Chapter 11

At night the scene is different, but still brilliant. The vehicles in the street consist almost entirely of carriages and omnibuses, each with its lamps of different colors. They go dancing down the long vista like so many fire-flies. The shop-windows are brightly lighted, and the monster hotels pour out a flood of radiance from their myriads of lamps. Here and there a brilliant reflector at the door of some theatre, sends its dazzling white rays streaming along the street for several blocks. Below Canal street Broadway is dark and silent, but above that point it is as bright as day, and fairly alive with people. Those who are out now are mostly bent on pleasure, and the street resounds with cheerful voices and merry laughter, over which occasionally rises a drunken howl. Strains of music or bursts of applause float out on the night air from places of amusement, not all of which are reputable. Here and there a crowd has collected to listen to the music and songs of some of the wandering minstrels with which the city abounds. Gaudily painted transparencies allure the unwary to the vile concert saloons in the cellars below the street. The restaurants and _cafes_ are ablaze with light, and are liberally patronized by the lovers of good living. Here and there, sometimes alone, and sometimes in couples, you see women, mainly young, and all flashily dressed, walking rapidly, with a peculiar gait, and glancing quickly but searchingly at every man they pass. You can single them out at a glance from the respectable women who happen to be out alone at this time. They are the "street walkers," seeking companions from among the passers-by. Some of them are mere children, and the heart aches to see the poor creatures at their fearful work. The police do not allow these women to stop and converse with men on Broadway, and when they find a companion they turn off promptly into a side street, and disappear with him in the darkness.

Towards eleven o'clock the theatres pour out their throngs of spectators, who come to swell the crowd on Broadway, and for a little while the noise and confusion are almost as great as in the day. Then the restaurants will close, and the street will gradually become deserted and dark, tenanted only by the giant policemen; and for a few hours the great city will be wrapped in silence and slumber.

VI. SOCIETY.

I. ANALYTICAL.

All the world over, poverty is a misfortune. In New York it is a crime. Here, as in no other place in the country, men struggle for wealth. They toil, they suffer privations, they plan and scheme, and execute with a persistency that often wins the success they covet. The chief effort of every man and woman in the great city is to secure wealth. Man is a social being--woman much more so--and here wealth is an absolute necessity to the enjoyment of social pleasures. Society here is organized upon a pecuniary basis, and stands not as it should upon the personal merits of those who compose it, but upon a pile of bank-books. In other cities, poor men, who are members of families which command respect for their talents or other admirable qualities, or who have merit of their own sufficient to entitle them to such recognition, are welcomed into what are called the "Select Circles" with as much cordiality as though they were millionaires. In New York, however, men and women are judged by their bank accounts. The most illiterate boor, the most unprincipled knave finds the door of fashion open to him, while St. Peter himself, if he came "without purse or scrip," would see it closed in his face.

Society in New York is made up of many elements, the principal of which it is proposed to examine, but, unfortunately, wealth is the one thing needful in most of the classes into which it is divided. Nor is this strange. The majority of fashionable people have never known any of the arts and refinements of civilization except those which mere wealth can purchase. Money raised them from the dregs of life, and they are firm believers in it. Without education, without social polish, they see themselves courted and fawned upon for their wealth, and they naturally suppose that there is nothing else "good under the sun."

Those who claim precedence base their demand upon their descent from the original Dutch settlers, and style themselves "the old Knickerbockers." The majority of these are very wealthy, and have inherited their fortunes from their ancestors. They are owners of valuable real estate, much of which is located in the very heart of the city. The incomes derived from such property are large and certain. They are frequently persons of cultivation, and were it not for their affectation of superiority, would, as a class, be decidedly clever people, even if many of them are stupid. They make an effort to have their surroundings as clumsy and as old-fashioned as possible, as a mark of their Dutch descent. They sport crests and coats of arms such as the simple old Dutchmen of New Amsterdam never dreamed of; and rely more upon the merits of their forefathers than upon their own. They are extremely exclusive, and rarely associate with any but those who can "show as pure a pedigree." Their disdain of those whose families are not as "old" as their own is oftentimes amusing, and subjects them to ridicule, which they bear with true Dutch stolidity. They improve in their peculiar qualities with each generation, and the present pompous Knickerbocker who drives in the Park in solemn state in his heavy chariot, and looks down with disdain upon all whose blood is not as Dutch as his own, is a very different personage from his great ancestor, the original Knickerbocker, who hawked fish about the streets of New Amsterdam, or tanned leather down in "the swamp."

