SOCIETY AT THE CAPITAL.
But while everything was dull and lifeless in the camps of the South, a
far different aspect was presented by its Capital. There was a stir and
bustle new to quiet Richmond. Congress had brought crowds of attaches
and hangers-on; and every department had its scores of dependents.
Officers from all quarters came in crowds to spend a short furlough, or
to attend to some points of interest to their commands before the
bureaux of the War Department. The full hotels showed activity and life
unknown to them. Business houses, attracted by the increased demands of
trade and the new channels opened by Government necessities, sprang up
on all sides; and the stores--though cramped by the blockade--began to
brush off their dust and show their best for the new customers. Every
branch of industry seemed to receive fresh impetus; and houses that had
for years plodded on in moldy obscurity shot, with the rapidity of
Jonah's gourd, up to first-class business.
The streets presented a scene of unwonted activity; and Franklin
street--the promenade _par excellence_, vied with "the avenue" in
the character and variety of the crowds that thronged its pavement. The
majority of the promenaders were officers, their uniforms contrasting
brightly with the more quiet dresses around. While many of them were
strangers, and the peculiarities of every State showed in the faces
that passed in rapid panorama, yet numbers of "Richmond boys" came back
for a short holiday; almost every one bringing his laurels and his
commission.
My friend, Wyatt, had kept his laughing promise, and showed me a
captain's bars. General Breckinridge had found him hiding in the ranks,
and had added A.A.G. to his title.
"Knew it, old man!" was his comment--"Virtue must be rewarded--merit,
like water, will find its level. Captain Wyatt, A.A.G.--demnition neat,
eh? Now, I'll be here a month, and we must do something in the social
line. I find the women still industry mad; but the sewing-circles get
up small _dullabilities_--'danceable teas,' as papa Dodd abroad calls
them. They're not splendid to a used-up man, like you--not Paris nor
yet Washington, but they'll show you our people."
And Wyatt was right. The people of Richmond had at first held up their
hands in holy horror at the mere mention of amusement! What! with a war
in the land must people enjoy themselves? Never! it would be heartless!
But human nature in Virginia is pretty much like human nature
everywhere else; and bad as the war was, people gradually got used to
"the situation." They had lost friends--a relation or two was pretty
badly marked perhaps--but what glory the tens and hundreds left had
gained! There was no fighting now; and the poor fellows in camp would
be only too glad to know that their brothers-in-arms were being paid
for their toils by the smiles of the fair. The great majority of the
strangers, too, were young men who had been recommended to the mercy of
the society by these very sufferers in camp.
Gradually these influences worked--the younger and gayer people
indulged in the "danceable teas," Wyatt spoke of, after their
sewing-circles. Imperceptibly the sewing was left for other times; and
by Christmas there was a more constant--if less formal and
general--round of gaiety than had been known for years. This brought
the citizens and strangers more together, and naturally the result was
a long season of more regular parties and unprecedented gaiety. Many
still frowned at this, and, as usual, made unhappy Washington the
scapegoat--averring that her pernicious example of heartlessness and
frivolity had worked the evil.
These rigid Romans staid at home and worked on zealously in their
manufacture of warm clothing, deformed socks and impossible gloves for
the soldier boys. All honor to them for their constancy, if they
thought they were right, and the harmless gaiety wrong; and they fought
the good fight, from behind their _abatis_ of knitting needles, only
with the innocent weapons of tongue and precept. But human nature and
inclination still held their own; and there were many defections from
the ranks of the elect, to those of the more practical--and probably
equally well-intentioned--pleasure-seekers.
But parties were by no means the only resource for pleasure-lovers.
Anything that combined amusement and put dollars in the treasuries of
charitable societies became the rage; and here the rigidly virtuous and
the non-elect met on neutral ground. Among the amateurs of the city
were some who would have taken high rank in any musical circle, and
these gave a series of concerts for the benefit of distressed families
of the soldiers. The performers were the most fashionable of the
society; and, of course, the judgment of their friends--who crowded to
overflowing the churches where the concerts were held--was not to be
relied on. But critics from New Orleans and all parts of the South
declared the performances creditable to any city. After them the
audience broke up into little cliques and had the jolliest little
suppers the winter produced, with the inevitable "lancers" until the
smallest of small hours.
