I didn't look for a description of a Scottish leap year ball, but I came across one anyway while rummaging through newspaper archives. This was an actual Leap Day ball, held on "that carnival of female freedom", February 29, 1892, in Dundee. It was described the next day in the Evening Telegraph.
The ball was hosted by the ladies of the Physical Recreation Society, presumably a branch of the National Physical Recreation Society founded by Herbert Gladstone in 1885 or 1886. According to the website of The John Hulley Memorial Fund, the NPRS was the successor of the National Olympian Association (1865-1883) and a founder organization of the British Olympic Association (1905). While not an Olympic sport, dancing was certainly physical recreation, as the author of the article noted:
It goes without saying that it was full of “go,” for gymnastics—or, shall we say, physical culture?—means health, and health means high spirits, and high spirits spell enjoyment and fresh pleasure.
Large sections of the article were devoted to describing the dresses and the decor. But there is also substantial information about the dance program, which is interesting not just as a leap year ball but as an example of an 1890s Scottish ball in general, and about the ladies in charge. In true leap year tradition,
Seven ladies of the Society formed the Committee, and managed everything, including their men friends who ventured to criticise the arrangements.
Along with organizing the ball, they wore badges and acted as the reception committee and floor managers at the ball itself:
They were all distinguished last night by a tiny bow of red and black striped ribbon, carrying a five-pointed star, on which were inscribed the initials of the Society. Their functions were to act as a Reception Committee, to introduce strangers, give the signal for the music to strike up, and so on,
...though occasionally they became distracted by the pleasures of the dance:
all of which pleasant duties were duly performed—excepting when a gadding member floated off in a fascinating waltz, oblivious of the obligations imposed by her badge, and other quite excusable lapses of that nature. “Oh, I’m dancing the first waltz! I forgot all about this!” said one fair lady, as she looked ruefully at her star.
Details of the decor (and the ladies' dresses) may be read below for those interested. The only thing that really caught my eye was the deliberate arrangement of the gallery to provide a suitable setting for sitting out and flirting, acknowledged unusually bluntly:
...the crowning triumph of the decorator’s art and ingenuity was the gallery, with its gay rugs, its cosy couches and lazy loungers, its plants, its screens, and its facilities for flirtation generally. For, with commendable forethought, the Committee had contrived the most delicious nooks for the convenience of that charming dolce far niente designated “sitting out.”
But the highlight of the article for me was, of course, the dance details, which were fairly extensive. While a program list in order was not included, the article notes that for dances,
There were eighteen on the programme, two extra waltzes to start with, and no less than five extra supper dances.
and that they included primarily waltz, polka, and schottische (though not the increasingly fashionable mazurka or the relatively new pas de quatre, at least while the author was in attendance) varied by an occasional Lancers. I'm not sure what to make of "five extra supper dances" -- did they keep postponing supper to squeeze more dances in? Did the ladies keep the same partner they had intended for the original supper dance?
A quadrille was apparently a bit of a disaster:
The quadrille—“a kind of doze in time and tune”—was danced to reel time, and with a singular want of unanimity as to time and figure.
The reel, however, was very well-performed, albeit by a small subset of the attendees, most of whom watched from the gallery:
The reel was a capital performance, the grace and agility of the dancers arousing the admiring envy of the onlookers, who were in a big majority. I heard one man announce when some one asked him if he was going to dance the national measure, “Yes, I’ve got a partner—for the gallery”—which, indeed, was the favourite mode of getting through the dance.
I'm not sure what to make of the "leap year dances" here either:
The leap year dances were rather amusing, though I have more than a suspicion that the selecting of partners was a “put up” thing.
Weren't they all leap year dances, it being a leap year ball? It seems unlikely, given that it was a leap year ball, that only these dances were ladies' choice. My best guess is that these were some form of cotillion, with partners selected in an unusual way.
The chaperones, to the pleasure of the younger women, did not dance:
I am glad to say that these ladies proved most considerate in the manner of dancing, or rather of not dancing, a magnanimity which won its due reward in the gratitude of their charges.
The men apparently found the "leap year dances" quite stressful, perhaps because they outnumbered by twenty the ladies present and had correspondingly lower odds of getting a parner:
The shadow of the ordeal, however, seemed to weigh heavily on the men throughout the evening. They were twenty to the good, and they were given to assembling in a gregarious knot in the middle of the floor and surveying the beauties ranged along the walls in company in a way which was highly ludicrous. They seemed to feel that they were on approbation, and must make as good an impression as possible on their future partners.
They did have an escape, however, the ladies of Dundee apparently not being as strict as those of some American towns:
The masculine “wallflower” has one great advantage over the feminine, however. Instead of sitting up and endeavouring, with more or less success, to look sweet, he escapes to he smoking-room and finds solace in the fragrant weed for his partnerless condition—an evasion which rather “riles” the girls, to whom no such loophole is open.
A full transcription of the article follows.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
THE LADIES’ LEAP YEAR DANCE AT THE GYMNASIUM.
[From Our Own Lady Contributor.]
I always thought that the ladies of the Physical Recreation Society were plucky girls, and now I am sure of it — and lucky as well — for there could not have been a more delightful dance than the Leap Year ball they gave last night in the new Gymnasium. It goes without saying that it was full of “go,” for gymnastics—or, shall we say, physical culture?—means health, and health means high spirits, and high spirits spell enjoyment and fresh pleasure. Seven ladies of the Society formed the Committee, and managed everything, including their men friends who ventured to criticise the arrangements. They were all distinguished last night by a tiny bow of red and black striped ribbon, carrying a five-pointed star, on which were inscribed the initials of the Society. Their functions were to act as a Reception Committee, to introduce strangers, give the signal for the music to strike up, and so on, all of which pleasant duties were duly performed—excepting when a gadding member floated off in a fascinating waltz, oblivious of the obligations imposed by her badge, and other quite excusable lapses of that nature. “Oh, I’m dancing the first waltz! I forgot all about this!” said one fair lady, as she looked ruefully at her star.
