Louisa May Alcott is one of those authors I enjoyed much more as a child, when the more treacly moralizing elements of her most popular books flew right over my head. As an adult, I find it harder to tolerate, an opinion that Alcott evidently shared. So I'd only ever revisited one of them -- Little Women, of course -- for its dance references. But I was nonetheless quite intrigued to read last month that a newly-discovered early story fragment by Alcott, dated 1849, when she was only seventeen, and containing a masquerade ball scene, would be published in the next issue of Strand Magazine, dated February-May 2020 but being released, no doubt for pandemic-related reasons, in late June. I promptly ordered a copy, which finally turned up in the mail this week.
As noted, Aunt Nellie's Diary is only a fragment, around nine thousand words, and ending, literally, in mid-sentence: "I begged and prayed she would..." The story is set up fully, however, and the general direction is clear: the orphaned Annie and her friend Isabel come to stay with Annie's Aunt Nellie, along with the handsome Edward, who is recovering from illness. Annie is gentle and innocent; Isabel is both colder and more flirtatious. Edward is too good to be true. Isabel is interested in Edward, but he is clearly smitten by Annie. It seems obvious that they would have ended up together, while Isabel likely would have repented of her less-than-perfect ways and wound up with the fiancé she had jilted before the story began, who reappears dramatically at the masquerade ball just before the fragment ends. This is very like far too much of the other nineteenth-century women's fiction I periodically wade through looking for dance references, though even at seventeen, Alcott is a noticeably better writer than most.
I had high hopes of the reported masquerade ball scene, but, alas, it was a dud as far as dance goes: one reference to waltzing and the information that the ball included a supper midway through, which was typical of the mid-nineteenth century. I did, however, glean a bit of information about how a family that wasn't upper-crust and wealthy might go about preparing for a masquerade ball, as well as notes on some of the specific costumes worn. I'll quote the relevant bits of the story below, with commentary.
When we reached Ferndale we found a note from good old Madame Mortimer inviting us all to a masquerade next week. Of course it threw the young people into raptures and nothing was talked of but page knights and fairies till bed time.
Note that this is a masquerade. People actually wore masks or, in the case of at least one of the young ladies, veils.
The costume assembly process started with the girls searching through trunks for old clothing that might be converted:
When I joined them the next morning after my household duties were over, they were surrounded by finery ancient and modern planning and arranging amid jests and laughter but they could fix on nothing; everything was too old and worn out and Isabel gave up in despair and Edward laughingly wrapped himself in a monk’s grey gown and sat own to meditate how he might invent some new and striking character...
Their friend Lizzie comes over and gets everything sorted:
…under her skilful [sic] hands all went well. Old trunks were looked over and garments were rummaged and by evening all was ready.
Edward and his friend Harry, however, bring in more elaborate costumes from offsite - from Edward's home, from previous masquerades, perhaps, or even from a costume shop:
Who our squires were to be was unknown but sundry large bundles had been mysteriously brought in and many private interviews between Harry and Edward during which a great clashing of swords and other warlike sound led us to believe that knights and earls might be our escort.
Aunt Nellie sounds like she has found something in the trunks from the eighteenth century:
I contented myself with a hoop train and antique cap and, much to the amusement of the young folks, got hopelessly entangled among chairs and tables while practicing my entree. I however at length succeeded and, much to my own comfort and their delight, sailed about with all the dignity, if not the grace, of an ancient dame.
But the girls choose classic characters: Night and Morning for Isabel and Annie, Titania for Lizzie. All three can be made simply by adding a few accessories to an appropriately-colored gown:
Isabel in a black robe and veil spangled with silver stars and a crescent in her dark hair made a splendid Night, a little too cold and haughty but very beautiful notwithstanding. Annie in snow white garments, pale rose-coloured veil, and wreath of dewy half blown buds was as fair a Morning as ever dawned in Ferndale. While Lizzie as Titania in gossamer robe, wand, and wings made as perfect a little fairy as ever danced by moonlight.