Then, there were charades and tableaux parties; while a few--more
ambitious of histrionic fame--got up private theatricals. Altogether,
in the gay set, the first winter of the war was one to be written in
red letters, for old Richmond rang with a chime of merry laughter that
for the time drowned the echo of the summer's fights and the groans of
the wayside hospitals.
One unique point in the society of Richmond struck me with a constantly
recurring surprise. I could not get accustomed to the undisputed
supremacy of the unmarried element that almost entirely composed it. It
constantly seemed to me that the young people had seized the society
while their elders' heads were turned, and had run away with it for a
brief space; and I always looked to see older people come in, with
reproof upon their brows, and take charge of it again. But I looked in
vain. One day at a dinner, I remarked this to my next neighbor;
suggesting that it was only because of the war. She was one of the most
charming women the society could boast--scarcely more than a bride,
just out of her teens, beautiful, accomplished and very gay.
"Strangers always remark this," she answered; "but it is not the result
of the war, or of the influx of strangers, as you suppose. Since I can
remember, only unmarried people have been allowed to go to parties by
the tyrants of seventeen who control them. We married folks do the
requisite amount of visiting and teaing-out; and sometimes even rise in
our wrath and come out to dinner. But as for a party--no! As soon as a
girl is married, she must make up her mind to pay her bridal visits,
dance a few weeks upon sufferance and then fold up her party dresses.
No matter how young, how pretty, or how pleasant she may be, the
Nemesis pursues her and she must succumb. The pleasant Indian idea of
taking old people to the river bank and leaving them for the tide, is
overstrictly carried out by our celibate Brahmins. Marriage is our
Ganges. Don't you wonder how we ever dare to declare ourselves old
enough?"
I did wonder; for it had always been a hobby of mine that a certain
amount of the married leaven was necessary in every society to give it
tone and stamina. Though the French principle of excluding young
ladies from all social intercourse, and giving the patent of society to
_Madame_, may be productive of more harm than good, the converse seems
equally objectionable. I can recollect no society in which some of the
most pleasant memories do not center around the intercourse with its
married portion. Richmond is no exception to the rule. In the South,
women marry younger than in the colder states; and it often happens
that the very brightest and most attractive points of character do
not mature until an age when they have gotten their establishment. The
education of the Virginia girl is so very different in all essential
points from that of the northerner of the same station, that she is
far behind her in self-reliance and _aplomb_. There is, doubtless, much
in native character, but more in early surroundings and the habit
of education. The southerner, more languid and emotional, but less
self-dependent--even if equally "up in" showier accomplishments--is not
formed to shine most at an early stage of her social career. Firmer
foothold and more intimate knowledge of its intricacies are necessary
to her, before she takes her place as a woman of the world.
Hence, I was much puzzled to account for the patent fact that the
better matured of its flowers should be so entirely suppressed, in the
Richmond bouquet, by the half-opened buds. These latter, doubtless,
gave a charming promise of bloom and fragrance when they came to their
full; but too early they left an effect of immaturity and crudity upon
the sense of the unaccustomed. Yet Richmond had written over the
portals of its society: Who enters here no spouse must leave behind!
and the law was of the Medan. A stranger within their gates had no
right to cavil at a time-honored custom; but not one could spend a
winter week in the good old town, and fail to have this sense of
unfinishedness in her society fabric.
The fair daughters of the Capital are second to none in beauty, grace
and the higher charm of pure womanhood. Any assembly showed fresh,
bright and gentle faces, with constant pretty ones, and an occasional
marked beauty. There is a peculiar, lithe grace, normal to the South,
that is hard to describe; and, on the whole, even when not beautiful,
there is a _je ne sais quoi_ that renders her women very attractive.
