Here's a lively account of a jolly and slightly drunken masquerade held in Louisville, Kentucky, in 1843. This account has a little of everything: costumes, bad puns, a bit about the dances, and the effects of alcohol on the revelers. It's too long a report to comment on every bit of it, but the entire thing is transcribed at the bottom of this post.
The report starts out with a lot of philosophy about the joys of masquerades, but the first really useful bit is that as in A Few Friends, the unmasking is done at supper-time, which was probably around midnight:
The unmasking at the supper table is often a great source of laughter and surprise, when it discovers the faces of numerous acquaintances who have been playing off their wit and raillery against each other all the evening, under their various disguises.
All sorts of people attended masquerades, which is part of what made them scandalous. In Kentucky, at least, this mixing was not to be feared, though I suspect the upper classes might have differed on this point:
A masquerade is an unsorted class of society, it must be admitted; but are you not liable to mix with bad persons in the best regulated companies? Even robberies have frequently been committed in churches; and if you keep aloof from mankind on that account, you may soon become a crying philosopher, afraid to stir from your own fireside, in order to prevent contamination, and be devoured by hypochondria the remainder of your days.
The writer had a few drinks before arriving and is thus in a good mood:
It was at a late hour that I entered the room, and I was in a right good humor for fun and frolic, and the scene before me, having taken a glass or two of Walker’s rich old wines, the vivifying qualities of which would almost make the dumb to chatter.
Remember "vivifying". The extra "life" provided by alcohol recurs later.
And look, an actual mention of dancing!
Country dances were well executed by some of the characters; others portrayed their knowledge of attitudes in the elegant waltz; quadrilles were performed with great taste;
That's a reasonable mix of dances for a ball taking place just before the outbreak of polkamania.
Costumes included:
...heavy heeled harlequins in abundance; and plenty of clowns not possessing sense enough to play the fool! Sailors, ignorant of the difference between larboard and starboard, and who never had even a glimpse of the ocean. Ballad-singers, without the slightest knowledge of music, yet with pockets full of notes. Orange-girls, more civil than their oranges, and far more inviting than their fruit. Lots of “domino” heroes, courageous in their attacks upon characters, yet not possessing courage [entire line unreadable] “the veil” altogether.
Supper was a mob scene:
The rooms are thrown open for the reception of the company; but the rush of both male and female characters was so great, to obtain good seats, that is should seem almost three parts of them had been without food for a week, from the very eager and hungry mode of attack they commenced upon the dishes which were placed before them.
Then they start to have a little fun...
A strong clown began the task after the manner of a comic bit in a pantomime, by jumping on a table, and nearly upsetting one of the glass chandeliers—then sticking a fork into a fowl, which a counsellor was cutting up, bore it off in triumph, and asked the lawyer if he had cut his client. When a punster thought he had said one of his best things, by observing that it was most certainly “foul” play.
Bad puns are eternal, alas.
Things get a bit wilder:
The “Knight of Woeful Countenance” appears to be quite exhausted with his search after windmills. and is lying on the ground. The flinty Mordecai...cannot persuade the pig-faced lady to unmask “at any price.” The Jack Tar is quite pleased with his night’s cruise, and is continually singing out, “What a prime shiny, messmates!” Harlequin is “trying it on” with the lady near him to become his Columbine; and, if she will but consent to his wishes, he declares that with only a touch of his bat he can make her happiness complete.
It's the wine, of course:
The wine had been pushed about so briskly during the time of supper, that the most numerous part of the company, from its potent effects, were fast losing their diffidence and reserve, which had rendered them so dull the previous part of the evening, and were getting as lively and gay as could be wished, each contributing some how or other towards the mirth and variety of the scene.
Remember the "vivifying" effects of wine earlier? Well, now the characters "might be said to be more alive" than they were before supper...
Supper being over, the ball-room once more became thronged with characters that might be said to be more alive than heretofore; and reeling, with several of them, required no assumption to execute new steps.
I suppose that pun on "reeling" was as foreseeable as the "foul play" from earlier. Happily, it's a useful clue that although the writer didn't mention dancing any reels at the ball, he obviously had some idea what they were and that they demanded steps.
The masquerade ended at three.
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TRANSCRIPTION
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The New York Herald, January 24, 1843, p. 1.
(Original: PDF - look at the second column from the right)
Louisville, Ky.
[Correspondence of the Herald.]
LOUISVILLE, January 13, 1843.
Fashionable Movements in Kentucky — Masquerade
Balls — Gaiety and Glory — Suppers — News.
“There was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium’s capital had gathered then
Her beauty and her chivalry; and bright
The lamps shone o’er faire women and brave men;
And thousand hearts beat happily.”
“All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts.”
