Society as I Have Found It
the dishes, their cost in money was insignificant. We would pay
twenty-five dollars for the farm or grove to which we went for the day.
Twenty-five dollars for the country band, as much for the hire of
silver, linen, crockery, etc., and ten dollars for a horse, wagon and
man to take everything out, making the entire outlay in money on each
occasion eighty-five to a hundred dollars. A picnic dinner and dance at
my farm, furnishing everything myself, no outside contributions, for
fifty or sixty people, would cost me then three hundred dollars,
everything included. What a difference to the present time! I got up one
of these country dances and luncheons summer before last at my farm,
where, under a pretty grove of trees, I had built a dancing platform
from which you can throw a biscuit into the beautiful waters of
Narragansett Bay. Lending the farm to the party, every one bringing a
dish, hiring the servants and music, cost us in money eight hundred and
six dollars and eighty-four cents. There were 140 people present. The
railroad running through the farm, the train stopped on the place itself
within a few rods of the group of trees. Leaving Newport at 2 P.M., in
six minutes we are on the place, and at a quarter of five the train
returned to us, thus ridding ourselves of coachmen and grooms, finding
them all at the railway station when we reached Newport on our return at
5 P.M., to take us for our usual afternoon drive.
But to return to the past. When Newport was in its glory, and outshone
itself, the young men of that day resolved to give me a lesson in
picnic-giving. What they had done well in and about New York, they felt
they could do equally well in Newport, so they sent to the city for
Delmonico with all his staff, and invited all Newport to a dance and
country dinner at a large teahouse some six miles from Newport,
adjoining Oaklands, the then Gibbs farm, later on the property of Mr.
August Belmont, and now belonging to Mr. Cornelius Vanderbilt, being his
model farm, one of the loveliest spots on Newport Island. Delmonico took
possession of this huge barrack of a house, and to work his waiters went
to arrange in the large, old dining-room his beautiful collation, which
was all brought from New York. The entire party were dancing the
cotillion in the front parlor of the house, and grouped on its front
piazzas. As 5 P.M. approached, an irresistible desire, an inward craving
for food, became apparent. Committeemen were beset with the question,
when are we going to have the collation? They rushed off to hurry up
things, and then one by one reappeared with blanched faces, and an
unmistakable anxious, troubled look. Finally they came to me with, “My
dear fellow, what is to be done? Come and see for yourself.” Dragging
me into the dining-room and pantries of the hotel I there indeed saw a
sight to behold. All the coachmen and grooms had made a foray on the
abundant supplies, tumbled Delmonico’s French waiters into the cellar of
the hotel, and locked them up; then, taking possession of the
dining-room, held high carnival. Every mouthful of solid food was eaten
up, and all the champagne drunk; the ices, jellies, and confectionery
they left untouched. As I viewed the scene, I recalled Virgil’s
description of a wreck, “_Apparent rari in gurgite nantes_.” Every
coachman and groom was intoxicated, and, as the whole party at once took
flight to secure dinner at home, the scene on the road beggared
description. The coachmen swayed to and fro like the pendulum of a
clock; the postilions of the _demi d’Aumonts_ hung on by the manes of
their horses, when they lost their equilibrium. The women, as usual,
behaved admirably. As one said to me, “My man is beastly intoxicated,
but I shall appear not to notice it. The horses are gentle, they will go
of themselves.” My old friend, the Major, at once held a council of war,
and it was suggested that all turn in and thrash the fellows soundly,
but prudence dictated that at that work man was as good as master, that
the result might be doubtful; so all dolefully got away in the best
manner possible. The Major thus harangued his old family coachman:
“Richard, I am astonished at you; the other men’s rascally conduct does
not surprise me, but you, an old family servant, to so disgrace
yourself, shocks me.” The reply was, “I own up, Major, but indade, I am
a weak craythur.”
SOCIAL UNITY.
CHAPTER XVI.
_Grand Banquet to a Bride-elect--She sat in a bank of Roses with
Fountains playing around her--An Anecdote of Almack’s--The way the
Duke of Wellington introduced my Father and Dominick Lynch to the
Swells--I determine to have an American Almacks’--The way the
“Patriarchs’” was founded--The One-man Power Abolished--Success of
the Organization._
The two young women of the most distinguished bearing in my day in this
country were, in my opinion, the one the daughter of our ex-Secretary of
State and ex-Governor, the other the daughter of my friend, the Major.
They both looked as born of noble race, and were always, when they
appeared, the centre of attraction. When the engagement of the Major’s
daughter was announced, one of her admirers asked me to go with him to
Charles Delmonico, as he was desirous of giving this fair lady a
Banquet, to commemorate the initial step she had taken in woman’s
career. In the words of the poet, she was then
“A thought matured, but not uttered,
A conception warm and glowing, not yet embodied.”
