_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,
like most revolutionary waves, reached Newport. Our distinguished New
York journalist then made Newport his summer home, buying the fine
granite house that for years had been first known as “The Middleton
Mansion,” afterwards the “Sidney Brooks residence,” and filling it with
distinguished Europeans. His activity and energy gave new life to the
place.
One fine summer morning, one of his guests, an officer in the English
army, a bright spirit and admirable horseman, riding on his polo pony up
to the Newport Reading-room, where all the fossils of the place, the
nobs, and the swells daily gossiped, he was challenged to ride the pony
into the hall of this revered old club, and being bantered to do it, he
actually did ride the pony across the narrow piazza, and into the hall
of the club itself. This was enough to set Newport agog. What sacrilege!
an Englishman to ride in upon us, not respecting the sanctity of the
place! It aroused the old patriots, who were members of that
Institution, with the spirit of ’76, and a summary note was sent to the
great journalist, withdrawing the invitation the club had previously
given his guest. The latter, in turn, felt aggrieved, and retaliated
with this result: Building for Newport a superb Casino, embracing a
club, a ball-room, and a restaurant, opposite his own residence. All
this evidencing that agitation of any kind is as beneficial in social
circles, as to the atmosphere we breathe.
Then our journalist conceived and gave a handsome domino ball. All the
ladies in domino, much after the pattern of the one previously given by
the Duchess de Dino, and in many respects resembling it, having a huge
tent spread behind the house, and all the rooms on the first floor
converted into a series of charming supper-rooms, each table decorated
most elaborately with beautiful flowers; as handsome a ball as one
could give. I took the wife of the Attorney-General to it in domino,
who, after her life in Washington, was amazed at the beauty of the
scene. The grounds, which were very handsome, were all, even the plants
themselves, illuminated with electric lights--that is, streams of
electric light were cunningly thrown under the plants, giving an
illumination _à giorno_, and producing the most beautiful effect.
At this ball there appeared a Blue Domino that set all the men wild.
Coming to the ball in her own carriage (her servants she felt she could
trust not to betray her) she dashed into the merry throng, and gliding
from one to the other whispered airy nothings into men’s ears. But they
contained enough to excite the most intense curiosity as to who she was.
She was the belle of the evening; she became bold and daring at times,
attacking men of and about the inmost secrets of their hearts, so as to
alarm them, and when she had worked them all up to a fever heat, she
came to me to take her to the door that she might make good her escape.
A dozen men barricaded the way, but with the rapidity of a deer she
dashed through them, reached the sidewalk, and her footman literally
threw her into the carriage. Her coachman, well drilled, dashed off at a
furious rate, and to this day no one has ever found out who the fair
creature was.
The next social event after this grand ball was a large breakfast the
great journalist gave for the Duke of Beaufort, at Southwick’s Grove. We
all sat at tables under the trees, and we had what the French so aptly
term a _déjeuner dinatoire_. At it the Duke was most eloquent in his
wonderful description of a fishing exploit he had had that morning;
rising at 2 A.M., and driving to “Black Rock,” he groped his way to the
farthest point, and had the satisfaction of hooking an enormous bass.
In his own words, “As I saw him on the crest of the wave, I knew I had
him, and then my sport began.”
Hearing that President Arthur would visit Newport, as I felt greatly in
his debt I resolved to do my share in making his visit pleasant and
agreeable. He was to be the guest of Governor Morgan, whom I at once
buttonholed and to him gave the above views. I found, like all these
great political magnates, that he preferred to have the President to
himself, and rather threw cold water on my attempting anything in my
humble way at entertaining him. “Why, my dear sir,” he replied, “the
President will not go to one of your country picnics. It is preposterous
to think of getting up such a rural thing for him. I shall, of course,
dine him and give him a fête, and have already sent to New York for my
Madeira.”
“Sent for your Madeira!” I exclaimed. “Why, my dear Governor, it will
not be fit to drink when it reaches you.”
“Why not?” he asked.
“Because it will be so shaken up, it will be like tasting bad drugs.
Madeira of any age, if once moved, cannot be tasted until it has had at
least a month’s repose. President Arthur is a good judge of Madeira, and
he would not drink your wine.”
“Well, what am I to do?” said he.
“Why, my dear Governor, I will myself carry to your house for him a
couple of bottles of my very best Madeira.” This I did, sitting in the
middle of the carriage, one bottle in each hand (it having been first
carefully decanted), and into the Governor’s parlor I was ushered, and
then placed my offering before the President, telling him that I well
knew he loved women, as well as song and wine; prayed him to honor me
with his presence at a Newport picnic, promising to cull a bouquet of
such exotics as are only grown in a Newport hothouse. The invitation he
at once accepted, much, I thought, to the chagrin of the Governor, who,
accompanying me to his front door, said:
“My dear sir, one must remember that he is the President of the United
States, ruling over sixty millions of people. He is here as my guest,
and now to go off and dine on Sunday with a leader of fashion, and then
to follow this up by attending one of your open-air lunches, seems to me
not right.” (I must here say in his defense, that the Governor had never
been to one of my “open-air lunches,” and knew not of what he spoke.)
I then resolved to make this picnic worthy of our great ruler, and at
once invited to it a beautiful woman, one who might have been selected
for a Madonna. This is the first time I have made mention of her; she
possessed that richness of nature you only see in Southern climes; one
of the most beautiful women in America. She promised to go to this
country party, and bring her court with her.
I selected the loveliest spot on Newport Island, known as “The Balch
Place,” near “The Paradise and Purgatory Rocks,” for this fête. The
Atlantic Ocean, calm and unruffled, lay before us; all the noise it made
was the gentle ripple of the waves as they kissed the rocky shore.
Giving the President our great beauty, he led the way to the collation,
partaken of at little tables under the sparse trees that the rough
winter barely permitted to live, and then we had a merry dance on the
green, on an excellent platform fringed with plants.
At a subsequent breakfast, I was intensely gratified to have the
President say to me, before the whole company, “McAllister, you did
indeed redeem your promise. The beauty of the women at your picnic, the
beauty of the place, and its admirable arrangement--made it the
pleasantest party I have had at Newport,”--and this was said before my
friend the Governor. Grand, elaborate entertainments are ofttimes not as
enjoyable as country frolics.
WASHINGTON DINNERS AND NEW YORK BALLS.