There were fewer detailed descriptions of masquerades and fancy dress balls published in the first few decades of the nineteenth century than there were during Victoria's long reign, when such balls became enormously popular. But the fancy dress ball held in the York (England) Assembly Rooms on Tuesday, March 23rd, 1824, was given a substantial writeup the following Saturday, March 27th, in The Yorkshire Gazette. Most of the coverage was reprinted exactly on Thursday, April 1st, in The Leeds Intelligencer and Yorkshire General Advertiser. All excerpts below were transcribed from the article in The Yorkshire Gazette.
As, apparently, the first public fancy dress ball ever held in York, the preliminaries and the efforts of the ball's nervous organizing committee were described in unusual detail, along with much back-patting about the success of the event.
This novel and anxiously expected entertainment, was held on Tuesday evening in our magnificent Assembly Rooms and was attended by upwards of five hundred persons. It being the first public Fancy Ball that had ever taken place in this county, the Committee felt no little anxiety respecting the ultimate success of their undertaking, and exerted themselves to the utmost, in making all the fit and proper arrangements for the fairy scenes of the evening — the expectation that had been held out, did not fall short of the reality, and we are most happy to have it in our power to state, that, on no former occasion, as a more splendid, brilliant, and amusing assemblage been collected; there was a freshness and gaiety of appearance which delighted all, and the grotesqueness of the scene was irresistible.
As soon as the day was finally fixed, all had flown to their port-folios and collections of prints for some pleasing and tasteful costume; the moving army of milliners, dress-makers, tailors, and frizzers were forthwith embodied, and the Cookes, the Gladhills, the Morgans, the Wakes, the Mallatrats, the Stricklands, the Johnsons, the Parsons, the Hands, and the Youngs, will long remember the grateful toils, in which they have been of late so successfully employed.
I suspect these are the names of actual people in the dress trade in York in the 1820s; it would be fascinating to try to track them all down.
Due to conflicts at the venue, the Committee wasn't able to decorate to its satisfaction, but they seem to have done well enough with flowers, evergreens, and the "Chinese devices" used for the customary chalk decorations on the floor.
In consequence of the High Sheriff’s ball on Monday, the Committee were unable to decorate the room the extent they had intended — but they had done every thing which the shortness of time would permit.
The vestibule was tastefully decorated with evergreens and beautiful exotics; and a crimson canopy was erected for the company to pass under — The floor of the Great Assembly Rooms was handsomely chalked for the occasion with Chinese devices;
Two bands were engaged, one of which played for the actual dancing, the other of which played between dances and during supper. This was standard practice later in the nineteenth century, so it's nice to see it documented in detail this early. The second band was a military band, which looked particularly good with their uniforms and helmets peeping through and over the foliage decorating the second, temporary, orchestra (meaning "place for the band") erected for them:
at the upper end a temporary orchestra was erected for the band of the Royals, the front of which was formed of laurel, and other evergreens, intertwined with flowers; and their showy uniform seen thro’ the interstices, together with their burnished helmets, towering above the whole, had a most picturesque appearance. This band played airs between the dances, and during supper. Hardman’s quadrille band was stationed in the orchestra, the front of which was ornamented with flowers; and the pillars were intwined with wreaths of laurel. The room presented a blaze of light; and had a very brilliant appearance.
The guests, of course, were fashionably late:
A few of the company began to drop in about nine o’clock; the greater part of them however, did not arrive till between ten and eleven, and some came much later.
By the time everyone arrived, the room was packed, but those who arrived earlier got to see it to better effect. The incongruity of the costumes gathered together was everything one would expect.
To those who entered when the room was tolerably filled, the effect was most brilliant and imposing: —
“For the scene like enchantment, burst on the night,
And wrapt them in wonder and speechless delight.”
The room was crowded to excess; and the amusing scene which presented itself from the intermixture of the various costume the dresses exhibited, may be imagined partly, but can only be wholly appreciated by those who were present. The inhabitants of the four corners of the earth seemed to have met together, for the sole purpose of amusing, and being amused.
...A Lord of the 17th with a Lady of the 19th century, a Turk with a Highlander, a British officer in splendid uniform with a Swiss or Savoyard Peasant, and various other similar associations, continually occurred.
The schedule was typical of the early nineteenth century: dancing starting at half past ten, supper at two, ball ending at six. That's around six hours of dancing, divided roughly in half by supper. The dancing itself was, quite predictably for the mid-1820s, a mixture of quadrilles and waltzes. Not even a token country dance was reported.
Dancing commenced about half past ten o’clock, quadrilles and waltzes being danced alternately. The appearance of the groupes [sic] engaged in the graceful quadrille, or lively waltz, was sometimes highly grotesque
Refreshments were served throughout. At supper itself, despite using two rooms, there were only enough tables for half the company. Nonetheless, "hilarity" prevailed throughout.
...At two o’clock, supper was announced, refreshments of every kind having previously been served in an adjoining room. The supper tables were laid out in the small Assembly-room, and in the card room, tables being arranged around each, which, however, would hold only half the company at a time. The supper and the arrangements confer great credit upon Mrs. Barber, under whose arrangement they were conducted; and much hilarity prevailed at the table, as well as in the ball-room.
