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.”

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 élite 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 piqué, 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 appliqué 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:

6 silk robes—red, enamelled, green, blue, yellow, pink, black—with fringes, ruches, velvets, lace trimmings, etc. $950

1 blue Marie Louise gros-de-Naples, brocaded with silver taken from the looms of Lyons; cost, without a stitch in it 300

Silver bullion fringe tassels and real lace to match 200

1 rose-colored satin, brocaded in white velvet, with deep flounce of real blonde lace, half-yard wide; sleeves and bertha richly trimmed with the same rose-colored satin ribbon; satin on each side, with silk cord and tassel; lined throughout body, skirt and sleeves with white silk $400

1 white satin of exceedingly rich quality, trimmed with blonde and bugles; two flounces of very deep point d’Alençon, sleeves of the same, reaching down to the elbows, and bertha to match, with white bugles and blonde to match 2500

1 royal blue satin dress, trimmed, apron-shape, with black Brussels lace and gold and bugle trimmings, with one flounce, going all around the skirt, of black Brussels lace; body and sleeves to match; sleeves looped up with blue velvet roses set in lace, to imitate a bouquet 1500

1 dove-colored satin dress, trimmed with velvet, half-yard deep; a long trail with the velvet going all around, with llama fringe and dove-colored acorns, forming a heading to the velvet, and going all up the skirt and around the long Greek sleeves; the sleeves lined with white satin and quills of silver ribbon going around the throat; lined throughout with white silk, having belonging to it a cloak and hood, lined and trimmed to match; made in Paris 425

1 black Mantua velvet robe, long train, sleeves hanging down as far as the knees, open, lined with white satin, and trimmed all round with seed-pearls, as well as all round the top of low body—the seed-pearls forming clusters of leaves going down front of skirt and all round the skirt and train 500

1 rich moire-antique dress, embroidered in gold from the body to the skirt and sleeves and all round, taken up and fastened up with gold embroidery to imitate the folds and wrinkles of the dress, trimmed round the edge with white Brussels lace, having an underskirt of amber satin trimmed with Brussels lace, to show underneath; lined throughout with silk 400

1 large Brussels shawl, of exquisite fineness and elegance of design, to go with it 700

1 crimson velvet dress, lined throughout with rose-colored silk; train very long, trimmed with rich silk, blonde lace covering the entire train, being carried around and brought up the front of the dress and body, forming the bertha; and sleeves looped up with white roses; turquoise fan and slippers to match 400

1 blue mercantique (lined), low body, trimmed with Honiton lace, body and sleeves; one piece of silk to match, unmade, intended for high body, and bons; sleeves slashed open and lined with white satin 200

1 rose-colored robe, with flounces; high and low body, having fringe and trimming woven to imitate Russian fur; both bodies trimmed with fringe ribbons and narrow lace $250

1 mauve-colored glacé silk, braided and bugled all around the bottom of skirt, on the front of body, around the band of Garibaldi body, down the sleeves and round the cuffs of Garibaldi body; the low body, with bertha deeply braided and bugled, with sleeves to match; long sash, with end and bows and belts, all richly braided and bugled with thread lace 180

1 vraie couleur de rose gros-de-Naples, with flounces richly brocaded with bouquet in natural size and color, made to represent the same in panels, trimmed with gimp and fringe to match; also, high and low body, with bertha and trimmings to match 300

1 pink morning robe, very superb, trimmed down the side with white satin a quarter of a yard wide, sleeves trimmed to match, satin-stitched, with flounces in pink silk on edge of satin, passementerie cord and tassels 250

1 gold-colored silk aersphane, with three skirts, each skirt trimmed with quillings of yellow satin ribbon, looped up with pink roses: body to match, trimmed with silk blonde; white blonde round the neck; satin quillings; silk blonde on the sleeves, and lace and yellow satin; rich underskirt to match 100

2 very richly embroidered French cambric morning-dresses, with bullion and heavy satin ribbons running through; one lined throughout with pink, the other with blue silk 100

1 rich black silk glacé, trimmed with bugles and black velvet 200

1 blue-black Irish silk poplin, made in Gabrielle style, trimmed with scarlet velvet all round the skirt; sleeves and body-belt and buckle to match 125

1 Cashmere, shawl pattern, morning-dress, lined; sleeves and flies lined with red silk, cord and tassels to match; not twice on 100

1 white Swiss muslin, with double skirt and ribbon running through the upper and lower hems of each skirt, of pink satin; body with Greek sleeves to match 90

1 straw-colored silk dress, trimmed with black velvet, and body of the same 80

1 white Swiss muslin robe, with one plain skirt and one above, graduated by larger and smaller tucks to imitate three flounces; the sleeves with puffs, and long sleeves with tucks, down and across to match skirts, and Garibaldi body made to match; one pink satin under-body to go with it 95

1 white Swiss muslin dress, with three flounces, quilled and tucked, graduated one above the other, with headings of lace on the top of each flounce; low body, with tuck, bretelles and broad colored sarsnet ribbon 90

1 India muslin dress, very full, embroidered to imitate three flounces; and Greek body and sleeves, also embroidered to match sky-blue skirt and body to go underneath $110

1 India muslin dress, double skirt, richly embroidered, with high jacket and long sleeves embroidered to match 90

1 pink satin skirt and bodice, to go underneath 25

1 white long morning dress, embroidered round the skirt and up the front, in two flounces, one hanging over the other; sleeves and cuffs to match 60

1 white muslin, with white spots, skirt and bodice trimmed with bullion and narrow real Valenciennes lace 80

2 white cambric morning-dresses, one very richly embroidered, in wheels and flounces; and jacket to match 275

1 white Swiss muslin jacket, very richly embroidered; skirt and bodice to match 100

3 cambric tight-fitting jackets, with collar and sleeves very richly embroidered, to imitate old Spanish point 120

5 Marie Antoinettes, made entirely of French muslin, with triple bullion and double face; pink satin ribbon running through. Cost $60 each 300

1 piqué morning dress and jacket, richly embroidered 75

1 piqué skirt, richly embroidered 50

6 fine Swiss muslin skirts, four yards in each, trimmed with two rows of real lace, to set in full, finely finished 55

2 very rich bastistes, for morning-dresses 120

2 very fine cambric skirts, delicately embroidered, to wear with open morning-dresses 60

2 fine linen skirts, embroidered in open work 40

2 silk grenadine dresses, trimmed with Maltese lace and velvet; two bodices to match, blue and green 200

2 silk baréges, trimmed with velvet and fringe, and bodice to match 200

1 Scotch catlin silk full dress, Stewart, trimmed with black velvet and fringe, made to match colors of dress 100

3 Balmoral skirts, very elegant, embroidered in silk 90

1 ponceau silk dress, trimmed with llama fringe and gold balls; body and sleeves very richly trimmed to match 250

1 blue silk to match, trimmed with steel fringe and bugles; body and sleeves richly trimmed 250

1 French muslin jacket, with lapels and sleeves to turn back, very heavily embroidered 40

1 set point d’Alençon, consisting of shirt sleeves, handkerchief, and collar 120

1 point d’Alençon extra large handkerchief 100

1 set Honiton lace, consisting of handkerchief, collar, and sleeves $80

1 set Maltese lace, consisting of handkerchief, collar, velvet cape 300

1 set Irish point lace, very rich, consisting of wide, deep sleeves, handkerchief and collar 80

