Society’s Leaders—A Lady whose Dinners were Exquisite and whose Wines were Perfect—Her “Blue Room Parties”—Two Colonial Beauties—The Introduction of the Chef—The Prince of Wales in New York—The Ball in his Honor at the Academy of Music—The Fall of the Dancing Platform—Grotesque Figures cut by the Dancers—The Prince Dances Well—Admirable Supper Arrangements—A Light Tea and a Big Appetite—The Prince at West Point—I get a Snub from General Scott.
Society must have its leader or leaders. It has always had them, and will continue to have them. Their sway is more or less absolute. When I came to New York as a boy, forty years ago, there were two ladies who were skillful leaders and whose ability and social power the fashionable world acknowledged. They gave the handsomest balls and dinners given in this city, and had at them all the brilliant people of that period. Their suppers, given by old Peter Van Dyke, were famous. Living in two adjoining houses which communicated, they had superb rooms for entertaining. These were the days when Isaac Brown, sexton of Grace Church, was, in his line, a great character. His memory was something remarkable. He knew all and everything about everybody, knew always every one’s residence, was good-nature itself, and cracked his jokes and had a word for every one who passed into the ball-room. You would hear him sotto voce remarking upon men as they passed: “Old family, good old stock,” or “He’s a new man; he had better mind his p’s and q’s, or I will trip him up. Ah, here’s a fellow who intends to dance his way into society. Here comes a handsome boy, the women are crazy about him,” etc.
A year or two later, during my absence in Europe and at the South, a lady living in Washington Place found herself filling a very conspicuous place in the matter of social entertainment by the departure of her husband’s relatives, who had been society’s leaders, for a prolonged stay in Europe. A woman of charming manners, possessing eminently the talent of social leadership, she took up and easily carried on society as represented by the “smart” set. For from six to seven years she gave brilliant entertainments; her dinners were exquisite; her wines perfect; her husband’s Madeiras are still famous. At that time, her small dances were most carefully chosen; they were the acme of exclusiveness. On this she prided herself. She also arranged and controlled for two years (the winters of 1870 and 1871) small subscription balls at Delmonico’s, Fourteenth Street, in his “blue rooms.” They were confined to the young men and maidens, with the exception, perhaps, of a dozen of the young married couples; a few elderly married ladies were invited as matrons. These dances were known and became famous as the “Blue Room parties.” There were three hundred subscribers to them. Having a large fortune, she was able to gratify her taste in entertaining. Her manners were charming, and she was a most pleasing conversationalist. Her brother-in-law was one of the founders of the Patriarchs, and at a later period her two sons-in-law also joined them, though the younger of the two, the husband of her accomplished and beautiful daughter, has lived abroad for many years, but is still numbered among the brilliant members of our society. It was during the winter of 1871 that a ball was given in these same rooms to Prince Arthur, when on his visit here. On this occasion, the Prince danced with the daughter of my old friend, the Major, who, in air and distinction, was unrivaled in this country.
About this time two beautiful, brilliant women came to the front. They were both descended from old Colonial families. They had beauty and wealth, and were eminently fitted to lead society. A new era then came in; old fashions passed away, new ones replaced them. The French chef then literally, for the first time, made his appearance, and artistic dinners replaced the old-fashioned, solid repasts of the earlier period. We imported European habits and customs rapidly. Women were not satisfied with their old modistes, but must needs send to Paris for everything. The husband of one of these ladies had a great taste for society, and also a great knowledge of all relating to it. His delight was to see his beautiful young wife worshipped by everybody, which she was, and she soon became, in every sense, the prominent leader. All admired her, and we, the young men of that period, loved her as much as we dared. All did homage to her, and certainly she was deserving of it, for she had every charm, and never seemed to over-appreciate herself, or recognize that as Nature had lavished so much on her, and man had laid wealth at her feet, she was, in every sense, society’s queen. She was a woman sans aucune prétention. When you entered her house, her reassuring smile, her exquisitely gracious and unpretending manner of receiving, placed you at your ease and made you feel welcome. She had the power that all women should strive to obtain, the power of attaching men to her, and keeping them attached; calling forth a loyalty of devotion such as one imagines one yields to a sovereign, whose subjects are only too happy to be subjects. In the way of entertaining, the husband stood alone. He had a handsome house and a beautiful picture gallery (which served as his ball-room), the best chef in the city, and entertained royally.
I well remember being asked by a member of my family, “Why are you so eager to go to this leader’s house?” My reply always was, “Because I enjoy such refined and cultivated entertainments. It improves and elevates one.” From him, I literally took my first lesson in the art of giving good dinners. I heard his criticisms, and well remember asking old Monnot, the keeper of the New York Hotel:
“Who do you think has the best cook in this city?”
“Why, of course, the husband of your leader of fashion, for the simple reason that he makes his cook give him a good dinner every day.”
Just at this time all New York aroused, and put on their holiday attire at the coming of the Prince of Wales. A grand ball at the Academy of Music was given him. Our best people, the smart set, the slow set, all sets, took a hand in it, and the endeavor was to make it so brilliant and beautiful that it would always be remembered by those present as one of the events of their lives.
My invitation to the ball read as follows:
THE GENERAL COMMITTEE OF ARRANGEMENTS