Society as I Have Found It

man,” is an old proverb. These they certainly must possess. There is no society in the world as generous as New York society is; “friend, parent, neighbor, all it will embrace,” but once embraced they must have the power of sustaining themselves. The best quality for them to possess is modesty in asserting their claims; letting people seek them rather than attempting to rush too quickly to the front. The Prince of Wales, on a charming American young woman expressing her surprise at the cordial reception given her by London society, replied, “My dear lady, there are certain people who are bound to come to the front and stay there; you are one of them.” It requires not only money, but brains, and, above all, infinite tact; possessing the three, your success is assured. If taken by the hand by a person in society you are at once led into the charmed circle, and then your own correct perceptions of what should or should not be done must do the rest. As a philosophical friend once said to me, “A gentleman can always walk, but he cannot afford to have a shabby equipage.” Another philosopher soliloquized as follows: “The first evidence of wealth is your equipage.” By the way, his definition of aristocracy in America was, the possession of hereditary wealth. If you want to be fashionable, be always in the company of fashionable people. As an old beau suggested to me, If you see a fossil of a man, shabbily dressed, relying solely on his pedigree, dating back to time immemorial, who has the aspirations of a duke and the fortunes of a footman, do not cut him; it is better to cross the street and avoid meeting him. It is well to be in with the nobs who are born to their position, but the support of the swells is more advantageous, for society is sustained and carried on by the swells, the nobs looking quietly on and accepting the position, feeling they are there by divine right; but they do not make fashionable society, or carry it on. A nob can be a swell if he chooses, i.e. if he will spend the money; but for his social existence this is unnecessary. A nob is like a poet,--_nascitur non fit_; not so a swell,--he creates himself. The value of a pleasant manner it is impossible to estimate. It is like sunshine, it gladdens; you feel it and are at once attracted to the person without knowing why. When you entertain, do it in an easy, natural way, as if it was an everyday occurrence, not the event of your life; but do it well. Learn how to do it; never be ashamed to learn. The American people have a _greater_ power of “catching hold,” and adapting themselves to new surroundings than any other people in the world. A distinguished diplomatist once said to me, “The best wife for a Diplomat is an American; for take her to any quarter of the globe and she adapts herself to the place and people.” If women should cultivate pleasant manners, should not men do the same? Are not manners as important to men as to women? The word “gentleman” may have its derivation from gentle descent, but my understanding of a gentleman has always been that he is a person free from arrogance, and anything like self-assertion; considerate of the feelings of others; so satisfied and secure in his own position, that he is always unpretentious, feeling he could not do an ungentlemanly act; as courteous and kind in manner to his inferiors as to his equals. The best bred men I have ever met have always been the least pretentious. Natural and simple in manner, modest in apparel, never wearing anything too _voyant_, or conspicuous; but always so well dressed that you could never discover what made them so,--the good, quiet taste of the whole producing the result. Here, all men are more or less in business. We hardly have a class who are not. They are, of necessity, daily brought in contact with all sorts and conditions of men, and in self-defense oftentimes have to acquire and adopt an abrupt, a brusque manner of address, which, as a rule, they generally leave in their offices when they quit them. If they do not, they certainly should. When such rough manners become by practice a second nature, they unfit one to go into society. It pays well for young and old to cultivate politeness and courtesy. Nothing is gained by trying roughly to elbow yourself into society, and push your way through into the inner circle; for when such a one has reached it, he will find its atmosphere uncongenial and be only too glad to escape from it. A short time ago, a handsome, well-dressed Englishman, well up in all matters pertaining to society, went with me to my tailor to see me try on a dress coat. I was struck with his criticisms. Standing before a glass, he said, “You must never be able to see the tails of your dress coat; if you do, discard the coat.” Again, he advised one’s always wearing a hat that was the fashion, losing sight of the becoming, but always following the fashion. “At a glance,” he said, “I can tell a man from the provinces, simply by his hat.” If you are stout, never wear a white waistcoat, or a conspicuous watch-chain. Never call attention by them to what you should try to conceal. In going to the opera, if you go to an opera box with ladies, you should wear white or light French gray gloves. Otherwise, gloves are not worn. A _boutonnière_ of white hyacinths or white pinks on dress coats is much worn, both to balls and the opera. My English friend was very much struck with the fact that American women all sat on the left side of the carriage, the opposite side from what they do in England. “Ladies,” he said, “should always sit behind their coachman, but the desire to see and be seen prompts them here to take the other side. In this city some half a dozen ladies show their knowledge of conventionalities and take the proper seat.” I think the great