1 cape of ditto, going up to the neck and shut at the back 35

2 black lace mantillas 40

1 black lace jacket 15

1 cape, composed of Valenciennes lace 75

2 dozen very rich embroidered cambric chemises, with lace 120

6 ditto, with puffed bullions in front 100

18 Irish linen chemises, with very rich fronts 200

7 Irish linen, embroidered 40

1 dozen night-dresses, very rich fronts 216

3 linen ditto, very rich 75

1 dozen embroidered drawers 72

2 very rich ditto 50

11 new pairs silk stockings, in box 40

1 dozen Lisle thread stockings 20

9 pairs boots and shoes 45

3 pairs embroidered slippers, very rich, in gold 40

1 pair Irish point lace sleeves (extra) 30

1 black velvet embroidered mantilla, imported 450

1 ditto, silk, embroidered with bugles, imported 100

1 glacé silk, tight-fitting basque, with black zeplore lace cape; trimmed in every width with narrow lace to match 65

1 black silk Arab, with two tassels 25

1 dust-wrapper, from Cashmere 18

4 magnificent opera-cloaks 175

1 red scarlet cloth cloak, trimmed with yellow cord 12

1 cloth, drab-color cloak 8

1 cloak, with hood lined with silk 10

2 dozen cambric, embroidered, with name Fanny 24

1 set Russian sable muffs, cape and boa 100

1 tortoise shell comb, made in one piece and very rich 50

6 fancy combs 30

1 very rich mother-of-pearl, gold inlaid, and vol. feathers beautifully painted by hand 85

1 fan of mother-of pearl, inlaid in gold, with silk and white and Job’s spangles 45

1 blue mother-of-pearl, with looking-glass; imitation ruby and emeralds 35

6 other fans, of various kinds 25

1 parasol, all ivory handle throughout, engraved with name in full, covering of silk and Irish point lace, very fine, covering the entire parasol 100

Several other parasols $25

1 real gold head-ornament, representing the comet and eclipse appearing 100

About twenty hair-nets, silver, gold, and all colors and pearls 40

4 ladies’ bonnets, some exceedingly elegant 100

1 box marabout feathers, for dressing the hair 50

1 box artificial flowers l5

1 lot new ribbon, for sashes; velvet, silk, and satin 35

1 small miniature model piano, played by mechanism, from Vienna 50

1 lady’s writing-desk, inlaid with tortoise-shell and mother-of-pearl, lined with silk velvet, with compartments and secretary; carved mother-of-pearl paper-knife, gold seal, gold pencil, case full of fancy writing paper; made in Paris 200

1 bula work-box, elegant; inlaid with silver and lined with ci-satin, fitted with gold thimble, needle, scissors, pen-knife, gold bodkin, cotton winders; outside to match French piano 125

1 long knitting-case to match the above, fitted with needles, beads and silk of every description 40

1 papier-maché work-box, and fitted up 5

1 morocco work-bag, ornamented with bright steel; fitted up with scissors, thimble, etc 3

1 lady’s Russia leather shopping-bag, with silver and gilt clasps for chain and key 15

1 18-karat gold filigree card-case 20

1 set gold whist-markers, in hands on little box, a present unto her 50

1 lady’s small work-bag, silk fittings 5

1 solid silver porte-monnaie 19

1 little blue porte-monnaie; velvet, and cords and tassel 3

1 ladies’ companion, with fixings in silver; a present 45

1 hair-pin stand; a small book-case, with small drawers and mirror 14

1 basket of mother-of-pearl, and gilt and red satin, full of wax-flowers 35

1 elegant Bible in gilt, edge mounted in gold 30

43 volumes various miniature books, bound most elegantly in morocco, and brought as a present from Europe 100

1 silver pin-cushion and sewer for fastening on the table 23

1 elegant, richly carved ivory work-table, brought from Mexico, inside fitted up with silk and different compartments, standing three feet high 400

1 lady’s solid silver rutler, from Mexico 25

1 gilt head-ornament, representing a dagger 3

1 lady’s English dressing-case, solid silver fittings, English make and stamp, rosewood, bound with brass and gilt, fitted and lined with silver $250

1 pair rich carved ivory hair brushes, engraved with name and crest 155

1 ditto engraved and crest 55

1 small ivory hair-brush 12

1 ebony hair-brush, inlaid with mother-of-pearl 20

1 Berlin-wool worked cushion 50

1 sewing-chair, elegantly embroidered seat and back 75

1 Berlin-wool Affghan 100

1 fire-screen, Berlin work, beads, representing Charles II. hunting 125

1 large sole-leather trunk, about four feet long and three feet deep, lined with red morocco, handsomely ornamented in gold, embossed on the red morocco, with seven compartments; very scientifically constructed for the necessities of a lady’s wardrobe, with springs to hold open each compartment; and the lace compartment could, at pleasure, be rested on two steel legs, covered with gilt embossed morocco, representing a writing table, with a portfolio, containing writing materials; it had two large French patent locks 250

1 lady’s travelling trunk, with cover, containing a quantity of worn dresses, zouave cloth and gold, druided jacket cloaks, woollen ditto, opera cloak, etc 73

Total $21,000

Such lavish expenditure is a natural consequence of a state of society where wealth is the main distinction. Mrs. John Smith’s position as a leader of the ton is due exclusively to her great riches and her elaborate displays. Mrs. Richard Roe will naturally try to outshine her, and thus rise above her in the social scale. Many persons seeking admission into such society, and finding wealth the only requisite, will make any sacrifice to accomplish their end. If they have not wealth they will affect to have it. They could not counterfeit good birth, or high breeding, but they can assume the appearance of being wealthy. They can conduct themselves, for a while at least, in a manner utterly disproportioned to their means, and so they go on, until their funds and credit being exhausted, they are forced to drop out of the circles in which they have moved, and the so-called friends who valued them only for their supposed wealth, instantly forget that they ever knew them. No more invitations are left for them, they are not even tolerated in “good society,” and are “cut” on the street as a matter of course.

Not a year passes but records the failure of some prominent business man in New York. His friends are sorry for him, and admit that he was prudent and industrious in his business. “His family did it,” they tell you, shaking their heads. “They lived too fast. Took too much money to run the house, to dress, and to keep up in society.” Only the All Seeing Eye can tell how many men who stand well in the mercantile community are tortured continually by the thought that their extravagance or that of their families is bringing them to sure and certain ruin; for not even in New York can a man live beyond his actual means. They have not the moral courage to live within their legitimate incomes. To do so would be to lose their positions in society, and they go on straining every nerve to meet the demands upon them, and then the crash comes, and they are ruined.