[Picture: A FASHIONABLE PROMENADE ON FIFTH AVENUE.]

Strange to say, the Knickerbocker class receives fresh additions every year. Each new comer has a _Van_ to his name, and can show a string of portraits of yellow-faced worthies, in leather breeches, and ruffles, and wigs, which he points to with pride as his "ancestors." The statistician would be sorely perplexed in attempting to ascertain the number of Dutch settlers in New Amsterdam were he to trace back the pedigrees of the present Knickerbockers, for if the claims of the present generation be admitted, one of two things is sure--either the departed Dutchmen must have been more "numerous fathers" than they cared to admit at the time, or the original population has been underestimated.

The next in order are those who, while making no boast of family, are persons who have inherited large wealth from several generations of ancestors. Freed from the necessity of earning their livings, they have an abundance of leisure in which to cultivate the "small sweet courtesies of life." They are neither shoddyites nor snobs, and while there are many who do no credit to their class, they constitute one of the pleasantest portions of metropolitan society. They furnish some of the most agreeable men, and some of the most beautiful and charming women in the city. Their homes are elegant, and abound in evidences of the taste of their owners, who spend their money liberally in support of literature and the arts. Here are to be found some of the rarest works of European and American masters. Unfortunately this class of New Yorkers is not very large. It is destined to increase, however, with the growth of wealth in the city. Good men, who have begun where the forefathers of these people started, will constantly contribute their children to swell this class, in which will always be collected those who unite true merit to great wealth, those who are proud of their country and its institutions, contented with its customs, and possessed of too much good sense to try to add to their importance by a ridiculous assumption of "aristocratic birth," or a pitiful imitation of the manners of the great of other lands.

The third class may be said to consist of those who value culture and personal excellence above riches. There is not much individual wealth in this class, but its members may be regarded as "persons in comfortable circumstances." They are better educated, have more correct tastes, and do the most to give to New York society its best and most attractive features. It is a class to which merit is a sure passport. It is modest and unassuming, free from ostentatious parade, and, fortunately, is growing rapidly. It is made up of professional men of all kinds, clergymen, lawyers, poets, authors, physicians, painters, sculptors, journalists, scientific men, and actors, and their families. Its tone is vigorous and healthy, and it is sufficiently free from forms to make it independent, and possessed of means enough to enable it to pursue its objects without hindrance.

The remainder of those who constitute what is called society are the "New Rich," or as they are sometimes termed, the "Shoddyites." They constitute the majority of the fashionables, and their influence is felt in every department of domestic life. They are ridiculed by every satirist, yet they increase. Every year makes fresh accessions to their ranks, and their follies and extravagances multiply in proportion. They occupy the majority of the mansions in the fashionable streets, crowd the public thoroughfares and the Park with their costly and showy equipages, and flaunt their wealth so coarsely and offensively in the faces of their neighbors, that many good people have come to believe that riches and vulgarity are inseparable. They make themselves the most conspicuous, and are at once accepted by strangers as the "best society" of the metropolis.

They are almost without exception persons who have risen from the ranks. This is not to their discredit. On the contrary, every American is proud to boast that this is emphatically the land of self-made men, that here it is within the power of any one to rise as high in the social or political scale as his abilities will carry him. The persons to whom we refer, however, affect to despise this. They take no pride in the institutions which have been so beneficial to them, but look down with supreme disdain upon those who are working their way up. They are ashamed of their origin, and you cannot offend one of them more than to hint that you knew him a few years ago as a mechanic or a shopkeeper.

