A Few Friends, by Korman Lynn, was serialized in nine parts in Godey's Lady's Book during the year 1864. The serial doesn't have a lot of plot; it describes eight evenings of a group of friends gathering together to, for the most part, play parlor games. It's great for anyone who wants to research mid-nineteenth century parlor games, which are described in elaborate detail, but the only section of any real interest to me is the final one, in which the friends gather for a fancy dress party.
To pick up the story at this point, it is only necessary to know that the kind and generous Ben Stykes has been quietly pursuing the lively Mary Gliddon from the beginning of the story, though a certain Mr. Hedges, a young man from Liverpool, is also interested in her.
Even a single part of the story is too long for me to transcribe here, but I'll quote the costume descriptions, some of which are detailed and unusual, and the resolution of the romance.
Of note: this is billed as a fancy dress party, not a masquerade, but the line was blurred: the guests were "Shielded by mask and domino". The hostess, Mrs. Green, "alone appeared with countenance uncovered; yet all had to look twice before they could persuade themselves that their graceful hostess and 'that stout landlady with the gorgeous cap and the bobbing courtesy' were the same."
Ben Stykes was particularly well-disguised:
There was an old gentleman, also, among the guests, who scorned to degrade his gray hairs and time-worn cheek With the absurdity of plumed cap or domino. Wrinkled, and yet not wrinkled; decrepit, and yet graceful; drawn at the mouth, yet laughing in the eye, it was well the dear old gentleman did not venture to speak without two thimbles in his mouth, or some of the company might have recognized the voice of the gallant young Stykes. Few knew that his beautiful top-boots were constructed of his Sunday best, with a band of yellow paper neatly pasted around their tops; that his wrinkles were charcoal, and his dilapidated teeth eked into deformity by bits of black paper skilfully Spaulding-ed upon his immaculate ivories. Why should they know? It was none of their business. Why should they know, either, that a fair hand had converted his oldest black vest into a costly brocade by simply transferring the flowers from a gaudy bit of ribbon to its surface? And why should they suspect that his cast-away soft hat had been converted into a " lovely three-cornered affair" by that same useful member?
Mary Gliddon, on the other hand, was dressed as Ophelia:
Mary Gliddon, with her long flaxen wig and whitened eyebrows (though the lashes contradicted them), made a very pretty Ophelia. Straws and a white dress are always accessible, and flowers were not difficult to find in Mary's home ; indeed, some of Ben's bouquets had helped to eke out her store.
and accompanied by "a long-cloaked, black-plumed Hamlet" whom she believed to be Ben Stykes, and who, to her dismay. abandoned her early in the ball. The description of Ophelia's costume with its "straws" is reminiscent of the Ophelia costume from the 1865 West Point Ball.
Some of the other costumes included a very typical fancy dress outfit, "The Press":
Her dress was of newspapers, and very pretty it was, too, with infant waist and short sleeves, gathered into graceful shape. The skirt, too, formed of Commercial Advertisers, lined with white muslin, hung beautifully, as the ladies say, while the soft gray hue of the whole proved to be exceedingly becoming. Of course, there was a newspaper fan and a newspaper handkerchief, to say nothing of exquisite bracelets wrought of twisted fragments of the Evening Gazette. The sceptre in her hand, too, and the headdress of pens, and miniature scissors, and gay pen-wipers, were suggestive, and added much to the general effect...
Presaging the "collecting for UNICEF" boxes that I remember from my childhood Halloweens was the "Spirit of the Sanitary Commission":
All about the hem of her flowing garment there waved a line of gold, and not until one marked it closely was it plain that the golden line was but a list of the cities whose noble fairs had enabled her to be a blessed spirit indeed. Over the graceful sash of red, white, and blue that crossed her fair shoulder hung a canteen and a knapsack packed with lint, cordials, and comforts for the wounded soldier, while the blue, star-spangled diadem above her brow lent a brightness to the beautiful eyes beneath. With one fair hand she clasped a willow branch twined with laurel, and with the other she held a basket, on the sides of which the words "for the wounded" were woven in immortelles.
Keep in mind that A Few Friends was published during the last full year of the Civil War.
The lady collected donations from, among others, "...a fierce-looking brigand, and a Chinaman, and Sir John Falstaff". A "Yankee" failed to have any coin to offer. There was also "the usual sprinkling of Scotch lassies, flower-girls, and Italian peasants" in the room.