The male element at parties ranged from _passe_ beau to the boy with
the down still on his cheek--ancient bachelors and young husbands alike
had the open sesame. But if a married lady, however young in years or
wifehood, passed the forbidden limits by accident--_Vae victis!_
She was soon made to feel that the sphere of the mated was pantry
or nursery--not the ball-room. To stranger dames--if young and
lively--justice a little less stern was meted; but even they, after a
few offenses, were made to feel how hard is the way of the transgressor.
In a community like Richmond, where every one in the circle had played
together in childhood, or was equally intimate, such a state of things
might readily obtain. In a larger city, never. It spoke volumes for the
purity and simplicity of the society that for years it had gone on
thus, and no necessity for any matronage had been felt. But now the
case was different--a large promiscuous element of military guests was
thrown into it; and it struck all that society must change its
primitive habit.
The village custom still prevailed in this--a gentleman could call for
a lady--take her in his charge alone and without any chaperone--to a
party and bring her back at the "we sma' hours." This was not only
well, as long as the "Jeanette and Jenot" state of society prevailed,
but it told convincingly the whole story of the honest truth of men and
women. But with the sudden influx--when a wolf might so readily have
imitated the guise of the lamb--a slight hedge of form could in no
manner have intimated a necessity for it. Yet Richmond, in the proud
consciousness of her simple purity, disdained all such precautions; and
the informalities of the country town obtained in the salons of the
nation's Capital.
But parties were not the only hospitalities the wanderers received at
the hands of the Virginians. In no state in the country one becomes
domesticated so soon as in the Old Dominion. You may come to any of its
towns a perfect stranger, but with a name known to one prominent
citizen, or fortified with a few letters from the right source, and in
a time astonishingly short you find yourself at home. This has been
time out of mind Virginian custom; and as Richmond is but a condensation
of all that is Virginian, it prevailed here as well. If the stranger
did not give himself up to the whirl and yield himself, "rescue or no
rescue," to the lance of the unmarried, he could find, behind the
_chevaux de frise_ of clashing knitting-needles, the most genial
welcome and most whole-souled hospitality.
"Stupid party last night--too full," criticised Wyatt, as he lounged in
my room one morning. "You seemed bored, old man, though I saw you with
Nell H. Desperate flirt--pretty, too! But take my advice; let her
alone. It don't pay to flirt."--The ten years between the captain and
myself were to _my_ credit on Time's ledger--"It's all very well to
stick up your pennon and ride gaily into the lists to break a lance
with all comers. Society cries _laissez aller!_ and her old dowagers
shower _largesse_. Presto! my boy, and you find your back on the grass
and your heels in the air. But I've some steady-going cousins I want to
introduce you to. Suit you exactly."
Confound the boy! Where did he get that idea? But I was introduced to
the "steady-going cousins" and to me now the Richmond of memory begins
and ends in their circle. The jovial, pleasant family dinner around the
old-time board; the consciousness of ready welcome to the social
fireside, or partake of the muffin at eight, or the punch--brewed very
near Father Tom's receipt--at midnight. Then the never-to-be-forgotten
coterie of the brightest women of the day under the shaded droplight,
in the long winter evenings! And none were excluded by the "steady
goers" because they had committed matrimony. They did quantities of
work that season; baskets of socks, bales of shirts and boxes of
gloves, in numbers marvelous to see, went from that quiet circle to
warm the frozen hands and feet, keeping watch and ward for them. And
the simple words of cheer and love that went with them must have warmed
hearts far colder than beat under the rough shirts they sent.
And never did the genial current of talk--sometimes chatty, sometimes
brilliant--flag for a moment. The foremost men of government and
army were admitted, and I doubt if ever the most ardent of the
unmarried--wilting in the lancers, or deliquescing in the _deux
temps_--found very much more genuine enjoyment than the "easy goers,"
over their distorted socks and impracticable gloves.
They talked of books, events and people, and no doubt gossiped hugely;
but though some of the _habitues_ were on the shady side of thirty and
were sedately walking in the quiet parts of spinsterhood, I never heard
one bitter--far less one scandalous, word!
