“THE FUEL.”... WHAT THE WOMEN DID.
[Illustration]
[LOVELY WOMAN.]
Nature always provides for emergencies. The world required steamboats
and locomotives, and, lo! a Fulton and a Stephenson appeared to supply
the demand. We craved a means of rapid intercommunication, and Mr. Morse
sat down and invented his telegraph. We experienced a soaring desire to
sail through the air, and George Francis Train stepped forward to
inflate our balloons. So, when a lady competent to organize and
superintend the workings of her sisters, became requisite to the success
of the Centennial project, nature did not desert us. Uprose, as the poet
sweetly remarks,
“A perfect woman, nobly planned
To boss an army or a peanut stand,”
and grasping the banner, Mrs. Emma D.E.N. Gillespie became the special
partner of the Board of Finance.
Were we about writing a work in twenty quarto volumes, the kind we have
been in the habit of producing, we might faintly hope to do justice to
the prodigies accomplished by the noble women of America, and especially
by our own Philadelphia ladies. What we do write, however, is the result
of personal observation. Blessed with female relatives _in esse_ and _in
posse_, who have been active members of ward committees since the first
trumpet tone, we write advisedly; having been snubbed, sacrificed, and
made secondary to centennial enthusiasm for three long years, we write
with a proper appreciation of the solemn duty in hand.
The dear creatures travelled up to the State-House steeple; they glanced
around upon the situation; they rolled up their sleeves, metaphorically,
and swooped down upon the city. They canvassed stores and factories from
turret to foundation stone; they invaded dingy counting-houses, and
sauntered like sunbeams into dusty offices, collecting subscriptions to
centennial stock, peddling centennial medals, and doing irreparable
damage to the peace of simpering clerks, blushing salesmen, and
susceptible employers. A single case will serve for illustration. Listen
to the story of
A POOR YOUNG MAN.
[Illustration]
[“NOT WISELY BUT TOO WELL.”]
He was an innocent youth, undergoing initiation into the mysteries of
compounding and weighing out sugars, teas, and spices at a West-End
grocery. A Spruce Street damsel did the cruel deed. She visited the
establishment several times in reference to some shares of stock, and
her passing glance sank into his soul. His deep, poetic nature demanded
an outlet for the sacred fire. Ætna will burst; Vesuvius will explode.
Ætna and Vesuvius were but parlor matches compared to him.
The evening succeeding the lady’s third visit to the grocery, a package,
neatly done up in brown paper, was left at her residence by a youth who
vanished upon the instant. The lady untied the bundle, and discovered an
A. No. 1 salted codfish. The following lines, on pink initial note
(slightly greased), were fastened to its tail by a blue ribbon:--
“My love is boundless as the ocean,
Deep as its waters my devotion.
This cod, sweet maid, is salt--
Salt is the ocean too;
By logical analogy, therefore, this fish will prove
Type of my love for you.”
Next evening, about the same time, another package arrived, with another
poetic sentiment in the same handwriting:--
“I send a can of salmon soused,
’Tis sweetness in the sour;
O, would your smile the salmon was,
In my forlorn soused hour!”
The lady was somewhat puzzled, though gratified. Her father was somewhat
puzzled, though not gratified. Their quandary was not lessened upon
receiving a third delicate present the next evening.
“I offer my love two pounds of chipped beef,
’Twill be nice for her breakfast or sup;
O the love in my heart’s not at all like the beef--
For, sweet maid, _that_ can never dry up!”
“Can’t never dry up, eh?” said the old man the following evening, as he
pulled on his thickest boots, and took up a commanding position on the
front-door step. “Can’t never dry up, eh?--we’ll see.”
But the mysterious messenger flanked him by ringing at the back gate.
“Sweet maid, sweet maid, O pray accept
This jar of pickled onions;
They’ll tell thee of the tears I’ve wept,
And sighs vent by the ton-ions.
They’re round, too, like the planet Earth;
Like earth, my love’s complete;
May this to sweetest thoughts give birth,
When of them you shall eat.”
Another evening came; the old gentleman was again upon the step; the
family butcher was sauntering carelessly by the back gate. Alas! in
place of the youth, ’twas the grocer himself who called. The butcher did
not know him; he obeyed instructions. On the day of the unfortunate
man’s funeral these lines were read; they were found in his pocket, and
explain the cause of his inopportune visit:--
“Sweet maid, sweet maid, I had a clerk,
A taking youth was he;
I’ve sent _him_ up to Cherry Hill,
The _bill_--I bring to thee.”
We will dwell no longer upon this mournful episode, but return to our
main subject.
[ROMEO AND JULIET.]
The ladies of the various ward committees did not confine their efforts
to canvassing. They worked afghans that nobody wanted, and slippers that
nobody could use; purchased desks that wouldn’t open, and pocket-books
that wouldn’t shut, and raffled them off at prices as fancy as the goods
themselves. They appeared in amateur theatricals and variety shows.
Every ward had its Romeo and its Juliet; every precinct its Lady Macbeth
and Wellington De Boots. Their acting was wonderful and awe-inspiring.
Audiences gazed upon them in public with dumb amaze, and wept in
private, they knew not why. People began to look upon tickets for
amateur performances as Japanese officials regard a polite invitation to
“Hari Kari.” Call-boys and scene-shifters at regular theatres set up for
luminaries. The demoralization of the drama was complete.
But all these things were mere side dishes, to be mentioned incidentally
in connection with the combined efforts, viz.:--
“The Great National Tea Party,”
“The Greater International Tea Party,” and
“The Greatest Patent Loan Office Exhibition.”
It is with a feeling of profound diffidence that we allude to them.
THE NATIONAL OR MARTHA WASHINGTON TEA PARTY.
[TOAST AND TEA.]
Under the supervision of their revered sovereign and her executive star
chamber cabinet, the ladies transformed the Academy of Music and
Horticultural Hall into one grand coffee house and sandwich caravansary.
To save the expense of attendants, the aids themselves dispensed tea and
coffee, smiles and gingerbread, bewitching glances and ham sandwiches to
the thousands crowding the vast saloons. They attired themselves in
old-time fashion to look like so many Mrs. Washingtons. Many a family
cheerfully sacrificed its furniture covers to array its daughters in the
style of costume made sacred by Martha. They stuck little blotches of
black court plaster upon their chins, cheeks, and the tips of their
noses, to imitate her venerated pimples, and dipped their heads into
the family flour barrel to make their hair look like to hers.
Each ward represented one of the States of our Union, and the rivalry
between their tables, though good-natured, was intense. At one table
they sold tea made in Martha’s china tea pot; at another table they
dispensed slices from a pie having its edges scalloped by her false
teeth; while a third overtopped all competition and did an immense
business, regaling customers with sausage manufactured from the remains
of her pet poodle. The aids who dealt out this luxury seemed conscious
of the sacred trust. Tears of patriotism dimmed the lustre of their
lovely eyes.
They sold nosegays at the price of small conservatories, but pinned them
on coat lappels without extra charge. They did more. With apparent
cheerfulness, they accompanied male friends to the hall below, where the
band played, and with them hopped and skipped, and glided and dipped, as
if they were really enjoying themselves, and not sacrificing comfort to
love of country.
The pecuniary result of this affair was most gratifying. The Finance
Committee kindly acknowledged this fact to its special partner,
requesting her to do so some more and keep the ball rolling. Yet still
its grandeur was eclipsed, totally eclipsed, by the next great effort.
THE INTERNATIONAL TEA PARTY.
[THIERS ON MOONSHINE.]
Between the two tea drinkings, however, a _Fête Champêtre_ was held at
Belmont, near the Centennial grounds. We wrote to France, Mrs.
Gillespie’s native land, to find out what a _fête champêtre_ meant. Our
respected friend Thiers replied. “You go out,” he wrote, “to some nice
quiet spot. In the evening you hang a few lanterns on the trees, and
leaving the other folks to dance, you yourself wander off with some
‘nearer and dearer one yet than all others,’ to explore the surrounding
country, its shadowed nooks and moonlit glens.” Of course we went. But
somehow everybody else was leaving the others to dance and seeking
moonshine. Never before was there such a demand for nooks and glens
since nooks and glens were first invented.
The _fête_ was a perfect success as far as moonshine was concerned, but
not pecuniarily. The caterer of the evening is wearing away his days in
an insane asylum. Who cares for Champagne when they can have nearer and
dearer ones? Who cares for lobster salad when they can have nooks and
glens?
A second tea party, to retrieve the reputation of the cabinet, was
decided upon. This time, however, instead of representing only our
States, all the nations of the earth were to be typified.
“No pent up Utica contracts our powers;
The world’s four boundless continents are ours.
EMMA R.”
were the suggestive lines with which “General orders 197” terminated.
The aids appeared in the costumes which long theatrical usage has
established as nationally characteristic. For three successive evenings,
a thing of beauty and a joy for Emma enchanted and astounded throngs of
visitors, and would have been continued longer had not everybody
unfortunately run out of small change.
[YE MIGHTY ALPS.]
Each table was adorned by what the ladies fondly believed to be an
unmistakable designating peculiarity. One ward went into business with a
few yards of glazed paper and a Noah’s Ark, and reared up the mighty
Alps. Shem, Ham, and Japhet stared blankly into futurity from the
storied peaks; old Noah and his wife looked around in a bewildered
manner as though wondering what the genesis they were doing in that
locality, while their sheep, goats, cows, elephants, tigers, crocodiles,
and whales jumped indiscriminately from crag to crag.
[Illustration]
An odor of Swiss cheese, from the sandwiches, made the illusion perfect.
The ladies of another ward had ingeniously built a polar bear with an
inner structure of rags covered by variegated cat skins. He was a little
lop-sided, but didn’t seem to mind it. He stood serenely upon a looking
glass glacier, with tail erect, and the Russian flag between his teeth.
The 8th ward (Republic of Lima) made a splendid display of Lima beans,
boiled and in soup. The aids were not afraid to say “beans” to anybody.
But the 21st ward (Isle of Man) carried off the prize. This committee
had secured, at enormous expense, a live specimen of the native. He was
quite docile and harmless; yellow whiskers, and wore eye-glasses. This
table was the Mecca to which all the aids flocked when off duty.
Talk about your heroines of revolutionary times! Bah! Do you suppose
that Moll Pitcher would have donned striped leggings, a gauze flounce,
and a sash around the shoulders, and wandered around like the Amazons in
the “Black Crook,” as did Mrs. Vowl of the 20th ward? Would Mrs. John
Adams, the wife and mother of presidents, pattern of patriotism as she
was--would she have put on spangled breeches and a turban of red, green,
and yellow with a turkey’s feather in front, and trotted up and down the
Foyer of the Academy with a bucket of lemon peel and water, calling it
“sherbet,” and pretending not to notice the excruciating look which
distorted the countenances of the unfortunates inveigled into investing
in a glass and then feeling compelled to empty it? To these questions
there can be but one response. You shall make it.
The result of this festival was also satisfactory to the Finance
Committee and to all concerned. The ladies were encouraged to renewed
efforts. They racked their brains searching for a novel idea, and when
did women rack in vain? They invented a style of exhibition which
produced an effect such as the world had not witnessed since the
Israelites emptied out Egypt. The war trump sounded: “Gillespie” was the
cry. Special orders 774 were promulgated, and that stupendous conception
THE PATENT LOAN OFFICE EXHIBITION
astonished and frightened the land.
[A LOAN--AND FROM HOME.]
Everything was to be borrowed; nothing bought and still less paid for.
The idea was attractive. A wide field was opened for feminine ingenuity.
Each aid immediately locked _her own_ umbrella carefully away, and
called upon her friends when the weather was cloudy.
[Illustration]
The Franciscan Monastery, on Rittenhouse Square, was the largest article
loaned to the Committee, they having declined the offer of a Frankford
brickyard; and in this building the exhibition was held. Three beautiful
gilded balls were extended from the attic window, and on them the
neighboring residents gazed in silent rapture. A great demand was
created for articles one hundred years old and upwards. Old pots, pans,
and dishes were suddenly endowed with incalculable value. We ourselves
worked industriously to produce relics. Our aforementioned relations _in
esse_ and _in posse_, acknowledged the loan of an old brick into which
we had pounded a new bullet, with a fervor which more than repaid our
disinterested patriotism. The sweet smile and kindly glance with which
they accepted a pair of old army breeches, which we had purchased for
seventy cents and riddled with augur holes, haunts us still. Nay, when
we attended the exhibition, and saw an old lady reverently kiss a yellow
handkerchief, which we had borrowed from an hostler of our acquaintance,
and labelled “Lafayette,” we retired to a side apartment and wept tears
of joy. We had afforded that old lady a gratifying reminiscence for the
remainder of her existence.
[GEORGE’S INDIVIDUAL CONTRIBUTION.]
The Washington family came out particularly strong. In a pavilion in the
garden, seventeen aged females were seated. They had nursed little
George in his baby days. With undisguised emotion they exhibited 21
cradles, 66 gum rings, 423 hatchets, and half a bottle of soothing
syrup, all of which, they asserted, had been the property of the father
of his country during his infantile years. They also possessed among
them an aggregate of 34,621 buttons, which they had purloined at
different times from the dear child’s vestment.
This was considered as George’s individual contribution.
The remainder of the family were not behindhand. They sent a few of
their plates, spoons, forks, ladles, etc.; not many, only about enough
to start a first-class hotel. As for family Bibles, they must have had a
sufficient quantity to have allowed each member of the family a new one
every day of the week and two on Sundays. There were chairs and sofas
enough to seat the entire continental army, and about five wagon loads
of miscellaneous furniture and chattels. Heavens, what an establishment
those Washingtons must have kept!
It would be useless to attempt an enumeration of the wonders on hand and
made to order for this occasion. Suffice it to say the ladies borrowed
everything they could borrow, and what they couldn’t borrow they--didn’t
have.
Two rooms were set apart for broken and unbroken china, which (again in
compliment to Mrs. Gillespie’s native tongue) were called _Bric a brac_
apartments.
The exhibition was open to the public for six weeks with a table _à la
carte_ in the dining-room. The net profit was close on to seventy-five
dollars.
And after all this work, after obtaining from them all these ducats,
what did the centennial magnates say to the ladies?
“Ladies,” said they, “we have taken your money; we have urged you to
labor; we have induced you, in the person of our special partner, to
travel to sister cities to persuade the daughters of our land to make a
proper exhibition of their importance and standing in this home of equal
rights; but, ah, unfortunately, we shall not be able to allow you any
space in our buildings; the old women of China, the aged females of
Timbuctoo claim it, and if you want to display that standing and
importance we have mentioned, why--ah--here are plans for a building;
take them, get up a side show for yourselves, pay for it yourselves, and
be--happy.”