Some of the "fashionables" appear very unexpectedly before the world. But a short while ago a family may have been living in the humbler quarter of the city, or even in a tenement house. A sudden fortunate speculation on the part of the husband, or father, may have brought them enormous wealth in the course of a few days. A change is instantly made from the humble abode to a mansion on Fifth or Madison avenue. The newly acquired wealth is liberally expended in "fitting up," and the lucky possessors of it boldly burst upon the world of fashion as stars of the first magnitude. They are courted by all the newly rich, and invitations to the houses of other "stars" are showered upon them. They may be rude, ignorant, uncouth in manner, but they have wealth, and that is all that is required. They are lucky indeed, if they hold their positions long. A few manage to retain the wealth which comes to them thus suddenly, but as a rule those who are simply lucky at the outset, find Dame Fortune a very capricious goddess, and at the next turn of her wheel pass off the stage to make room for others who are soon to share the same fate.

During the oil speculations, and during the war, the shoddy class was largely increased by those who were made suddenly and unexpectedly rich by lucky ventures in petroleum lands and stocks, and by army contracts. Now other speculations provide recruits for this class, to which Wall street is constantly sending fresh "stars" to blaze awhile in the firmament of society, and then to make way for others. The shoddy element is not, however, confined to those who acquire wealth with rapidity or by speculations. There are many who rise very slowly and painfully in the world, who, when blessed with fortune, throw themselves headlong into the arms of "shoddy."

It is not difficult to recognize these persons. They dress not only handsomely, but magnificently, making up in display what they lack in taste. They cover themselves with jewels, and their diamonds, worn on ordinary occasions, might in some instances rival the state gems of European sovereigns. Their rough, hard hands, coarse faces, loud voices, bad English, and vulgar manners contrast strikingly with the splendors with which they surround themselves. They wear their honors uneasily, showing how little they are accustomed to such things. They look down with disdain upon all less fortunate in wealth than themselves, and worship as demi-gods those whose bank accounts are larger than their own. They are utterly lacking in personal dignity, and substitute for that quality a supercilious hauteur.

II. FASHIONABLE EXTRAVAGANCE.

Extravagance is the besetting sin of New York society. Money is absolutely thrown away. Fortunes are spent every year in dress and in all sorts of follies. Houses are fitted up and furnished in the most sumptuous style, the building and its contents being sometimes worth a million of dollars. People live up to every cent of their incomes, and often beyond them. It is no uncommon occurrence for a fine mansion, its furniture, pictures, and even the jewels of its occupants, to be pledged to some usurer for the means with which to carry on this life of luxury. Each person strives to outdo his or her acquaintances. Those who have studied the matter find no slight cause for alarm in the rapid spread of extravagance among all classes of the city people, for the evil is not confined to the wealthy. They might afford it, but people of moderate means, who cannot properly make such a heavy outlay, are among those most guilty of the fault.

In no other city of the land is there to be seen such magnificent dressing on the part of the ladies as in New York. The amount of money and time expended here on dress is amazing. There are two objects in view in all this--the best dressed woman at a ball or party is not only sure to outshine her sisters there present, but is certain to have the satisfaction next day of seeing her magnificence celebrated in some of the city journals. Her vanity and love of distinction are both gratified in this way, and such a triumph is held to be worth any expense. There is not an evening gathering but is graced by the presence of ladies clad in a style of magnificence which reminds one of the princesses in the fairy tales. Says a recent writer:

"It is almost impossible to estimate the number of dresses a very fashionable woman will have. Most women in society can afford to dress as it pleases them, since they have unlimited amounts of money at their disposal. Among females dress is the principal part of society. What would Madam Mountain be without her laces and diamonds, or Madam Blanche without her silks and satins? Simply commonplace old women, past their prime, destined to be wall-flowers. A fashionable woman has just as many new dresses as the different times she goes into society. The _elite_ do not wear the same dresses twice. If you can tell us how many receptions she has in a year, how many weddings she attends, how many balls she participates in, how many dinners she gives, how many parties she goes to, how many operas and theatres she patronizes, we can approximate somewhat to the size and cost of her wardrobe. It is not unreasonable to suppose that she has two new dresses of some sort for every day in the year, or 720. Now to purchase all these, to order them made, and to put them on afterward, consumes a vast amount of time. Indeed, the woman of society does little but don and doff dry-goods. For a few brief hours she flutters the latest tint and _mode_ in the glare of the gas-light, and then repeats the same operation the next night. She must have one or two velvet dresses which cannot cost less than $500 each; she must possess thousands of dollars' worth of laces, in the shape of flounces, to loop up over the skirts of dresses, as occasion shall require. Walking-dresses cost from $50 to $300; ball-dresses are frequently imported from Paris at a cost of from $500 to a $1000; while wedding-dresses may cost from $1000 to $5000. Nice white Llama jackets can be had for $60; _robes princesse_, or overskirts of lace, are worth from $60 to $200. Then there are travelling-dresses in black silk, in pongee, velour, in pique, which range in price from $75 to $175. Then there are evening robes in Swiss muslin, robes in linen for the garden and croquet-playing, dresses for horse-races and for yacht-races, _robes de nuit_ and _robes de chambre_, dresses for breakfast and for dinner, dresses for receptions and for parties, dresses for watering-places, and dresses for all possible occasions. A lady going to the Springs takes from twenty to sixty dresses, and fills an enormous number of Saratoga trunks. They are of every possible fabric--from Hindoo muslin, 'gaze de soie,' crape maretz, to the heavy silks of Lyons.