THE DECORATIONS
The hall looked very well, and by dint of draperies of terra cotta and pale blue art muslin arranged round the front of the gallery in graceful billows, had quite a decorative effect. No gymnastic apparatus was in sight to recall the workaday world with the exception of the ladders, which were festooned, and made a sort of alcove specially beloved of the Newport folks. A line of flags ran across the centre of the hall, and Chinese lanterns were suspended at intervals from the railings. But the crowning triumph of the decorator’s art and ingenuity was the gallery, with its gay rugs, its cosy couches and lazy loungers, its plants, its screens, and its facilities for flirtation generally. For, with commendable forethought, the Committee had contrived the most delicious nooks for the convenience of that charming dolce far niente designated “sitting out.” To be sure, the screened corners were just perhaps the least trifle obtrusively unobtrusive, but you can’t help that when a bare gallery is all you have to go upon. I heard one man speculate as to the intention of a pale pink and blue tent in one corner which long remained tenantless. He came to the conclusion that it as for taking photographs in, and, I believe, persuaded his fair companion to go and sample the impression! The supper-room, where the oysters and claret cup were both of the best, was screened off from one side of the gallery, and the musicians were accommodated in one of the side balconies.
THE DANCES.
The Committee were generous in the matter of dances. There were eighteen on the programme, two extra waltzes to start with, and no less than five extra supper dances. I am afraid that there must have been a fearful slaughter of the innocents ere the evening came to an end. There was no mazurka, though that is beginning to find its way into fashionable programmes, and “those gamesome chits, waltz, polka, and schottische,” divided the honours between them, varied by an occasional set of lancers. The quadrille—“a kind of doze in time and tune”—was danced to reel time, and with a singular want of unanimity as to time and figure. The reel was a capital performance, the grace and agility of the dancers arousing the admiring envy of the onlookers, who were in a big majority. I heard one man announce when some one asked him if he was going to dance the national measure, “Yes, I’ve got a partner—for the gallery”—which, indeed, was the favourite mode of getting through the dance. A pas de quatre was promised, but did not come off as long as I was there. Needless to say, that was not the agile performance in which Mr. Clease exercises his pupils! The leap year dances were rather amusing, though I have more than a suspicion that the selecting of partners was a “put up” thing. The shadow of the ordeal, however, seemed to weigh heavily on the men throughout the evening. They were twenty to the good, and they were given to assembling in a gregarious knot in the middle of the floor and surveying the beauties ranged along the walls in company in a way which was highly ludicrous. They seemed to feel that they were on approbation, and must make as good an impression as possible on their future partners. The masculine “wallflower” has one great advantage over the feminine, however. Instead of sitting up and endeavouring, with more or less success, to look sweet, he escapes to he smoking-room and finds solace in the fragrant weed for his partnerless condition—an evasion which rather “riles” the girls, to whom no such loophole is open.
THE DRESSES.
I am a long time in coming to the frocks, but, to tell the truth, there was nothing very striking in the matter of toilettes. We are nearing the end of the season, and—just let me whisper it—there are one or two smart “hops” in the near future for which careful girls are saving their best gowns. White was greatly in favour—white which loses its raison d’etre when it has become soiled—and, really, many of the white dresses last night were hardly worthy of the solicitude of their wearers in keeping them off the floor. One of the prettiest white toilettes was worn by a young bride—white silk, with crystal passementerie on the bodice, and a long scarf falling from one shoulder almost to the edge of the skirt. A white dress veiled with gold-spangled net looked very well. Another had the basque edged with a deep fringe of crystal beads, and a third was becomingly combined with pink chiffon, which formed a frill on the skirt, and a soft fulling about the corsage. A soft creamy robe with a Watteau back and floating ribbons was much admired. The spring colours were much in vogue, mauve like crocus, and primula, and lilac, and yellow, ranging from the pale gold of the primrose to the warm glow of the buttercup. A very pretty soft heliotrope gown had a frill of chiffon about the basque, and knots of violets, with their green leaves nestling among the festoons of net at the foot of the skirt. Another pretty lilac gown was relieved with loops and streamers of broad velvet in a darker tone; and yet another successful arrangement was brightened by a trimming of silver galon and fine silver cord.
I thought the prettiest yellow gown was one with a front of white and gold brocade, cut up into leaf-shaped tabs over a tucked underskirt. The bodice was edged with embroidered lesse in soft colouring. Another effective frock was of a rich full shade of yellow silk, with gracefully folded bodice and full puffed sleeves, trimmed about the corsage with chiffon. A bright cardinal dress was very telling, and several in eau de Nil effective if not uncommon. A tall, fair, pretty girl in black, with crimson bows on the bodice, looked extremely well. One chaperon wore a handsome toilette of figured net over bronze-hued shot silk, with fine diamond ornaments; another was in sage green and black brocade, the front veiled with black lace. I am glad to say that these ladies proved most considerate in the manner of dancing, or rather of not dancing, a magnanimity which won its due reward in the gratitude of their charges. Altogether the ball was a great success, and worthily celebrated that carnival of feminine freedom—Leap Year’s Day.
-- Evening Telegraph (Dundee, Scotland), Issue 4687, Tuesday, March 1, 1892, p. 2.
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