of men and boys, bearing chandeliers, ready for lighting; trays full of viands, ready for eating; bottles, containing wine and other liquids, ready for drinking, and, to crown all, two fiddlers, a fifer, and a cornet-a-pistons player; in short, lights, supper, and music..."
It's always nice to have a well-to-do fiancé to save the day, though speaking as a ball organizer I would have much preferred advance reassurances to staging a dramatic moment.
Edward apparently upgrades things significantly, as evidenced by the band going from two to four musicians and featuring both wind and brass. (A cornet à pistons is a sort of complex trumpet.) And, men being men, priorities are rearranged:
"Ladies, I vote we commence with supper, and dance afterwards. (This proposal was received with great applause.)
The evening is a grand success:
Need we further add, that the supper was eaten, the polka danced, and a happier evening never spent, and that to this very day a favourite topic of conversation amongst the favored guests on that happy evening is Kate Crosby's Polka Party?
Lacking a well-to-do backer, I wouldn't exactly call that a realistic way to plan a ball, but this is fiction, so presumably everyone lives happily and virtuously ever after, and twenty-first-century dance researchers can mine the tale for historical detail!
Thank you for your article on this story. I came across the story in the Anglo American while researching my family genealogy - my ancestor was a musician living in Somers Town, probably very poor, and he died of tuberculosis 8 years prior to the story being written. So the story pulled my heart strings a bit, particularly with the depiction of the sad scene in the cellar of Somers town, one of the poorest areas in London at the time.
Posted by: Craig | September 25, 2020 at 09:22 AM