"We know the wife of the editor of one of the great morning newspapers of New York, now travelling in Europe, whose dress-making bill in one year was $10,000! What her dry-goods bill amounted to heaven and her husband only know. She was once stopping at a summer hotel, and such was her anxiety to always appear in a new dress that she would frequently come down to dinner with a dress basted together just strong enough to last while she disposed of a little turtle-soup, a little Charlotte de Russe, and a little ice cream.

"Mrs. Judge ---, of New York, is considered one of the 'queens of fashion.' She is a goodly-sized lady--not quite so tall as Miss Anna Swan, of Nova Scotia--and she has the happy faculty of piling more dry-goods upon her person than any other lady in the city; and what is more, she keeps on doing it. To give the reader a taste of her quality, it is only necessary to describe a dress she wore at the Dramatic Fund Ball, not many years ago. There was a rich blue satin skirt, _en train_. Over this there was looped up a magnificent brocade silk, white, with bouquets of flowers woven in all the natural colors. This overskirt was deeply flounced with costly white lace, caught up with bunches of feathers of bright colors. About her shoulders was thrown a fifteen-hundred dollar shawl. She had a head-dress of white ostrich feathers, white lace, gold pendants, and purple velvet. Add to all this a fan, a bouquet of rare flowers, a lace handkerchief, and jewelry almost beyond estimate, and you see Mrs. Judge --- as she appears when full blown.

"Mrs. General --- is a lady who goes into society a great deal. She has a new dress for every occasion. The following costume appeared at the Charity Ball, which is _the_ great ball of the year in New York. It was imported from Paris for the occasion, and was made of white satin, point lace, and a profusion of flowers. The skirt had heavy flutings of satin around the bottom, and the lace flounces were looped up at the sides with bands of the most beautiful pinks, roses, lilies, forget-me-nots, and other flowers.

"It is nothing uncommon to meet in New York society ladies who have on dry-goods and jewelry to the value of from thirty to fifty thousand dollars. Dress patterns of twilled satin, the ground pale green, pearl, melon color, or white, scattered with sprays of flowers in raised velvet, sell for $300 dollars each; violet poult de soie will sell for $12 dollars a yard; a figured moire will sell for $200 the pattern; a pearl-colored silk, trimmed with point applique lace, sells for $1000; and so we might go on to an almost indefinite length."

Those who think this an exaggerated picture have only to apply to the proprietor of any first-class city dry-goods store, and he will confirm its truthfulness. These gentlemen will tell you that while their sales of staple goods are heavy, they are proportionately lighter than the sales of articles of pure luxury. At Stewart's the average sales of silks, laces, velvets, shawls, gloves, furs, and embroideries is about $24,500 per diem. The sales of silks alone average about $15,000 per diem.

A few years ago the dwelling of a wealthy citizen of New York was consumed by fire. The owner of the mansion soon after applied to a prominent Insurance Company for the payment of the sum of $21,000, the amount of the risk they had taken on the wearing apparel of his daughter, a young lady well known in society for the splendor of her attire. The company refused to pay so large a sum, and protested that the lady in question could not have possessed so costly a wardrobe. Suit was brought by the claimant, and, as a matter of course, an enumeration of the articles destroyed and their value was made to the court. The list was as follows, and is interesting as showing the mysteries of a fashionable lady's wardrobe: