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, 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.
##