Those who dwell in the great city, and watch its ways with observant eyes, see many evils directly attributable to the sin of extravagance. These evils are not entirely of a pecuniary nature. There are others of a more terrible character. Keen observers see every day women whose husbands and fathers are in receipt of limited incomes, dressing as if their means were unlimited. All this magnificence is not purchased out of the lawful income of the husband or father. The excess is made up in other ways—often by the sacrifice of the woman’s virtue. She finds a man willing to pay liberally for her favors, and carries on an intrigue with him, keeping her confiding husband in ignorance of it all the while. She may have more than one lover—perhaps a dozen. When a woman sins from motives such as these, she does not stop to count the cost. Her sole object is to get money, and she gets it. It is this class of nominally virtuous married and unmarried women that support the infamous houses of assignation to be found in the city.

The curse of extravagance does not manifest itself in dress alone. One cannot enter the residence of a single well-to-do person in the city without seeing evidences of it. The house is loaded with the richest and rarest of articles, all intended for show, and which are oftentimes arranged without the least regard to taste. The object is to make the house indicate as much wealth on the part of its owner as possible. It makes but little difference whether the articles are worth what was paid for them, or whether they are arranged artistically—if the sum total is great, the owner is satisfied. It is a common thing to see the walls of some elegant mansion disfigured with frescoes, which, though executed at an enormous cost, are utterly without merit or taste. Again one sees dozens of paintings, bought for works of the old masters, lining the walls of the richest mansions of the city, which are the merest daubs, and the works of the most unscrupulous Bohemians. Not long since, a collection of paintings was offered for sale in New York, the owner being dead. They had been collected at great expense, and were the pride of their former owner. With a few exceptions they were wretched copies, and in the whole lot, over five hundred in number, there were not six genuine “old masters,” or “masters” of any age.

Entertainments are given in the most costly style. From ten to twenty thousand dollars are spent in a single evening in this way. At a fashionable party from twelve to fifteen hundred dollars’ worth of champagne is consumed, besides other wines and liquors. Breakfasts are given at a cost of from one to three thousand dollars; suppers at a still higher cost. This represents the expense to the host of the entertainment; but does not cover the cost of the toilettes to be provided for the family, which make up several thousand dollars more.

Suppers or dinners are favorite entertainments, and the outlay required for them is oftentimes very heavy. The host frequently provides nothing but viands imported from foreign lands. Sets of china of great cost, or of silver equally expensive, or even of gold, are displayed ostentatiously. Sometimes the supper-room is entirely refitted in red, blue, or gold, everything, even the lights and flowers, being of one color, in order that the affair may be known as Mrs. A---’s red, blue, or gold supper. Some of the most extravagant entertainers will place at the side of each cover an exquisite bouquet inside of which is a costly present of jewelry.

All this reckless expenditure in the midst of so much sorrow and suffering in the great city! “The bitter cold of winter,” says the Manager of the ‘Children’s Aid Society,’ in his appeal for help, “and the freezing storms have come upon thousands of the poor children of this city, unprepared. They are sleeping in boxes, or skulking in doorways, or shivering in cellars without proper clothing, or shoes, and but half-fed. Many come bare-footed through the snow to our industrial schools. Children have been known to fall fainting on the floor of these schools through want of food. Hundreds enter our lodging-houses every night, who have no home. Hundreds apply to our office for a place in the country, who are ragged, half-starved, and utterly unbefriended.”

III. FASHIONABLE FOLLIES.

We have spoken of the women of fashion. What shall we say of the men? They are neither refined nor intellectual. They have a certain shrewdness coupled, perhaps, with the capacity for making money. Their conversation is coarse, ignorant, and sometimes indecent. They have not the tact which enables women to adapt themselves at once to their surroundings, and they enjoy their splendors with an awkwardness which they seek to hide beneath an air of worldly wisdom. They patronize the drama liberally, but their preference is for what Olive Logan calls “the leg business.” In person they are coarse-looking. Without taste of their own, they are totally dependent upon their tailors for their “style,” and are nearly all gotten up on the same model. They are capital hands at staring ladies out of countenance, and are masters of all the arts of insolence. Society cannot make gentlemen out of them do what it will. As John Hibbs would say, “they were not brought up to it young.” They learn to love excitement, and finding even the reckless whirl of fashion too stale for them, seek gratification out of their own homes. They become constant visitors at the great gaming-houses, and are the best customers of the bagnios of the city.

If men have their dissipations, the women have theirs also. Your fashionable woman generally displays more tact than her husband. She has greater opportunities for display, and makes better use of them. If the ball, or party, or sociable at her residence is a success, the credit is hers exclusively, for the husband does little more than pay the bills. Many of these women are “from the ranks.” They have risen with their husbands, and are coarse and vulgar in appearance, and without refinement. But the women of fashion are not all vulgar or unrefined. Few of them are well educated, but the New York woman of fashion, as a rule, is not only very attractive in appearance, but capable of creating a decided impression upon the society in which she moves. She is thoroughly mistress of all its arts, she knows just when and where to exercise them to the best advantage, she dresses in a style the magnificence of which is indescribable, and she has tact enough to carry her through any situation. Yet, in judging her, one must view her as a butterfly, as a mere creature of magnificence and frivolity. Don’t seek to analyze her character as a wife or mother. You may find that the marriage vow is broken on her part as well as on her husband’s; and you will most probably find that she has sacrificed her soul to the demands of fashion, and “prevented the increase of her family” by staining her hands in the blood of her unborn children. Or, if she be guiltless of this crime, she is a mother in but one sense—that of bearing children. Fashion does not allow her to nurse them. She cannot give to her own flesh and blood the time demanded of her by her “duties in society;” so from their very birth the little innocents are committed to the care of hirelings, and they grow up without her care, removed from the ennobling effect of a mother’s constant watchful presence, and they add to the number of idle, dissolute men and women of fashion, who are a curse to the city.

Your fashionable woman is all art. She is indeed “fearfully and wonderfully made.” She is a compound frequently of false hair, false teeth, padding of various kinds, paint, powder and enamel. Her face is “touched up,” or painted and lined by a professional adorner of women, and she utterly destroys the health of her skin by her foolish use of cosmetics. A prominent Broadway dealer in such articles sells thirteen varieties of powder for the skin, eight kinds of paste, and twenty-three different washes. Every physical defect is skilfully remedied by “artists;” each of whom has his specialty. So common has the habit of resorting to these things become, that it is hard to say whether the average woman of fashion is a work of nature or a work of art. Men marry such women with a kind of “taking the chances” feeling, and if they get a natural woman think themselves lucky.

IV. FASHIONABLE CHILDREN.

As it is the custom in fashionable society in New York to prevent the increase of families, it is natural no doubt to try to destroy childhood in those who are permitted to see the light.

The fashionable child of New York is made a miniature man or woman at the earliest possible period of its life. It does not need much labor, however, to develop “Young America” in the great metropolis. He is generally ready to go out into the world at a very tender age. Our system of society offers him every facility in his downward career. When but a child he has his own latch-key; he can come and go when he pleases; he attends parties, balls, dancing-school, the theatre and other evening amusements as regularly and independently as his elders, and is rarely called upon by “the Governor,” as he patronizingly terms his father, to give any account of himself. He has an abundance of pocket-money, and is encouraged in the lavish expenditure of it. He cultivates all the vices of his grown-up friends; and thinks church going a punishment and religion a bore. He engages in his dissipations with a recklessness that makes old sinners envious of his “nerve.” His friends are hardly such as he could introduce into his home. He is a famous “hunter of the tiger,” and laughs at his losses. He has a mistress, or perhaps several; sneers at marriage, and gives it as his opinion that there is not a virtuous woman in the land. When he is fairly of age he has lost his freshness, and is tired of life. His great object now is to render his existence supportable.