The grandest masquerade that has yet been given in our city, came off on the 8th ultimo, with greater splendor and eclat than any previous one. It is universally admitted by all to have eclipsed that of the Palaise d’or in every respect and particular. A masquerade is one of those luxurious moments when scarcely any thing but the passions prevail. It is also a fine picture of life. It has its attractions and its drawbacks. For my part, I have been delighted beyond measure, at the extraordinary talents I have met with at this species of amusement, as well as having been disgusted with witnessing impudence substituted for ability; but, nevertheless, the contrast is not only entertaining, but profitable, as it affords degrees of comparison towards acquiring a more intimate acquaintance with the various classes of society; it also gives an opportunity for the exhibition of talents. The searchers after fun may either find or create it— the man of wit may show it — the punster be quite “at home” — the satirist have full scope for his powers of ridicule — the dancer may sport a toe with effect and applause; and the lovers of music enjoy a treat. The serious hero can scarcely be serious at a masquerade; but then he can keep his laugh to himself, under his mask; and however strange it may appear, yet such is the fact, that the fastidious person may still remain fastidious in the motley group by which he is surrounded, under the protection of his disguise. The man of the world repairs to the masquerade in search of adventures; the modest folks, but yet curious ones, who may have felt a wish just to have it to say in company they have been at a masquerade once in their lives, yet, perhaps have reason to repent it as long as they exist. It has been said by somebody, “that a little mirth in this melancholy life is a good thing.” I have and always do intend to act upon it. The unmasking at the supper table is often a great source of laughter and surprise, when it discovers the faces of numerous acquaintances who have been playing off their wit and raillery against each other all the evening, under their various disguises. A masquerade is an unsorted class of society, it must be admitted; but are you not liable to mix with bad persons in the best regulated companies? Even robberies have frequently been committed in churches; and if you keep aloof from mankind on that account, you may soon become a crying philosopher, afraid to stir from your own fireside, in order to prevent contamination, and be devoured by hypochondria the remainder of your days.
It was at a late hour that I entered the room, and I was in a right good humor for fun and frolic, and the scene before me, having taken a glass or two of Walker’s rich old wines, the vivifying qualities of which would almost make the dumb to chatter. The hall exhibited a most extensive motley group. The illuminations were not only splendid, but profuse in all parts of the house. The bands of music, all in full sound. Indeed, it was an imposing scene altogether, however familiar the eye might be with amusements of this kind. The activity, life, fun, frolic, gaiety, mirth, and good humor, which presented itself, gave it that peculiar sort of interest which baffles description. Country dances were well executed by some of the characters; others portrayed their knowledge of attitudes in the elegant waltz; quadrilles were performed with great taste; heavy heeled harlequins in abundance; and plenty of clowns not possessing sense enough to play the fool! Sailors, ignorant of the difference between larboard and starboard, and who never had even a glimpse of the ocean. Ballad-singers, without the slightest knowledge of music, yet with pockets full of notes. Orange-girls, more civil than their oranges, and far more inviting than their fruit. Lots of “domino” heroes, courageous in their attacks upon characters, yet not possessing courage [entire line unreadable] “the veil” altogether. Yet, here and there this insipidity was relieved by a sprinkling of talent—a lively rapartee [sic]—a bonne bouche—a character aimed without a fault—elegantly attired females, witty and interesting, singing some three or four lines of some well-known air, with such delightful melody, as to leave a regret that the ear would catch no more of them; and comical fellows exerting themselves to promote mirth, continually passing and repassing each other, to render this diversified assemblage, with all its defects, nevertheless, prominent and attractive.
I will not attempt a description of the various characters present on this occasion, being fully aware of my inability to perform so arduous a task; besides, supper is announced, and we must not let it wait. The rooms are thrown open for the reception of the company; but the rush of both male and female characters was so great, to obtain good seats, that is should seem almost three parts of them had been without food for a week, from the very eager and hungry mode of attack they commenced upon the dishes which were placed before them. Perceiving that some of the company were disposed to have a little fun, I was determined not to be a jot behind-hand with any of the most lively heroes connected with the motley group. A strong clown began the task after the manner of a comic bit in a pantomime, by jumping on a table, and nearly upsetting one of the glass chandeliers—then sticking a fork into a fowl, which a counsellor was cutting up, bore it off in triumph, and asked the lawyer if he had cut his client. When a punster thought he had said one of his best things, by observing that it was most certainly “foul” play.
Another hero of the same class of would-be-wits, said it was, however, completely in point, as counsellors were generally concerned in most cases of robbery; when another chap, to give a grand climax to the thing in question, laughingly told his companion that in suiting the action to the word, by flogging the clown off the table, if he had not used Mr. Merryman according to his deserts, it could not be said that he ha escaped a whipping. The “Knight of Woeful Countenance” appears to be quite exhausted with his search after windmills. and is lying on the ground. The flinty Mordecai, who would sooner loose his life than his “properish” [sic] on most occasions, but amorously inclined in the present instance, is giving way to his feeling, and don’t care a single farthing about his “moonish,” so that he can but gain his object; but, nevertheless, he cannot persuade the pig-faced lady to unmask “at any price.” The Jack Tar is quite pleased with his night’s cruise, and is continually singing out, “What a prime shiny, messmates!” Harlequin is “trying it on” with the lady near him to become his Columbine; and, if she will but consent to his wishes, he declares that with only a touch of his bat he can make her happiness complete. The wine had been pushed about so briskly during the time of supper, that the most numerous part of the company, from its potent effects, were fast losing their diffidence and reserve, which had rendered them so dull the previous part of the evening, and were getting as lively and gay as could be wished, each contributing some how or other towards the mirth and variety of the scene.
Supper being over, the ball-room once more became thronged with characters that might be said to be more alive than heretofore; and reeling, with several of them, required no assumption to execute new steps. The town clock tolled three, which gave a warning to the merry throng to disperse. Squad after squad slowly and reluctantly left the room—carriage after carriage rolled away at a rattling pace, filled with the dissipation of that night’s revel. Thus closed this grand masquerade, which is pronounced to surpass all others in richness ever given in this city.
My letter has already extended far beyond the usual limits of my correspondence, and warns me to close, notwithstanding the various other subjects I intended to embrace in this epistle when commencing.
[a digression about the Bank of Kentucky, not related to the masquerade]
HAWK-EYE
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