Society as I Have Found It
powerful jets, sufficiently strong to give a brilliant illumination to
the ball-room. The only criticism possible was, that it made deep
shadows.
All Newport was present to give brilliancy to the scene. Everything was
to be European, so one supped at small tables as at a ball in Paris, all
through the night. Supper was ready at the opening of the ball, and also
as complete and as well served at the finish, by daylight. Newport had
never seen before, and has never since seen, anything as dazzling and
brilliant, as well conceived, and as well carried out, in every detail.
Desirous of obtaining an office from the administration of President
Arthur, I went to Washington with letters to the President and his
Attorney-General. On my arrival, depositing my luggage in my room at
Willard’s, I descended to the modest little barber-shop of that hotel,
and there, in the hands of a colored barber, I saw our distinguished
Secretary of State, the Hon. Frederick T. Frelinghuysen, who, on
catching sight of me, exclaimed:
“Halloa, my friend! what brings you here?” He had for years been my
lawyer in New Jersey.
I replied: “I want an office.”
“Well, what office?”
I told him what I wanted.
“I hope you do not expect me to get it for you!” he exclaimed.
“Not exactly,” I answered. “My man is the Attorney-General, and I want
you to tell me where I can find him.”
“Find him! why, that’s easy enough; there is not another such man in
Washington. Where do you dine?”
“Here in this house, at seven.”
“He dines here at the same hour. All you have to do is to look about you
then, and when you see an old-fashioned, courtly gentleman of the
Benjamin Franklin style, you will see Brewster,” said Mr. Frelinghuysen.
While quietly taking my soup, I saw an apparition! In walked a stately,
handsome woman, by her side an old-fashioned, courtly gentleman, in a
black velvet sack coat, ruffled shirt, and ruffled wristbands,
accompanied by a small boy, evidently their son. “There he is,” I said
to myself. Now, I make it a rule never to disturb any one until they
have taken off the edge of their appetite. I stealthily viewed the man
on whom my hopes hinged. Remarkable to look at he was. A thoroughly
well-dressed man, with the unmistakable air of a gentleman and a man of
culture. As he spoke he gesticulated, and even with his family, he
seemingly kept up the liveliest of conversations. No sooner had he
reached his coffee, than I reached him. In five minutes I was as much at
home with him as if I had known him for five years.
“Well, my dear sir,” he said, “what made you go first to Frelinghuysen?
Why did you not come at once to me? I know all about you; my friends are
your friends. I know what you want. The office you wish, I will see that
you get. Our good President will sanction what I do. The office is
yours. Say no more about it.” From that hour this glorious old man and
myself were sworn friends; I was here simply carrying out the axiom to
keep one’s friendships in repair; and, as he had done so much for me, I
resolved, in turn, to do all I could for him, and I know I made the
evening of his life, at least, one of pleasurable and quiet enjoyment.
He came to me that summer at Newport, and the life he there led among
fashionable people seemed to be a new awakening to him of cultivated and
refined enjoyment. He found himself among people there who appreciated
his well-stored mind and his great learning. He was the brightest and
best conversationalist I have ever met with. His memory was marvelous;
every little incident of everyday life would bring forth some poetical
illustrations from his mental storehouse.
At a large dinner I gave him, to which I had invited General Hancock and
one of the Judges of the Supreme Court of the United States, the
question of precedence presented itself. I sent in the Judge before the
General, and being criticised for this, I appealed to the General
himself. “In Washington,” he said, “I have been sent in to dinner on
many occasions before our Supreme Court Judges, and again on other
occasions they have preceded me. There is no fixed rule; but I am
inclined to think I have precedence.”
During this summer, a young friend of mine was so charmed with the
Attorney-General, that he advised with me about giving him an
exceptionally handsome entertainment. This idea took shape the following
winter, when he came and asked me to assist him in getting up for him a
superb banquet at Delmonico’s. He wanted the brilliant people of society
to be invited to it, and no pains or expense to be spared to make it the
affair of the winter. I felt that our distinguished citizen, the
ex-Secretary of State and ex-Governor, who had so long held political as
well as social power, and his wife, should be asked to preside over it,
and thus expressed myself to him, and was requested to ask them to do
so. I presented myself to this most affable and courtly lady in her
sunshiny drawing-room on Second Avenue, and proffered my request. She
graciously accepted the invitation, saying she well knew the gentleman
and his family as old New Yorkers; and to preside over a dinner given to
her old friend, Mr. Brewster, would really give her the greatest
pleasure.
Great care was taken in the selection of the guests. New York sent to
this feast the brilliant men and women of that day, and the feast was
worthy of them. The “I” table (shape of letter I) was literally a garden
of superb roses; a border of heartsease, the width of one’s hand,
encircled it, and was most artistic. Delmonico’s ball-room, where we
dined, had never been so elaborately decorated. The mural decorations
were superb; placques of lilies of the valley, of tulips, and of azaleas
adorned the walls; and the dinner itself was pronounced the best effort
of Delmonico’s _chefs_. What added much to the general effect was on
leaving the table for a short half-hour to find the same dining-room,
in that short space of time, converted into a brilliant ball-room, all
full of the guests of the Patriarchs, and a ball under full headway.
AN ERA OF EXTRAVAGANCE.