Girls are forced into womanhood by fashion even more rapidly than boys into manhood. They are dressed in the most expensive manner from their infancy, and without much regard to their health. Bare arms and necks, and short skirts are the rule, even in the bleakest weather, for children’s parties, or for dancing-school, and so the tender frames of the little ones are subjected to an exposure that often sows the seeds of consumption and other disease. The first thing the child learns is that it is its duty to be pretty—to look its best. It is taught to value dress and show as the great necessities of existence, and is trained in the most extravagant habits. As the girl advances towards maidenhood, she is forced forward, and made to look as much like a woman as possible. Her education is cared for after a fashion, but amounts to very little. She learns to play a little on some musical instrument, to sing a little, to paint a little—in short she acquires but a smattering of everything she undertakes. She is left in ignorance of the real duties of a woman’s life—the higher and nobler part of her existence. She marries young, and one of her own set, and her married life is in keeping with her girlhood. She is a creature in which nothing has been fully developed but the passions and the nerves. Her physical constitution amounts to nothing, and soon gives way. Her beauty goes with her health, and she is forced to resort to all manner of devices to preserve her attractions.

It is a habit in New York to allow children to give large entertainments at fashionable resorts, without the restraining presence of their elders. Here crowds of boys and girls of a susceptible age assemble under the intoxicating influence of music, gas-light, full dress, late suppers, wines and liquors. Sometimes this juvenile dissipation has been carried so far that it has been sharply rebuked by the public press.

V. A FASHIONABLE BELLE.

An English writer gives the following clever sketch of a fashionable young lady of New York, whom he offers as a type of the “Girl of the Period:”

“Permit me to present you to Miss Flora Van Duysen Briggs. Forget Shakspeare’s dictum about a name; there is a story attached to this name which I shall tell you by and by. Miss Flora is a typical New York girl of the period; between sixteen and seventeen years old; a little under the medium height; hair a golden brown; eyes a violet blue; cheeks and lips rosy; teeth whiter and brighter than pearls; hands and feet extremely small and well-shaped; figure petite but exquisitely proportioned; toilette in the latest mode de Paris; but observe, above all, that marvellous bloom upon her face, which American girls share with the butterfly, the rose, the peach and the grape, and in which they are unequalled by any other women in the world.

“Miss Flora’s biography is by no means singular. Her father is Ezra Briggs, Esq., a provision merchant in the city. Twenty-five years ago, Mr. Briggs came to New York from one the Eastern States, with a common-school education, sharp sense, and no money. He borrowed a newspaper, found an advertisement for a light porter, applied for and obtained the situation, rose to be clerk, head-clerk, and small partner, and fagged along very comfortably until the Civil War broke out, and made his fortune. His firm secured a government contract, for which they paid dearly, and for which they made the Government pay dearer. Their pork was bought for a song, and sold for its weight in greenbacks. Their profits averaged 300 per cent. They were more fatal to the soldiers than the bullets of the enemy. One consignment of their provisions bred a cholera at Fortress Monroe, and robbed the Union of 15,000 brave men. Their enemies declared that the final defeat of the Southerners was owing to the capture of 1000 barrels of Briggs’s mess beef by General Lee. But Briggs was rolling in wealth, and could afford to smile at such taunts.

“Flora’s mother had been a Miss Van Duysen. She was a little, weak, useless woman, very proud of her name, which seemed to connect her in some way with the old Dutch aristocracy. In point of fact, Briggs married her on this account; for, like most democrats, he is very fond of anything aristocratic. Mrs. Briggs, née Van Duysen, has nothing Dutch about her but her name. The Knickerbockers of New York were famous for their thrift, their economy, their neatness, and, above all, their housewifely virtues. Mrs. Briggs is thriftless, extravagant, dowdy in her old age, although she had been a beauty in her youth, and knows as little about keeping a house as she does about keeping a horse. During the war, at a fair given for the benefit of the Sanitary Commission, in Union Square, several Knickerbocker ladies organized a kitchen upon the old Dutch model, and presided there in the costumes of their grandmothers. Mrs. Briggs was placed upon the committee of management, but declined to serve, on account of the unbecoming costume she was invited to wear, and because she considered it unladylike to sit in a kitchen. But Mrs. Briggs preserved her caste, and benefited the Sanitary Commission much more than she would have done by her presence, by sending a cheque for $500 instead.

“Do we linger too long upon these family matters? No; to appreciate Miss Flora, you must understand her surroundings. She has never had a home. Born in a boarding-house, when her parents were not rich, she lives at a hotel now that her father is a millionaire. Mr. Briggs married the name of Van Duysen, in order to get into society. Miss Van Duysen married Briggs’s money, in order to spend it. Miss Flora Van Duysen Briggs combines her mother’s name and her father’s money; her Mother’s early beauty and her father’s shrewdness; her mother’s extravagance and her father’s weakness for the aristocracy. She has good taste, as her toilette shows; but she does not believe that anything can be tasteful that is not expensive. Her aim is to run ahead of the fashions, instead of following them; but she is clever enough to so adapt them to her face and figure, that she always looks well-dressed, and yet always attracts attention. Her little handsome head is full of native wit, and of nothing else. Her education has been shamefully neglected. She has had the best masters, who have taught her nothing. Like all other American girls, she plays on the piano, but does not play the piano—you will please notice this subtle but suggestive distinction. She has picked up a smattering of French, partly because it is a fashionable accomplishment, and partly because she intends to marry; but I will not yet break your heart by announcing her matrimonial intentions. Compared with an English or French girl of the same age, she has many and grave deficiencies; but she atones for them by a wonderful tact and cleverness, which blind you to all her faults and lend a new grace to all her virtues.

“Truth to say, the admirers of Miss Flora, whose name is Legion, give her the credit for all her own virtues, and blame her father and mother, and the system, for all her faults. Born, as we have said, in a boarding-house, left entirely in charge of the nurse-maid, educated at a fashionable day-school, brought into society before fifteen, living in the whirl, the bustle, the luxury, and the unhomeliness of a hotel, what could you expect of Miss Flora but that she should be, at seventeen years of age, a butterfly in her habits, a clever dunce as regards solid knowledge, and a premature woman of the world in her tastes and manners? The apartments which the Briggs family occupy at the Fifth Avenue Hotel are magnificently decorated and furnished, but they do not constitute a home. Several times Mr. Briggs has offered to purchase a house in a fashionable thoroughfare; but his wife objects to the trouble of managing unruly servants, and terrifies Mr. Briggs out of the notion by stories of burglars admitted, and plate stolen, and families murdered in their beds, through the connivance of the domestics. What more can any one desire than the Briggs family obtain at the hotel for a fixed sum per week, and a liberal margin for extras? The apartments are ample and comfortable; the cuisine and the wines are irreproachable; there is a small table reserved for them, to which they can invite whom they choose; an immense staff of servants obey their slightest wish; their carriages, kept at a neighboring livery stable, can be sent for at any moment; they are as secluded in their own rooms as if they lived in another street, so far as the family in the next suite is concerned; they are certain to meet everybody, and can choose their own company; the spacious hotel parlors are at their disposal whenever they wish to give an evening party, reception, or thé dansant. What more could they gain by setting up a private house? Mr. Briggs, having never tried the experiment, does not know. Mrs. Briggs, whose only reminiscence of a private residence is the one in which her mother let lodgings, does not know. Miss Flora Van Duysen Briggs, having never been used to any other way of life than the present, neither knows nor cares, and ‘does not want to be bothered.’