A giantess costume took things a step beyond cross-dressing:
In the middle of the evening a huge giantess entered the room, and stalked boldly about. She towered far above the tallest man present, carried a huge green work-bag, and wore a red shawl and the most outlandish of poke bonnets. People stared, and well they might, for how could they guess that this mammoth specimen was composed of two young men, the smaller and lighter one firmly seated upon the shoulders of his perspiring companion.
And a monkey costume was amusing:
A monkey scampered about near the giantess, apparently much to her annoyance and terror. This animated little biped I am sure was Bobby. A tight-fitting red jacket, with short, full skirt, from which protruded a long, gracefully wired tail, limbs covered with brown worsted legging, brown paint, and a jaunty little red skullcap completed the effect; Bobby was for the time being a veritable monkey, and delighted in doing, "in character," all sorts of mischievous things.
Some others:
..."Aurora," a fair young girl dressed, sans crinoline, in pink silk, covered with a fleecy, cloud-like drapery of tarletane, with golden tresses, shaded by a long floating veil, caught over the brow by a single blazing star.
"Music"...His jacket was a drum, his hat an inverted trumpet, his pantaloons composed of sheet music, his coat sleeves ditto, ingeniously tapered off into drumsticks, his epaulettes were miniature keyboards, his earrings bona fide jewsharps, and in lieu of a sword a fine flute swung gallantly from his belt. Strapped across his back was a metronome quiver filled with violin bows, and his breath faintly came and went through the chambers of a pandean pipe.
"Nancy" in Oliver Twist. This was well sustained by a fat lady with small, jetty eyes. In fact, the only thing she did which was entirely out of keeping with her part was to cast fearful and warning glances at an uncomfortable-looking brigand, who seemed to be slightly rheumatic in the knees. Nancy's dress was admitted by all the ladies to be "capital." A short gown and petticoat, wide apron, showy cotton shawl folded carelessly over her bosom, heavy shoes, a defunct bonnet trimmed with nameless ribbons, a big house key in her hand, and an empty basket hanging upon her arm.
While everyone was enjoying themselves, Hamlet reappeared next to Ophelia with an ill-timed marriage proposal:
...suddenly she saw that Hebenon-haunted young man moving slowly and surely toward her. He was disguised, like herself, in black silk mask and domino; still she could see that he was suffering under extreme trepidation. Gradually drawing closer to the astonished maiden, he addressed her in an agitated whisper.
"Miss Gliddon — for I know you are no other — the time has come for me to speak. I love you passionately; I will devote my very life to your happiness. You know me, of course."
Well, she thought she did...
"I knew you would. What veil can hide kindred spirits from each other? Answer me, dearest. Can you love me? Ah! you are silent! At least, if you cannot speak, place your hand in mine."
"This is no time — no place," faltered Mary, shrinking back in surprise.
"Nay, but it is," whispered the husky voice. "This very night, if you love me not, I embark for a foreign land. I can bear suspense no longer. Your hand in mine, if you love me !"
Startled, yet quivering with a strange joy, Mary timidly placed her hand within the eager palm extended toward her.
"Heaven bless you !" sobbed the lover.
Just at that moment, supper was announced, and the guests assembled to unmask. And much to Mary's surprise,
Horror! It was not Ben at all; it was the gentleman from Liverpool! What could she do?
She fainted. Ben Stykes, of course, stepped forward to help:
For the last half hour the fine old gentleman in yellow top boots had been watching the movements of Ophelia and this second Hamlet in an agony of jealous interest. Now he sprang forward and assisted the young man from Liverpool in bearing the maiden out of the room. Mrs. Gliddon and the captain, too, were soon beside her inanimate form, lending every assistance in their power. Soon her eyes opened, and she beheld the pale visage of the young man from Liverpool fairly glaring into her own.
It was quickly understood that she had not known who he was and had no intention of marrying him; he left the party in a state of high dudgeon. But there was a happy ending for Mary and Ben:
Just one week from that night, Benjamin Stykes entered the parlor where Mary sat alone, quite resolved upon playing with her a certain game called "Yes and No;" not that played by the Few Friends at their fourth meeting, but the old-fashioned, beautiful version which has been so popular among Adam's children since the days of Eden. The room was dimly lighted, and Mary spoke faintly, but a little bird told me that her answer to his first question, after the game had been fairly commenced, was "Yes."
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Sadly, there were no dance descriptions in the story, as the event was more "party" than "ball", but the costume descriptions made it well worth my time to read.
The full text of this part of A Few Friends may be read in the December, 1864, issue of Godey's, here or here. The other 1864 issues are online here as well, if anyone wants to pick through them to read the rest of the story.
Be warned that the story is of its time, and the "Fancy Dress Party" section contains at least one offhand racial slur (not the worst one) early on.
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