After supper, dancing was resumed, and a Quadrille party, in which the ladies were all dressed in the costumes of the last century, was highly applauded. The festive gaiety was kept up with great spirit until six o’clock, when the company retired, highly gratified with the evening’s amusement, which certainly never was exceeded in York for attraction and splendour.
A "Quadrille party", in this context, is an organized quadrille set wearing matching costumes. I've read descriptions of other balls on this general era that described hundreds or thousands of guests and noted that very few of them actually danced, so this may have been a performance by a single set. Notice that it says that the ladies were all dressed in the costume of the previous century. I don't know whether that means that the gentlemen were in modern (1824) dress or whether the quadrille was danced entirely by ladies. Either is a possible option for this period.
Some people had to improvise their costumes at the last minute, as they had left their planning until the last minute and their costumes never showed up. Wearing ordinary clothes got one gentleman mistaken for a servant.
We regret to state, many gentlemen were disappointed from attending in their wished-for splendour, by the non-arrival of their expected costumes from London. Many, after waiting until the last moment, were at last obliged to appear at the ball in their ordinary clothes. This gave rise to several ludicrous mistakes. One of these gentlemen was ordered to change a plate, by a fair and attractive Swiss peasant girl, who mistook him for one of the attendants. A noble Falstaff had to assume a Windsor uniform. An intended Dutchwoman of Groningen was only a simple flower girl. The representative of the Duke de Sully was in the uniform of a well known hunt: and the aspirant to the throne of Ferdinand VII. became a rat-catcher, who did not in our opinion, in this age of ratting, succeed so well in his novel avocation as he had expected; he probably had taken the part at too short a notice.
A Windsor uniform, shown on the Duke of Sussex (brother of the Prince Regent, who by 1824 was King George IV) in the 1798 portrait by Guy Head at left (click to enlarge), consisted of a dark blue jacket with red facings. It was created by George III in 1777 and was (and is) worn by members of the Royal family and some officers of the Royal household, though I am not sure what the precise limits on that practice were in 1824. The modern version may be seen here.
A list of over a hundred attendees with their specific costumes was included (this was a staple of the reporting of fancy dress balls and masquerade throughout the nineteenth century) plus hundreds more names simply listed without costumes. Most of the outfits can be classified as historical or national costumes -- Spaniards, Highlanders, and Turks were particularly popular -- with the expected smattering of shepherdesses, flower girls, Hamlets, well-dressed peasants, etc. Quite a few gentlemen wore military uniforms. At least ten gentlemen were listed as having worn the Windsor uniform, and over a dozen as being in "full Court dress". A number of ladies were simply in "fancy dresses".
A few of the more unusual or specially noted costumes:
Miss E. Powell, as an Archeress, white dress, trimmed with green and silver, bows and arrows.
Miss Duffin & Miss Fothergill, as virgins of the sun.
Miss Stapylton was in a complete Bernoise costume, wearing the peculiar cap of that canton, her hat hanging on her arm--this dress was extremely admired for its correctness.
Miss Acklom, as a Rosiere of Salancy [sic], was dressed in a white gauze frock and apron, with a chaplet of blush roses and little chip hat, -- a scarf of blue silk was over her dress, and ornamented with bunches of white roses.
The "Rosiere of Salancy" was probably inspired by the 18th century comedy, which was in turn inspired by a festival celebrating the virtue of young women in the French village of Salency; a lovely picture of the traditional crown of roses is here, along with some discussion (in French) of a recent controversy over an attempt to revive it.
The author was not above a bit of wit:
Miss Stricklands as Shepherdesses, whose sheep we more than once observed went astray.
I think that is meant to be "The Misses Strickland", unless Miss Strickland (Stricklands?) managed to costume herself as several shepherdesses at once.
There were group costumes, including one that sounds like it consisted of women who just pulled some clothes out of the family attics:
Miss Agars, Miss Hale, Miss Fanny Hale, Miss H. Crompton, and Miss M. Crompton, as their own great grand-mothers.
Mrs. Milne, Miss L. Belcombe, and Miss E. Belcombe, as the Merry Wives of Windsor, and Anne Page.
The men made a less interesting list, though the variety of uniforms was impressive. A few stood out:
Mr. H. Grimstone supported the character of Sir Charles Grandison, to the admiration of the whole room.
I believe this means that he acted the part throughout, rather than just wearing the costume. The character is from a novel.
The rare man who rated a compliment beyond just the name of the costume:
Mr. Edward Cayley, as Sir Walter Raleigh, with so beautiful a mantle that a Queen would scarcely have ventured to press it with her royal foot.
This is the one I most wish there were a surviving sketch or etching of:
Mr. Waterton, as Montezuma, a South American Prince. His dress was composed of feathers and ornaments obtained during his travels in America.
And, finally, there was the political costume:
Mr. R. Denison, jun., a Maniote Chieftain, highly characteristic. He gave us a good idea of those valorous Greeks now resisting Turkish tyranny.
After the length of two columns' worth of names, I shared both the presumed exhaustion of the readers and the hope of the writer for a repetition of the event, preferably with similarly detailed coverage:
But we have done, for we think our readers must be tired. We only trust, that the success of the evening’s amusement will induce a repetition of this species of entertainment.
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