Edward and Harry also end up with typical choices, but ones requiring actual costumes rather than just trimmings:
The Earl of Leicester and an Italian count soon joined us and, though rather awkward in the management of sword and cloak, were perfect in their courtly manners and high-flown gallantry.
After some difficulty getting Aunt Nellie and her hoop into the carriage, they arrive to find the hostess dressed as Queen Elizabeth (also not something easily thrown together at home) and a selection of "mysteries" including "palmers' cloaks and nuns' veils".
So after much merriment occasioned by the difficulty with which I got my hoop and self into the carriage we set off, a laughing load but softly, reached our place of destination where good Madame Mortimer as Queen Bess welcomed us in a most hospitable manner and we soon found ourselves among mysteries of all sorts, finding beneath palmers’ cloaks and nuns’ veils gay young friends and neighbours.
Unlike some masquerades, the palmer and nun characters were probably meant to be taken at face value as respectable religious costumes rather than more scandalous characters featured at some eighteenth and early nineteenth century English masquerades.
And here's the only mention of a specific dance -- waltz, of course -- as well as the costumed chaperones sitting out and mention of the supper:
Night and Morning grew blushingly beautiful beneath the many eyes fixed upon them, and our fairy queen waltzed away in true elflike style, while I could scarcely keep my dignity and my feet among the merry dancers whom I had imprudently joined, forgetting that my ancient dress little suited our modern steps. I soon stole away among some quiet dames and portly old knights where I saw watching the strange figures around me, and seemed simply fairly carried back into the days of mask and tournament, till called from my corner by the announcement of supper which was served in the true English hospitable manner.
There's evidence that the attendees were masked:
As we entered the ball again Edward suddenly left us to shake warmly by the hand a stately Saint Guy who quickly removed his mask...
And a final exchange showing that Isabel was using a veil as a sort of mask:
“Who is it?” said I, turning to Isabel.
She was very pale and hastily dropped her veil saying, “I do not know. Had we not better go home?”
And...that's all. A disappointment as a dance source, to be sure. But let's talk a bit more about the costumes.
Edward as the Earl Leicester might have worn something like the illustration at left (click to enlarge), taken from Arden Holt's Gentlemen's Fancy Dress (London, 1882) and described as:
Magnificent costume of Elizabeth's reign. Doublet and trunks of satin and velvet embroidered in gold; velvet shoulder-cloak lined with satin; long silk stockings; ruff; sword-belt and sword; velvet cap with plums; shoes with jewels; jewelled garters. This may be carried out in various colourings:-- Dark blue and white, black and blue, green and gold, black and violet.
Though Annie's costume as Morning is very simple, just a white dress with flowers, Isabel's costume sounds like a version of this description of "Night" from the sixth edition of Holt's Fancy Dresses Described (London, 1896):
A long black tulle dress with pendent sleeves; spangled with silver stars and crescents, silver crescent ornaments, silver belt; a crescent on the head, and long crescent spangled veil; a silver wand, with crescent t the top; an owl on the shoulder; black fan, having moonlight scene painted on it. Black gloves, black satin shoes and crescents.
And, depending on her income level, their hostess might have worn something as elaborate as this for "Queen Bess":
Full skirt, touching ground, of richly embroidered material, often jewelled round hem, gathered to bodice at waist; worn over a hoop. The bodice is stiff, with deep pointed stomacher, low in front and embroidered with serpents, &c., or jewelled; ruff supported on wire at back, the hair frizzed; a small velvet cap and jewelled crown; the front breadth of dress embroidered or quilted with pearls, the sleeves puffed to wrist with ruffles; very pointed shoes. Velvet satin or brocade is suitable.
All this, of course, would have been worn over late 1840s underpinnings, giving a silhouette that was a bit different from that of an actual sixteenth-century costume!
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Provided you can read Alcott's handwriting, scans of the entire story in the original manuscript are available online via Harvard Library, here.
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