secret of life is to be contented with the position to which it has pleased God to call you. Living myself in a modest, though comfortable little house in Twenty-first Street in this city, a Wall Street banker honored me with a visit, and exclaimed against my surroundings. “What!” said he, “are you contented to live in this modest little house? Why, man, this will never do! The first thing you must have is a fine house. I will see that you get it. All that you have to do is to let me buy ten thousand shares of stock for you at the opening of the Board; by three I can sell it, and I will then send you a check for the profit of the transaction, which will not be less than ten thousand dollars! Do it for you? Of course I will, with pleasure. You will run no risk; if there is a loss I will bear it.” I thanked my friend, assured him I was wholly and absolutely contented, and must respectfully decline his offer. A similar offer was made to me by my old friend, Commodore Vanderbilt, in his house in Washington Place. I was a great admirer of this grand old man, and he was very fond of me. He had taken me over his stables, and was then showing me his parlors and statuary, and kept all the time calling me “his boy.” I turned to him and said, “Commodore, you will be as great a railroad king, as you were once an ocean king, and as you call me your boy, why don’t you make my fortune?” He thought a moment, and then said, slapping me on the back, “Mc, sell everything you have and put it in Harlem stock; it is now twenty-four; you will make more money than you will know how to take care of.” If I had followed his advice, I would now have been indeed a millionaire. One word more here about the Commodore. He then turned to me and said, “Mc, look at that bust,”--a bust of himself, by Powers. “What do you think Powers said of that head?” “What did he say?” I replied. “He said, ‘It is a finer head than Webster’s!’” ENTERTAINING. CHAPTER XIX. _Success in Entertaining--The Art of Dinner-giving--Selection of Guests--A happy Mixture of Young Women and Dowagers--The latter more Appreciative of the Good Things--Interviewing the Chef--“Uncle Sam” Ward’s Plan--Mock Turtle Soup a Delusion and a Snare--The Two Styles of cooking Terrapin--Grasshopper-fed Turkeys--Sourbet should not be flavored with Rum--Nesselrode the best of all the Ices._ “We may live without love,--what is passion but pining? But where is the man who can live without dining?”-- Owen Meredith. The first object to be aimed at is to make your dinners so charming and agreeable that invitations to them are eagerly sought for, and to let all feel that it is a great privilege to dine at your house, where they are sure they will meet only those whom they wish to meet. You cannot instruct people by a book how to entertain, though Aristotle is said to have applied _his_ talents to a compilation of a code of laws for the table. Success in entertaining is accomplished by magnetism and tact, which combined constitute social genius. It is the ladder to social success. If successfully done, it naturally creates jealousy. I have known a family who for years outdid every one in giving exquisite dinners--(this was when this city was a small community)--driven to Europe and passing the rest of their days there on finding a neighbor outdoing them. I myself once lost a charming friend by giving a better soup than he did. His wife rushed home from my house, and in despair, throwing up her hands to her husband, exclaimed, “Oh! what a soup!” I related this to my cousin, the distinguished _gourmet_, who laughingly said: “Why did you not at once invite them to pork and beans?” The highest cultivation in social manners enables a person to conceal from the world his real feelings. He can go through any annoyance as if it were a pleasure; go to a rival’s house as if to a dear friend’s; “Smile and smile, yet murder while he smiles.” A great compliment once paid me in Newport was the speech of an old public waiter, who had grown gray in the service, when to a _confrère_ he exclaimed: “In this house, my friend, you meet none but quality.” In planning a dinner the question is not to whom you owe dinners, but who is most desirable. The success of the dinner depends as much upon the company as the cook. Discordant elements--people invited alphabetically, or to pay off debts--are fatal. Of course, I speak of ladies’ dinners. And here, great tact must be used in bringing together young womanhood and the dowagers. A dinner wholly made up of young people is generally stupid. You require the experienced woman of the world, who has at her fingers’ ends the history of past, present, and future. Critical, scandalous, with keen and ready wit, appreciating the dinner and wine at their worth. Ladies in beautiful toilets are necessary to the elegance of a dinner, as a most exquisitely arranged table is only a solemn affair surrounded by black coats. I make it a rule never to attend such dismal feasts, listening to prepared witticisms and “twice-told tales.” So much for your guests. The next step is an interview with your _chef_, if you have one, or _cordon bleu_, whom you must arouse to fever heat by working on his ambition and vanity. You must impress upon him that this particular dinner will give him fame and lead to fortune. My distinguished cousin, who enjoyed the reputation of being one of the most finished _gourmets_ in this country, when he reached this point, would bury his head in his hands and (seemingly to the _chef_) rack his brain seeking inspiration, fearing lest the fatal mistake should occur of letting two white or brown sauces follow each other in succession; or truffles appear twice in that dinner. The distress that his countenance wore as he repeatedly looked up at the _chef_, as if for advice and assistance, would have its