CHAPTER XXVI.
_New Era in New York Society--Extravagance of Living--Grand Fancy
Dress Ball in Fifth Avenue--I go as the Lover of Margaret de
Valois--A Great Journalist at Newport--A British Officer rides into
a Club House--The great Journalist’s masked Ball--A mysterious Blue
Domino--Breakfast at Southwick’s Grove to the Duke of
Beaufort--Picnic given President Arthur--His hearty Enjoyment of
it--Governor Morgan misjudges my “Open Air Lunches.”--The Pleasure
of Country Frolics._
We here reach a period when New York society turned over a new leaf. Up
to this time, for one to be worth a million of dollars was to be rated
as a man of fortune, but now, bygones must be bygones. New York’s ideas
as to values, when fortune was named, leaped boldly up to ten millions,
fifty millions, one hundred millions, and the necessities and luxuries
followed suit. One was no longer content with a dinner of a dozen or
more, to be served by a couple of servants. Fashion demanded that you be
received in the hall of the house in which you were to dine, by from
five to six servants, who, with the butler, were to serve the repast.
The butler, on such occasions, to do alone the head-work, and under him
he had these men in livery to serve the dinner, he to guide and direct
them. Soft strains of music were introduced between the courses, and in
some houses gold replaced silver in the way of plate, and everything
that skill and art could suggest was added to make the dinners not a
vulgar display, but a great gastronomic effort, evidencing the
possession by the host of both money and taste.
The butler from getting a salary of $40 a month received then from $60
to $75 a month. The second man jumped up from $20 to $35 and $40, and
the extra men, at the dinner of a dozen people or more, would cost $24.
Then the orchids, being the most costly of all flowers, were introduced
in profusion. The canvasback, that we could buy at $2.50 a pair, went
up to $8 a pair; the terrapin were $4 apiece. Our forefathers would have
been staggered at the cost of the hospitality of these days.
Lady Mandeville came over to us at this epoch, and at once a superb
fancy ball was announced by one of our fashionable rich men. Every
artist in the city was set to work to design novel costumes--to produce
something in the way of a fancy dress that would make its wearer live
ever after in history. Determining not to be outdone, I went to a fair
dowager, who was up in all things; asked for and followed her advice.
“Mapleson is your man. Put yourself in his hands,” said she; so off I
went to him, and there I found myself, not only in his hands, but under
the inspection of a fine pair of female eyes, who sat by his side and
essayed to prompt him as to what my dress should be.
“Why, man alive!” said she, “don’t you see he is a Huguenot all over,
an admirer of our sex. Put him in the guise of some woman’s lover.”
“By Jove, you are right, my fair songster!” said Mapleson. “I’ll make
him the lover of Marguerite de Valois, who was guillotined at thirty-six
because he loved ‘not wisely, but too well.’ Pray, what is your age?”
“Young enough, my dear sir, to suit your purpose. Go ahead, and make of
me what you will,” I replied.
“Have you a good pair of legs?”
“Aye, that I have! But at times they are a little groggy. Covering they
must have.”
“Ah, my boy, we will fix you. Buckskin will do your business. With
tights of white chamois and silk hose, you can defy cold.” So into the
business I went; and when my good friend the Attorney-General came into
my room, and saw two sturdy fellows on either side of me holding up a
pair of leather trunks, I on a step-ladder, one mass of powder,
descending into them, an operation consuming an hour, he exclaimed,
“Why, my good sir, your pride should be in your legs, not your head!”
“At present,” I said, “it certainly is.”
The six quadrilles were really the event of the ball, consisting of “The
Hobby-horse Quadrille,” the men who danced in it being dressed in
“pink,” and the ladies wearing red hunting-coats and white satin skirts,
all of the period of Louis XIV. In the “Mother Goose Quadrille” were
“Jack and Jill,” “Little Red Riding-Hood,” “Bo-Peep,” “Goody Two-Shoes,”
“Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary,” and “My Pretty Maid.” The “Opera Bouffe
Quadrille” was most successful; but of all of them, “The Star
Quadrille,” containing the youth and beauty of the city, was the most
brilliant. The ladies in it were arrayed as twin stars, in four
different colors, yellow, blue, mauve, and white. Above the forehead of
each lady, in her hair, was worn an electric light, giving a fairy and
elf-like appearance to each of them. “The Dresden Quadrille,” in which
the ladies wore white satin, with powdered hair, and the gentlemen white
satin knee breeches and powdered wigs, with the Dresden mark, crossed
swords, on each of them, was effective. The hostess appeared as a
Venetian Princess, with a superb jeweled peacock in her hair. The host
was the Duke de Guise for that evening. The host’s eldest brother wore a
costume of Louis XVI. His wife appeared as “The Electric Light,” in
white satin, trimmed with diamonds, and her head one blaze of diamonds.
The most remarkable costume, and one spoken of to this day, was that of
a cat; the dress being of cats’ tails and white cats’ heads, and a bell
with “Puss” on it in large letters. A distinguished beauty, dressed as a
Phœnix, adorned with diamonds and rubies, was superb, and the
Capuchin Monk, with hood and sandals, inimitable; but to name the most
striking would be to name all.
The great social revolution that had occurred in New York this winter,