Now, all was to expand into noble womanhood, and she must needs put away
childish things and bid a sweet farewell to all who had worshipped at
her shrine. This worshipper wanted to make this an occasion in her life,
as well as his; so with Delmonico’s genius we were to conceive a banquet
for this fair maid, at which, like a Queen of May, she was to sit in a
bower of roses. And this she literally did, placed there by her host, a
scion of one of New York’s oldest families, whose family was interwoven
with the Livingstons, and by marriage closely connected with the great
Robert Fulton. It was the first of these lavish and gorgeous
entertainments, known as Banquets. Fifty-eight guests dining in
Delmonico’s large ball-room; the immense oval table filling the whole
room, and covered with masses of exquisite flowers. There were three
fountains, one in the centre, and the others at each end of the table,
throwing up a gentle spray of water, but always so planned that nothing
on the table in any way impeded the sight; one from all sides of it
could see over these beautiful flower-beds and through the spray. A
cotillion followed the dinner, and then back all returned to the
dining-room and supped as the early dawn crept on us.
Close association at a small watering-place naturally produces jars.
People cannot always agree. When you become very rich and powerful, and
people pay you court, it follows in many cases that you become exacting
and domineering. It soon became evident that people of moderate means,
who had no social power to boast of, must needs be set aside and crowded
out if the one-man power, or even the united power of two or three
colossally rich men, controlled society. One reflected that that would
not work. The homage we pay to a society leader must come from the
esteem and admiration which is felt for him, but must not be exacted or
forced. It occurred then to me, that if one in any way got out with the
powers that be, his position might become critical, and he so forced out
of the way as to really lose his social footing. Where then was the
remedy for all this? How avoid this contingency? On reflection I reached
this conclusion, that in a country like ours there was always strength
in union; that to blend together the solid, respectable element of any
community for any project, was to create a power that would carry to
success almost any enterprise; therefore, returning to New York for the
winter, I looked around society and invoked the aid of the then quiet
representative men of this city, to help me form an association for the
purpose of giving our winter balls.
As a child, I had often listened with great interest to my father’s
account of his visit to London, with Dominick Lynch, the greatest swell
and beau that New York had ever known. He would describe his going with
this friend to Almack’s, finding themselves in a brilliant assemblage
of people, knowing no one, and no one deigning to notice them; Lynch,
turning to my father, exclaimed: “Well, my friend, geese indeed were we
to thrust ourselves in here where we are evidently not wanted.” He had
hardly finished the sentence, when the Duke of Wellington (to whom they
had brought letters, and who had sent them tickets to Almack’s) entered,
looked around, and, seeing them, at once approached them, took each by
the arm, and walked them twice up and down the room; then, pleading an
engagement, said “good-night” and left. Their countenances fell as he
rapidly left the room, but the door had barely closed on him, when all
crowded around them, and in a few minutes they were presented to every
one of note, and had a charming evening. He described to us how Almack’s
originated,--all by the banding together of powerful women of influence
for the purpose of getting up these balls, and in this way making them
the greatest social events of London society.
Remembering all this, I resolved in 1872 to establish in New York an
American Almack’s, taking men instead of women, being careful to select
only the leading representative men of the city, who had the right to
create and lead society. I knew all would depend upon our making a
proper selection.
There is one rule in life I invariably carry out--never to rely wholly
on my own judgment, but to get the advice of others, weigh it well and
satisfy myself of its correctness, and then act on it. I went in this
city to those who could make the best analysis of men; who knew their
past as well as their present, and could foresee their future. In this
way, I made up an Executive Committee of three gentlemen, who daily met
at my house, and we went to work in earnest to make a list of those we
should ask to join in the undertaking. One of this Committee, a very
bright, clever man, hit upon the name of Patriarchs for the
Association, which was at once adopted, and then, after some discussion,
we limited the number of Patriarchs to twenty-five, and that each
Patriarch, for his subscription, should have the right of inviting to
each ball four ladies and five gentlemen, including himself and family;
that all distinguished strangers, up to fifty, should be asked; and then
established the rules governing the giving of these balls--all of which,
with some slight modifications, have been carried out to the letter to
this day. The following gentlemen were then asked to become
“Patriarchs,” and at once joined the little band:
JOHN JACOB ASTOR,
WILLIAM ASTOR,
DE LANCEY KANE,
WARD MCALLISTER,
GEORGE HENRY WARREN,
EUGENE A. LIVINGSTON,
WILLIAM BUTLER DUNCAN,
E. TEMPLETON SNELLING,
LEWIS COLFORD JONES,
JOHN W. HAMERSLEY,
BENJAMIN S. WELLES,
FREDERICK SHELDON,
ROYAL PHELPS,
EDWIN A. POST,
A. GRACIE KING,
LEWIS M. RUTHERFORD,
ROBERT G. REMSEN,
WM. C. SCHERMERHORN,
FRANCIS R. RIVES,
MATURIN LIVINGSTON,
ALEX. VAN RENSSELAER,
WALTER LANGDON,
F. G. D’HAUTEVILLE,
C. C. GOODHUE,
WILLIAM R. TRAVERS.
The object we had in view was to make these balls thoroughly
representative; to embrace the old Colonial New Yorkers, our adopted
citizens, and men whose ability and integrity had won the esteem of the
community, and who formed an important element in society. We wanted the
money power, but not in any way to be controlled by it. Patriarchs were