“The Briggs family spend their winters in town, their summers at Newport, Saratoga, or some other watering-place, at which nobody cares anything about the water. The frequenters of these rural or seaside retreats are presumed to come for their health, but really come to show their dresses. Thus Miss Flora’s life varies very little all the year round; she rises late, and is dressed for breakfast; after breakfast she practises upon the piano, shops with her mamma, and returns to be dressed for luncheon; after luncheon she usually takes a brief nap, or lies down to read a novel, and is then dressed for the afternoon promenade, as you have just seen her; after the promenade she is dressed for a drive with mamma in the Central Park; after the drive she is dressed for dinner, or dines in her out-of-door costume, preparatory to being dressed for the opera, the theatre, a ball, or a party. Every Tuesday she receives calls; every Thursday she calls upon her acquaintances. Whenever she has a spare moment, it is bestowed upon her dressmaker. If she thinks, it is to design new trimmings; if she dreams, it is of a heavenly soirée dansante, with an eternal waltz to everlasting music, and a tireless partner in paradisiacal Paris.

“As all the best and—in a double sense—the dearest things of Miss Flora’s life come from Paris, it is quite natural that she should look to Paris for her future. The best of all authorities declares that ‘where the treasure is there will the heart be also.’ Miss Flora’s treasures are in the Parisian magasins, and her heart is with them. Although scores of young men kneel at her feet, press her hands, and deride the stars in comparison with her eyes, she cares for none of her worshippers. She smiles upon them, but the smile is no deeper than the lips; she flirts with them, but stops at that sharp, invisible line which separates a flirtation from a compromising earnestness; she is a coquette, but not a jilt. If she encourages all, it is because she prefers none. Her heart has never been touched, and she knows that none of her admirers in her own country can hope to touch it. Her rivals scornfully assert that she has no heart; but as she is, after all, a woman, this assertion must be incorrect. She is in love with an ideal, but that ideal has a title. So soon as Mr. Briggs can dispose of his business, Miss Flora is to be taken to Paris. Within two years afterwards she will be led to the altar by a French duke, marquis, or count, who will fall in love with her father’s bank-book, and then she will figure as an ornament of the French Court, or the salons of the Faubourg Saint-Germain. This is her ambition, and she will certainly accomplish it. The blood of the Van Duysens and the money of Briggs can accomplish anything when united in Miss Flora. With this end in view, the little lady is as inaccessible to ordinary admirers as a princess. She is a duchess by anticipation, and feels the pride of station in advance. There is no danger that she will falter in the race through any womanly weakness, nor through any lack of knowledge of the wiles of men. With the beauty of Venus and the chastity of Diana, she also possesses qualities derived directly from Mother Eve. An English matron would blush to know, and a French mère would be astonished to learn, secrets which Miss Flora has at her pretty finger-ends. She has acquired her knowledge innocently, and she will use it judiciously. Nothing escapes her quick eyes and keen ears, and under that demure forehead is a faculty which enables her to ‘put this and that together,’ and arrive at conclusions which would amaze her less acute foreign sisters. You may not envy her this faculty, but do not accuse her of employing it improperly. She will never disgrace herself nor the coronet which she already feels pressing lightly upon her head. As she trips out of sight, it may give any man a heart-pang to think that there is at least one lovely woman who is impenetrable to love; but then, if she were like those dear, soft, fond, impressible, confiding beauties of a former age, she would not be herself—a Girl of the Period.”

VI. FASHIONABLE ENTERTAINMENTS.

New York has long been celebrated for its magnificent social entertainments. Its balls, dinner parties, receptions, private theatricals, pic-nics, croquet parties, and similar gatherings are unsurpassed in respect to show in any city in the world. Every year some new species of entertainment is devised by some leader in society, and repeated throughout the season by every one who can raise the money to pay for it. The variety, however, is chiefly in the name, for all parties, breakfasts, dinners, suppers, or receptions are alike.

Of late years it is becoming common not to give entertainments at one’s residence, but to hire public rooms set apart for that purpose. There is a large house in the upper part of Fifth avenue, which is fitted up exclusively for the use of persons giving balls, suppers, or receptions. It is so large that several entertainments can be held at the same time on its different floors, without either annoying or inconveniencing the others. The proprietor of the establishment provides everything down to the minutest detail, the wishes and tastes of the giver of the entertainment being scrupulously respected in everything. The host and hostess, in consequence, have no trouble, but have simply to be on hand at the proper time to receive their guests. This is a very expensive mode of entertaining, and costs from 5000 to 15,000 dollars, for the caterer expects a liberal profit on everything he provides; but to those who can afford it, it is a very sensible plan. It saves an immense amount of trouble at home, and preserves one’s carpets and furniture from the damage invariably done to them on such occasions, and averts all possibility of robbery by the strange servants one is forced to employ. Still, many who possess large and elegant mansions of their own prefer to entertain at their own homes.

On such occasions, the lady giving the entertainment issues her invitations, and usually summons the famous Brown, the Sexton of Grace Church, to assist her in deciding who shall be asked beyond her immediate circle of friends. Mr. Brown is a very tyrant in such matters, and makes out the list to suit himself rather than to please the hostess. He has full authority from her to invite any distinguished strangers who may be in the city.

Upon the evening appointed a carpet is spread from the curbstone to the front door, and over this is placed a temporary awning. A policeman is engaged to keep off the crowd and regulate the movements of the carriages. About nine o’clock magnificent equipages, with drivers and footmen in livery, commence to arrive, and from these gorgeous vehicles richly dressed ladies and gentlemen alight, and pass up the carpeted steps to the entrance door. On such occasions gentlemen are excluded from the carriage if possible, as all the space within the vehicle is needed for the lady’s skirts. The lady is accompanied by a maid whose business it is to adjust her toilette in the dressing room, and see that everything is in its proper place.

At the door stands some one, generally the inevitable Brown, to receive the cards of invitation. Once admitted, the ladies and gentlemen pass into the dressing rooms set apart for them. Here they put the last touches to their dress and hair, and, the ladies having joined their escorts, enter the drawing room and pay their respects to the host and hostess. When from one to two thousand guests are to be received, the reader may imagine that the labors of the host and hostess are not slight.

Every arrangement is made for dancing. A fine orchestra is provided, and is placed so that it may consume as little space as possible. A row of chairs placed around the room, and tied in couples with pocket-handkerchiefs, denotes that “The German” is to be danced during the course of the evening. There is very little dancing, however, of any kind, before midnight, the intervening time being taken up with the arrivals of guests and promenading.

About midnight the supper room is thrown open, and there is a rush for the tables, which are loaded with every delicacy that money can buy. The New York physicians ought to be devoutly thankful for these suppers. They bring them many a fee. The servants are all French, and are clad in black swallow-tail coats and pants, with immaculate white vests, cravats and gloves. They are as active as a set of monkeys, and are capital hands at anticipating your wants. Sometimes the refreshments are served in the parlors, and are handed to the guests by the servants.

The richest and costliest of wines flow freely. At a certain entertainment given not long since, 500 bottles of champagne, worth over four dollars each, were drunk. Some young men make a habit of abstaining carefully during the day, in order to be the better prepared to drink at night. The ladies drink almost as heavily as the men, and some of them could easily drink their partners under the table.

After supper the dancing begins in earnest. If The German is danced it generally consumes the greater part of the evening. I shall not undertake to describe it here. It is a great mystery, and those who understand it appear to have exhausted in mastering it their capacity for understanding anything else. It is a dance in which the greatest freedom is permitted, and in which liberties are taken and encouraged, which would be resented under other circumstances. The figures really depend upon the leader of the dance, who can set such as he chooses, or devise them, if he has wit enough. All the rest are compelled to follow his example. The dance is thoroughly suited to the society we are considering, and owes its popularity to the liberties, to use no stronger term, it permits.

The toilettes of the persons present are magnificent. The ladies are very queens in their gorgeousness. They make their trails so long that half the men are in mortal dread of breaking their necks over them; and having gone to such expense for dry goods in this quarter, they display the greatest economy about the neck and bust. They may be in “full dress” as to the lower parts of their bodies, but they are fearfully undressed from the head to the waist.

Towards morning the ball breaks up. The guests, worn out with fatigue, and not unfrequently confused with liquor, take leave of their hosts and go home. Many of them repeat the same performance almost nightly during the season. No wonder that when the summer comes they are so much in need of recuperation.

VII. MARRIAGE AND DEATH.

Only wealthy marriages are tolerated in New York society. For men or women to marry beneath them is a crime society cannot forgive. There must be fortune on one side at least. Marriages for money are directly encouraged. It is not uncommon for a man who has won a fortune to make the marriage of his daughter the means of getting his family into society. He will go to some young man within the pale of good society, and offer him the hand of his daughter and a fortune. The condition demanded of the aforesaid young man is that he shall do what may lie within his power to get the family of the bride within the charmed circle. If the girl is good looking, or agreeable, the offer is rarely refused.

When a marriage is decided upon, the engagement is announced through one of the “society newspapers,” of which there are several. It is the bounden duty of the happy pair to be married in a fashionable church. To be married in or buried from Grace or St. Thomas’s Church, is the desire of every fashionable heart. Invitations are issued to the friends of the two families, and no one is admitted into the church without a card. Often “no cards” are issued, and the church is jammed by the outside throng, who profane the holy temple by their unmannerly struggles to secure places from which to view the ceremony. Two clergymen are usually engaged to tie the knot, in order that a Divorce Court may find it the easier to undo. A reporter is on hand, who furnishes the city papers with a full description of the grand affair. The dresses, the jewels, the appearance of the bride and groom, and the company generally, are described with all the eloquence Jenkins is master of.

If the wedding be at Grace Church, Brown, “the great sexton” is in charge. A wedding over which he presides is sure to be a great success. A wonderful man is Brown. No account of New York society would be complete without a few words about Brown. He has been sexton of Grace Church ever since the oldest inhabitant can remember, and those familiar with the matter are sorely puzzled to know what the church will do when Brown is gathered to his fathers. The congregation would sooner part with the best Rector they have ever had than give up Brown. A certain Rector did once try to compel him to resign his post because he, the Rector, did not fancy Brown’s ways, which he said were hardly consistent with the reverence due the house of God. The congregation, however, were aghast at the prospect of losing Brown, and plainly gave the Rector to understand that he must not interfere with the sexton. Never mind about his want of reverence. The Rector’s business was to look after the religious part of the congregation, while Brown superintended the secular affairs of that fashionable corporation. They had use for the Rector only on Sunday; but Brown they looked up to every day in the week. The Rector meekly subsided, and Brown forgave him.

A very lucky man is Brown, and very far from being a fool. There is no sharper, shrewder man in New York, and no one who estimates his customers more correctly. He puts a high price on his services, and is said to have accumulated a handsome fortune, popularly estimated at about $300,000. Fat and sleek, and smooth of tongue, he can be a very despot when he chooses. He keeps a list of the fashionable young men of the city, who find it to their interest to be on good terms with him, since they are mainly dependent upon him for their invitations. Report says that, like a certain great statesman, Brown is not averse to receiving a small present now and then as a reminder of the gratitude of the recipients of his favors.

Brown is sixty years old, but time has dealt lightly with him, and he is still hale and hearty. He knows all the gossip of New York for thirty years back, but also knows how to hold his tongue. To see him in his glory, one should wait until the breaking up of some great party. Then he takes his stand on the steps of the mansion, and in the most pompous manner calls the carriages of the guests. There is no chance for sleep in the neighborhood when the great voice of the “great sexton” is roaring down the avenue. He takes care that the whole neighborhood shall know who have honored the entertainment with their presence.

He has a sharp tongue, too, this Brown, when he chooses to use it, and a good story is told of this quality of his. He was once calling the carriages at a brilliant party. Among the guests was Harry X---, a young gentleman of fortune, concerning whose morals some hard things were said. It was hinted that Mr. X--- was rather too fond of faro. The young gentleman and the great sexton were not on good terms, and when Brown, having summoned Mr. X---’s carriage, asked, as usual, “Where to, sir?” he received the short and sharp reply, “To where he brought me from.” “All right, sir,” said Brown, calmly, and turning to the driver he exclaimed in a loud tone, “Drive Mr. X--- to John Chamberlain’s faro-bank.” A roar of laughter greeted this sally, and Brown smiled serenely as his discomfited enemy was driven away.

Fashionable weddings are very costly affairs. The outfits of the bride and groom cost thousands of dollars, the extravagance of the man being fully equal to that of his bride. A wedding is attended with numerous entertainments, all of which are costly, and the expenses attendant upon the affair itself are enormous. The outlay is not confined to the parties immediately concerned, the friends of the happy pair must go to great expense to give to the bride elegant and appropriate presents. One, two, or three rooms, as may be required, are set apart at every fashionable wedding, for the display of the presents. These are visited and commented upon by the friends of the bride and groom, such being the prescribed custom. The presents are frequently worth a handsome fortune. At the marriage of the daughter of a notorious politician not long since, the wedding presents were valued at more than $250,000. Efforts have been repeatedly made to put a stop to the giving of such costly presents, but the custom still continues.

As it is the ambition of every one of the class we are discussing to live fashionably, so it is their chief wish to be laid in the grave in the same style. The undertaker at a fashionable funeral is generally the sexton of some fashionable church, perhaps of the church the deceased was in the habit of attending. This individual prescribes the manner in which the funeral ceremonies shall be conducted, and advises certain styles of mourning for the family. Sometimes the blinds of the house are closed, and the gas lighted in the hall and parlors. The lights in such cases are arranged in the most artistic manner, and everything is made to look as “interesting” as possible.

A certain fashionable sexton always refuses to allow the female members of the family to follow their dead to the grave. He will not let them be seen at the funeral, at all, as he says, “It’s horribly vulgar to see a lot of women crying about a corpse; and, besides, they’re always in the way.”

The funeral over, the bereaved ones must remain in the house for a certain length of time, the period being regulated by a set decree. To be seen on the street within the prescribed time, would be to lose caste. Many of the days of their seclusion are passed in consultations with their modiste, in preparing the most fashionable mourning that can be thought of. They no doubt agree fully with a certain famous modiste of the city, who once declared to a widow, but recently bereaved, that “fashionable and becoming mourning is so comforting to persons in affliction.”

Well, after all, only the rich can afford to die and be buried in style in the great city. A lot in Greenwood is worth more than many comfortable dwellings in Brooklyn. A fashionable funeral entails heavy expenses upon the family of the deceased. The coffin must be of rosewood, or some other costly material, and must be lined with satin. A profusion of white flowers must be had to cover it and to deck the room in which the corpse is laid out. The body must be dressed in a suit of the latest style and finest quality, and the cost of the hearse and carriages, the expenses at the church and cemetery, and the fees of the undertaker, are very heavy. The average expense of such an occasion may be set down at from $1500 to $2000.

VII. THE MUNICIPAL POLICE.

Until the passage of the new Charter in 1870, the Police Department was independent of the control of the city officials, and consequently independent of local political influences. There was a “Metropolitan Police District,” embracing the cities of New York and Brooklyn, and the counties of New York, Kings, Richmond and Westchester, and a part of Queen’s county, in all a circuit of about thirty miles. The control of this district was committed to a commission of five citizens, who were subject to the supervision of the Legislature of the State. The Mayors of New York and Brooklyn were ex-officio members of this board.

The Charter of 1870 changed all this. It broke up the Metropolitan District, and placed the police of New York and Brooklyn under the control of their respective municipal governments. To the credit of the force be it said, the police of New York were less under the influence of the Ring than any other portion of the municipality, and improved rather than depreciated in efficiency.

As at present constituted, the force is under the control and supervision of four Commissioners appointed by the Mayor. The force consists of a Superintendent, four Inspectors, thirty-two Captains, one hundred and twenty-eight Sergeants, sixty-four Roundsmen and 2085 Patrolmen, Detectives, Doorkeepers, etc.

The present Superintendent of Police is Mr. James J. Kelso. He is the Commander-in-chief of the force, and it is through him that all orders are issued. His subordinates are responsible to him for the proper discharge of their duties, and he in his turn to the Commissioners. He was promoted to his present position on the death of Superintendent Jourdan, and has rendered himself popular with men of all parties by his conscientious discharge of his important duties. Mr. Kelso is eminently fitted for his position. His long service in the force, and great experience as a detective officer, have thoroughly familiarized him with the criminals with whom he has to deal, and the crimes against which he has to contend. He has maintained the discipline of the force at a high point, and has been rigorous in dealing with the offenders against the law. His sudden and sweeping descents upon the gambling hells, and other disreputable places of the city, have stricken terror to the frequenters thereof. They are constantly alarmed, for they know not at what moment they may be captured by Kelso in one of his characteristic raids.

In person Mr. Kelso is a fine-looking, and rather handsome man. He shows well at the head of the force. It is said that he was overwhelmed with mortification last July, when the Mayor compelled him to forbid the “Orange Parade,” and thus make a cowardly surrender to the mob. When Governor Hoffman revoked Mayor Hall’s order, at the demand of the indignant citizens, Kelso was perhaps the happiest man in New York. He had a chance to vindicate his own manhood and the honor of the force, and he and his men did nobly on that memorable day.

The city is divided into two Inspection Districts, each of which is in charge of two Inspectors. Each Inspector is held responsible for the general good conduct and order of his District. It is expected that he will visit portions of it at uncertain hours of the night, in order that the Patrolmen may be made more vigilant by their ignorance of the hour of his appearance on their “beats.” The Inspectors keep a constant watch over the rank and file of the force. They examine the Police Stations, and everything connected with them, at pleasure, and receive and investigate complaints made by citizens against members of the force. The creation of this useful grade is due to John A. Kennedy, the first Superintendent of the Metropolitan Police.

The Inspection Districts are sub-divided into thirty-two precincts, in each of which there is a Police Station. Each Station is in charge of a Captain, who is held to a strict accountability for the preservation of the peace and good order of his precinct. He has authority to post the men under his command in such parts of his precinct, and to assign them to such duties as he deems expedient, under the supervision of the Superintendent. He is required to divide his force into two equal parts, called the First and Second Platoons. Each Platoon consists of two Sections. Each of the four Sections is in charge of a Sergeant.

In the illness or absence of the Captain, the Station and Precinct are commanded by one of the Sergeants, who is named for that purpose by the Superintendent. The special duties of the Sergeants are to patrol their precincts, and see that the Roundsmen and Patrolmen are at their posts and performing their duties properly. They are severally responsible for the condition of their Sections. One of the Sergeants is required to remain at the Station House at all times.

Two Roundsmen are selected by the Commissioners from the Patrolmen of each precinct, and one of them is assigned to each platoon. They have the immediate supervision of the Patrolmen, and are required to exercise a vigilant watch over them at all times.

The Patrolmen are the privates of the force. They are assigned certain “beats” or districts to watch. Many of these beats are too large for the care of one man, and more is expected of the Patrolman than he is capable of performing. He is required to exercise the utmost vigilance to prevent the occurrence of any crime within his beat, and to render the commission of it difficult, at the least. The occurrence of a crime on the streets is always regarded as presumptive evidence of negligence on his part, and he is obliged to show that he was strictly attending to his duties at the time. He is required to watch vigilantly every person passing him while on duty, to examine frequently the doors, lower windows, and gates of the houses on his beat, and warn the occupants if any are open or unlocked; to have a general knowledge of the persons residing in his beat; to report to his commanding officer “all persons known or suspected of being policy dealers, gamblers, receivers of stolen property, thieves, burglars, or offenders of any kind;” to watch all disorderly houses or houses of ill-fame, and observe “and report to his commanding officer all persons by whom they are frequented;” to do certain other things for the preservation of the public peace; and to arrest for certain offences, all of which are laid down in the volume of Regulations, of which each member of the force is obliged to have a copy. Patrolmen are not allowed to converse with each other, except to ask or impart information, upon meeting at the confines of their posts; “and they must not engage in conversation with any person on any part of their post, except in regard to matters concerning the immediate discharge of their duties.”

The uniform of the force is a frock coat and pants of dark blue navy cloth, and a glazed cap. In the summer the dress is a sack and pants of dark blue navy flannel. The officers are distinguished by appropriate badges. Each member of the force is provided with a shield of a peculiar pattern, on which is his number. This is his badge of office, and he is obliged to show it when required. The men are armed with batons or short clubs of hard wood, and revolvers. The latter they are forbidden to use except in grave emergencies.

