Society as I Have Found It
Meeting John Van Buren as I left the cars in Jersey City to cross the
ferry to New York, he insisted on my dining with him that day at the
Union Club, to meet Lord Hartington, and his brother, Lord Edward
Cavendish, to whom he was giving a large dinner. I declined, as I had no
dress-suit in the city, but he would not take no for an answer.
“My dear man,” he said, “it will be an event in your life to meet these
distinguished men. Jump in the first train, return to your country home,
and get your dress-coat. By all means you must not miss my dinner.” As
I knew Lord Frederick Cavendish so well, I really wanted to meet his
brothers, and as no one could send me my spike-tail coat as they call it
at the South, I took a way train and consumed the entire day getting the
necessary outfit, and returning with it to the city. To compensate me
for my day’s work, Van Buren put me next to Lord Hartington. Chatting
with him, I asked him what he had seen in our habits, manners, and
speech that struck him as odd. At first he avoided making any criticism,
but finally he laughingly replied, “The way you all have of saying ‘Yes,
sir,’ or ‘No, sir.’ We never do this in England; it is used thus only by
servants.” James Brady, a great chum of our host’s, being at the dinner,
kept up an incessant fire at Van Buren, who retaliated with, “My dear
Lord Hartington, pay no attention to what my friend Brady says; all I
can say of him is that he is a man who passes one half his time in
defending criminals and the other half in assailing patriots, such as
myself.” I was well repaid for all the trouble I had taken to attend
this dinner.
At this time there were not more than one or two men in New York who
spent, in living and entertaining, over sixty thousand dollars a year.
There were not half a dozen _chefs_ in private families in this city.
Compare those days to these, and see how easily one or two men of
fortune could then control, lead, and carry on society, receive or shut
out people at their pleasure. If distinguished strangers failed to bring
letters to them, they were shut out from everything. Again, if, though
charming people, others were not in accord with those powers, they could
be passed over and left out of society. All this many of us saw, and saw
how it worked, and we resolved to band together the respectable element
of the city, and by this union make such strength that no individual
could withstand us. The motto, we felt, must be _nous nous soutenons_.
This motto we then assumed, and we hold it to this day, and have found
that the good and wise men of this community could always control
society. This they have done and are still doing. Our first step then in
carrying out these views was to arrange for a series of “cotillion
dinners.”
I must here explain, that behind what I call the “smart set” in society,
there always stood the old, solid, substantial, and respected people.
Families who held great social power as far back as the birth of this
country, who were looked up to by society, and who always could, when
they so wished, come forward and exercise their power, when, for one
reason or another, they would take no active part, joining in it
quietly, but not conspicuously. Ordinarily, they preferred, like the
gods, to sit upon Olympus. I remember a lady, the head of one of these
families, stating to me that she had lived longer in New York society
than any other person. This point, however, was not yielded or allowed
to go undisputed, for the daughter of a rival house contended that
_her_ family had been longer in New York society than any other family,
and though she had heard the assertion, as I gave it, she would not
admit its correctness. What I intend to convey is that the heads of
these families, feeling secure in their position, knowing that they had
great power when they chose to exercise it, took no leading part in
society’s daily routine. They gave handsome dinners, and perhaps, once a
year, a fine ball. I know of one or two families who have scrupulously
all their lives avoided display, anything that could make fashionable
people of them, holding their own, esteemed and respected, and when they
threw open their doors to society, all made a rush to enter. To this
day, if one of these old families, even one of its remotest branches,
gives a day reception, you will find the street in which they live
blockaded with equipages.
For years we have literally had but one _salon_ in this city--a
gathering in the evening of all the brilliant and cultivated people,
both young and old, embracing the distinguished strangers. A most
polished and cultivated Bostonian, a brilliant woman, was the first, in
my day, to receive in this way weekly. During her life she held this
_salon_, both here, and all through the summer in Newport. “The robe of
Elijah fell upon Elisha” in an extremely talented woman of the world,
who has most successfully held, and now holds, this _salon_, on the
first day of every week during the winter, and at Newport in summer.
The mistake made by the world at large is that fashionable people are
selfish, frivolous, and indifferent to the welfare of their
fellow-creatures; all of which is a popular error, arising simply from a
want of knowledge of the true state of things. The elegancies of
fashionable life nourish and benefit art and artists; they cause the
expenditure of money and its distribution; and they really prevent our
people and country from settling down into a humdrum rut and becoming
merely a money-making and money-saving people, with nothing to brighten
up and enliven life; they foster all the fine arts; but for fashion what
would become of them? They bring to the front merit of every kind; seek
it in the remotest corners, where it modestly shrinks from observation,
and force it into notice; adorn their houses with works of art, and
themselves with all the taste and novelty they can find in any quarter
of the globe, calling forth talent and ingenuity. Fashionable people
cultivate and refine themselves, for fashion demands this of them.
Progress is fashion’s watchword; it never stands still; it always
advances, it values and appreciates beauty in woman and talent and
genius in man. It is certainly always most charitable; it surrounds
itself with the elegancies of life; it soars, it never crawls. I know
the general belief is that all fashionable people are hollow and
heartless. My experience is quite the contrary. I have found as warm,
sympathetic, loving hearts in the garb of fashion as out of it. A
thorough acquaintance with the world enables them to distinguish the
wheat from the chaff, so that all the good work they do is done with
knowledge and effect. The world could not dispense with it. Fashion
selects its own votaries. You will see certain members of a family born
to it, as it were, others of the same family with none of its
attributes. You can give no explanation of this; “One is taken, the
other left.” Such and such a man or woman are cited as having been
always fashionable. The talent of and for society develops itself just
as does the talent for art.
COTILLIONS IN DOORS AND OUT.
CHAPTER XIII.
_Cost of Cotillion Dinners--My delicate Position--The Début of a
Beautiful Blonde--Lord Roseberry’s mot--We have better Madeira than
England--I am dubbed “The Autocrat of Drawing-rooms”--A Grand
Domino Ball--Cruel Trick of a fair Mask--An English Lady’s Maid
takes a Bath--The first Cotillion Dinners given at
Newport--Out-of-Door Feasting--Dancing in the Barn._
But to return to our Cotillion Dinners. A friend thought they were
impracticable on account of the expense, but I had remembered talking to
the proprietor of the famous Restaurant Phillipe in Paris, as to the
cost of a dinner, he assuring me that its cost depended entirely on what
he called _les primeurs_, i.e. things out of season, and said that he
could give me, for a napoleon a head, an excellent dinner, if I would
leave out _les primeurs_. Including them, the same dinner would cost
three napoleons. “I can give you, for instance,” he said, “a _filet de
bœuf aux ceps_ at half the cost of a _filet aux truffes_, and so on,
through the dinner, can reduce the expense.” Submitting all this to my
friend Delmonico, I suggested a similar inexpensive dinner, and figured
the whole expense down until I reduced the cost of a cotillion dinner
for seventy-five or a hundred people to ten dollars each person, music
and every expense included. Calling on my friends, they seconded me, and
we then had a winter of successful cotillion dinners. It was no easy
task, however. How I was beset by the men to give them the women of
their choice to take in to dinner! and in turn by the ladies not to
inflict on them an uncongenial partner. The largest of these dinners,
consisting of over a hundred people, we gave at Delmonico’s, corner of
Fifth Avenue and Fourteenth Street, in the large ball-room. The table
was in the shape of a horseshoe. I stood at the door of the _salon_,
naming to each man the lady he was to take in to dinner, and well
remember one of them positively refusing to accept and take in a lady
assigned to him; and she, just entering, heard the dispute, and, in
consequence, would never again attend one of these dinners. Sitting at
the head of the table, with the two young and beautiful women who were
then the _grandes dames_ of that time, one on either side of me, we had
opposite to us, on the other side of the narrow, horseshoe table, a
young blonde bride, who had just entered society. I well remember the
criticisms these grand ladies made of and about her. The one, turning to
me, said, “And this is your lovely blonde, the handsomest blonde in
America!” The other, the best judge of her sex that I have ever seen,
then cast her horoscope, saying, “I consider her as beautiful a blonde
as I have ever seen. That woman, be assured, will have a brilliant
career. Such women are rare.” These words were prophetic, for that
beautiful bride, crossing the ocean in her husband’s yacht, wholly and
solely by her beauty gained for her husband and herself a brilliant
position in London society. Turning to me, the lady who had made this
remark asked me how she herself looked. I replied, “Like Venus rising
from the sea.” My serenity was here disturbed by finding that one of the
ladies, disliking her next neighbor, as soon as she discovered by the
card who it was, had quietly made an exchange of cards, depriving a
young gallant of the seat he most coveted, and for which he had long and
earnestly prayed. Of course, I was called to explain, and quiet the
disturbed waters. The gentleman was furious, and threatened dire
destruction to the culprit. I took in the situation, and protected the
fair lady by sacrificing the waiter. After the ladies left the table, at
these dinners, the gentlemen were given time to smoke a cigar and take
their coffee. On this occasion, the Earl of Roseberry was a guest.
Whilst smoking and commenting on the dinner, he said to me, “You
Americans have made a mistake; your emblematic bird should have been a
canvasback, not an eagle.”
It was either to this distinguished man or the Earl of Cork, at one of
these after-dinner conversations, that I held forth on the treatment of
venison, asserting that here, we always serve the _saddle_ of venison,
whilst in England they give the _haunch_. And when they send it off to a
friend, they box it up in a long narrow box, much resembling a coffin.
The reason for this was given me,--that their dinners were larger than
ours, and there was not enough on a saddle for an English dinner. Again,
I called attention to the fact that here we eat the tenderloin steak,
there they eat the rump steak, which we give to our servants. The reason