_Ferat qui meruit palmam!_ Let the green leaves adorn those wonderful
women!
But the novelty most remarked in the society of this winter was the
household of President Davis. Soon after the Government was firmly
established in Richmond, the State of Virginia placed at his disposal a
plain but comfortable house; and here--with only the ladies of his
family and his private secretary--he lived with the quiet simplicity of
a private citizen.
It will hardly be invading her _sacra privata_ to say that the
President's lady did everything to remove false ideas that sprung up
regarding the social atmosphere of the "Executive Mansion." She was "at
home" every evening; and, collecting round her a staff that numbered
some of the most noted men and brilliant women both of the stranger and
resident society, assured all her varied guests a warm welcome and a
pleasant visit. In this circle Mr. Davis would, after the trying
business of the day, give himself an hour's relaxation before entering
on labors that went far into the night; and favored friends and chance
visitors alike here met the man, where they expected the official.
Austere and thoughtful at all times, rarely unbending to show the vein
of humor hidden deep under his stern exterior, and having besides "the
divinity that doth hedge" even a republican president, Mr. Davis was
never calculated for personal popularity. Even in the early days of his
career he forced by his higher qualities--rather than sought by the
arts of a trickster--the suffrages of his people; and they continued to
cast their shells for him, even while they clamored that he was "the
Just."
Whatever grave errors reflecting criticisms may lay at his door;
whatever share in the ruin of the South, the future historians may
ascribe to his unswerving self-will and unvarying faith in his own
power--no one who traces his career from West Point to the New Saint
Helena--will call them failings of the demagogue.
In these informal receptions of his lady, Mr. Davis said little;
listening to the varied flow of talk that showed her equally cognizant
and appreciative of social, literary and sterner topics. For the
edification of the gayer visitor, she related odd experiences of her
public life, with rare power of description and admirable flashes of
humor. She discussed the latest book with some of the small _litterateurs_
with whom she was infested; or talked knowingly of the last picture, or
the newest opera, faint echoes from which might elude the grim blockaders
on the coast.
Mr. Davis spoke little, seeming to find a refreshing element in her
talk, that--as she pithily said of some one else--was like tea, that
cheers but not inebriates. Occasionally he clinched an argument, or
gave a keener point to an idea by a short, strong sentence.
After all had partaken of the cup of tea handed round informally, Mr.
Davis retired to his study and once more donned his armor for battle
with the giants without and the dwarfs within his territory.
These informal "evenings" began to grow popular with the better class
of Virginians, and tended to a much more cordial tone between the
citizens and their chief. They were broken by bi-monthly "levees," at
which Mr. and Mrs. Davis received "the world and his wife."
But the formal "levee" was a Washington custom and smacked too much of
the "old concern" to become very popular, although curiosity to see the
man of the hour and to assist at an undress review of the celebrities
of the new nation, thronged the parlors each fortnight. A military band
was always in attendance; the chiefs of cabinet and bureaux moved about
the crowd; and generals--who had already won names to live
forever--passed, with small hands resting lightly on their chevrons,
and bright eyes speaking most eloquently that old truism about who best
deserve the fair.
More than once that winter General Johnston moved through the
rooms--followed by all eyes and calling up memories of subtle strategy
and hard-won victory. Sometimes the burly form of Longstreet appeared,
ever surrounded by those "little people" in whom he delighted; and the
blonde beard of Hood--whose name already began to shine with promise of
its future brilliance--towered over the throng of leading editors,
"senior wranglers" from both houses of Congress, and dancing men
wasting their time in the vain effort to talk.
But not only the chosen ten thousand were called. Sturdy artisans, with
their best coats and hands scrubbed to the proper point of cleanliness
for shaking the President's, were always there. Moneyed men came, with
speculation in their eyes, and lobby members trying to throw dust
therein; while country visitors--having screwed their courage up to the
desperate point of being presented--always dropped Mr. Davis' hand as
if its not over-cordial grasp burned them.
But the "levees" on the whole, if odd exhibitions, were at least useful
in letting the "dear public" have a little glimpse of the inner
workings of the great machine of government. And they proved, even more
than the social evenings, the ease of right with which Varina Howell
Davis wore her title of "the first lady in the land."
The men of Richmond have spoken for themselves. They wrote the history
of their class when they came forward--one and all, to sacrifice
ease--affluence--life for the cause they felt to be just. There were
some, as I shall hereafter endeavor to show, who were dwellers with
them, but were not of them. These did nothing and gave nothing
willingly for a cause in which they saw only a speculation. This is not
the place to speak of such. They belong not to the goodly company of
those who--whatever their weaknesses, or even their errors--proclaimed
themselves honest men and chivalric gentlemen.
The young men of the whole South are off-hand and impulsive; either
naturally careless in pecuniary matters, or made so by habit. Sowing
wild oats is an almost universal piece of farming; and the crop is as
luxuriant in the mountains of Virginia as in the overflowed lands of
Louisiana.
Perhaps in Richmond they were not now seen from the most advantageous
point of view. They were generally young planters from the country,
reckless, jovial and prone to the lighter dissipations; or the young
business and professional men, who rebounded from the routine of their
former lives into a little extra rapidity. One and all--for the eyes
they sought would not have looked upon them else--they had gone into
the army; had fought and wrought well; and now with little to do, boon
companionship and any amount of petting, they were paying for it. The
constant strain of excitement produced much dissipation certainly--but
it seldom took the reprehensible form of rowdyism and debauch. Some men
drank deeply--at dinners, at balls and at bar-rooms; some gambled, as
Virginians always had gambled--gaily, recklessly and for ruinous
stakes. But find them where you would, there was about the men a
careless pervading _bonhomie_ and a natural high tone resistlessly
attractive, yet speaking them worthy descendants of the "Golden Horse
Shoe Knights."
As yet the influence of the Government was little felt socially. The
presence of a large congregation of army men from the various camps had
given an impetus to gaiety it would not otherwise have known; but this
was all. There was little change in the habits and tone of social
intercourse. The black shadow of Washington had not yet begun to spread
itself, and its corrupt breath had not yet polluted the atmosphere of
the good old town.
The presence of Congress, with its ten thousand followers, would hardly
be considered as elevating anywhere. There is an odor of tobacco--of
rum--of discredit--of anything but sanctity about the American
politician that makes his vicinage unpleasant and unprofitable.
Congress had met in the quiet halls of the Virginia legislature. At
first all Richmond flocked thither, crowding galleries and lobbies to
see the might and intellect of the new nation in its most august
aspect; to be refreshed and strengthened by the full streams that
flowed from that powerful but pure and placid fountain; to hear words
that would animate the faint and urge the ready to braver and higher
deeds.
Perhaps they did not hear all this; for after a little they stopped
going, and the might and majesty of the new giant's intellect was left
severely to itself. Of the herd of camp-followers who over-flowed the
hotels and filled the streets, little note was taken. An occasional
curious stare--a semi-occasional inquiry as to who they were--and they
passed even up Franklin street without more remark. To the really
worthy in government or army, the cordial hand of honest welcome was
extended.
The society unvaryingly showed its appreciation of excellence of
intellect or character, and such as were known, or found to possess it,
were at once received on the footing of old friends. But on the whole,
the sentiment of the city was not in favor of the run of the new
comers. The leaders of society kept somewhat aloof, and the general
population gave them the sidewalk. It was as though a stately and
venerable charger, accustomed for years to graze in a comfortable
pasture, were suddenly intruded on by an unsteady and vicious drove of
bad manners and low degree. The thoroughbred can only condescend to
turn away.
Willing as they were to undergo anything for the cause, the Virginians
could not have relished the savor of the new importations; nor can one
who knows the least of the very unclean nature of our national politics
for a moment wonder.
Montgomery had been a condensed and desiccated preparation of the
Washington stew, highly flavored with the raciest vices. Richmond
enjoyed the same mess, with perhaps an additional kernel or two of that
garlic.