The general misdemeanors of which the police are bound to take notice, are: Attempts to pick a pocket, especially where the thief is a known pickpocket; cruel usage of animals in public places; interfering with the telegraph wires; selling or carrying a slingshot; aiding in any way in a prize fight, dog fight, or cock fight; destroying fences, trees, or lamps, or defacing property; aiding in theatrical entertainments on Sunday; disorderly conduct; participating in or inciting to riots; assaults; drunkenness on the streets; gambling; discharging fire-arms on the streets; and other stated offences. The officer must be careful to arrest the true offender, and not to interfere with any innocent person, and is forbidden to use violence unless the resistance of his prisoner is such as to render violence absolutely necessary, and even then he is held responsible for the particular degree of force exerted. If he is himself unable to make the arrest, or if he has good reason to fear an attempt at a rescue of the prisoner, it is his duty to call upon the bystanders for assistance; and any person who refuses him when so called on, is guilty of a misdemeanor, for which he may be arrested and punished.

Promotions are made in the force as follows: Inspectors are chosen from the Captains, Captains from Sergeants, Sergeants from Roundsmen, and Roundsmen from the most efficient Patrolmen.

The duties of a policeman are hard, and the salaries are moderate in every grade. The hours for duty of the Patrolmen are divided in the following manner: from six to eight o’clock in the morning; from eight o’clock in the morning to one in the afternoon; from one in the afternoon to six; from six to twelve midnight; from twelve midnight to six in the morning. These “tours” of duty are so distributed that no one man shall be called on duty at the same hour on two successive days. One-third of the entire force, about 700 in all, is on duty in the daytime, and two-thirds, about 1400 men, at night. Sickness and casualties bring down this estimate somewhat, but the men are such fine physical specimens that sick leaves are now comparatively rare.

Besides the Patrolmen there are several divisions of the force. Forty men, called the Court Squad, are on duty at the various Courts of Justice. Four have charge of the House of Detention for Witnesses, No. 203 Mulberry street. The Sanitary Squad consists of a captain, four sergeants, and fifty-seven patrolmen. Some of these are on duty at the ferries and steamboat landings. Others are detailed to examine the steam boilers in use in the city. Others execute the orders of the Board of Health. Another detachment, nine in number, look after truant children. Others are detailed for duty at banks and other places. The Detectives will be referred to hereafter.

The qualifications demanded of an applicant for admission into the force are thus set down in the book of Regulations: “No person will be appointed a Patrolman of the Metropolitan Police Force unless, he

“First, is able to read and write the English language understandingly.

“Second, is a citizen of the United States.

“Third, has been a resident of this State for a term of one year next prior to his application for the office.

“Fourth, has never been convicted of a crime.

“Fifth, is at least five feet eight inches in height.

“Sixth, is less than thirty-five years of age.

“Seventh, is in good health, and of sound body and mind.

“Eighth, is of good moral character and habits.

“Applicants for the office must present to the Board of Commissioners a petition signed by not less than five citizens of good character and habits, and verified by the affidavit of one of them.”

As none but “sound” men are wanted, the applicant is then subjected to a rigid medical examination; and the writer is informed by one of the most efficient surgeons of the force, that scarcely one applicant in ten can stand this test. The applicant must also give, under oath, an exact statement as to his parentage, nationality, education, personal condition in every respect, business or employment, and physical condition.

The strictest discipline is maintained in the force, and offences are rigidly reported and punished. All members are required at once to communicate intelligence of importance to their superior officers. The men are regularly drilled in military exercises, to fit them for dealing efficiently with serious disturbances. The writer can testify, that during their parade in the Spring of 1871, they presented as fine an appearance, and executed their manœuvres as correctly as any body of regular troops.

The finest looking and largest men are detailed for service on Broadway. One of their principal duties is to keep the street free from obstructions, no slight task when one considers the usual jam in the great thoroughfare. It is a common habit to denounce the “Broadway Squad” as more ornamental than useful, but the habitués of that street can testify to the arduous labor performed by the “giants,” and the amount of protection afforded by them to the merchants and promenaders. Scarcely a day passes that they do not prevent robberies and cut short the operations of pickpockets.

The number of arrests made by the force is fair evidence of their efficiency. Since 1862 the annual number has been as follows:

Total arrests in New York

1862 82,072

1863 61,888

1864 54,751

1865 68,873

1866 75,630

1867 80,532

1868 78,451

1869 72,984

During the year 1869, the arrests were divided as follows:

Males 51,446

Females 21,538

The principal causes for which these arrests were made were as follows:

Males Females

Assault and Battery 5,638 1,161

Disorderly conduct 9,376 5,559

Intoxication 15,918 8,105

Intoxication and disorderly conduct 5,232 3,466

Petty larceny 3,700 1,209

Grand larceny 1,623 499

Malicious mischief 1,081 32

Vagrancy 1,065 701

During the past nine years over 73,000 lost children have been restored to their parents by the police. More than 40,000 houses have been found open at night, owing to the carelessness of the inmates, who have been warned of their danger by the police in time to prevent robbery. There is scarcely a fire but is marked by the individual heroism of some member of the force, and the daily papers abound in instances of rescues from drowning by the policemen stationed along the docks. In times of riot and other public danger, the police force have never been found lacking, and they have fairly won the “flag of honor” which the citizens of New York are about to present to them in recognition of their gallant and efficient services on the 12th of July, 1871. That there are individuals whose conduct reflects discredit upon the force is but natural; but as a whole, there does not exist a more devoted, gallant, and efficient body of men than those composing the police of New York.

The Station Houses of the city are so arranged as to be central to their respective precincts. The new buildings are models of their kind, and the old ones are being improved as rapidly as possible. Perhaps the best arranged, the handsomest, and most convenient, is that of the Fourth Precinct, located at No. 9 Oak street. The locality is one of the worst in the city, and it is necessary that the police accommodations should be perfect. The building is of red brick, with a fine white granite façade, with massive stone steps leading from the street to the main entrance. The entrance leads directly to the main room, or office. On the right of the entrance is the Sergeant’s desk, of black walnut, massive and handsomely carved. Back of this is a fine book-case of the same material, for the record books and papers of the station. The telegraph instrument is at the side farthest from the windows—a precaution looking to its safety in case of a riot or attack on the station. Speaking-tubes, and boxes for papers, communicate with the other apartments. The walls are adorned with fine photographs of the late Superintendent Jourdan, the present Superintendent Kelso, and the Police Commissioners. Back of the office is the Surgeon’s Room, with every convenience for the performance of the Surgeon’s duties. The office of the Captain in command of the station is to the left of the entrance, and is fitted up with a Brussels carpet, and black walnut furniture. The walls are covered with fine engravings and photographs of prominent men. The Captain is also provided with a bed-room, bathroom, etc., which are elegantly furnished. The Sergeants’ bedrooms are large, airy, and well furnished. Bathrooms for the Sergeants and Patrolmen are located in the basement. The sleeping rooms of the Sergeants and Roundsmen, and four large dormitories for the Patrolmen, are situated on the second and third floors. Each Patrolman has a private closet for his clothing, etc., and each bedstead is stamped with the occupant’s section number. The fourth story is used for store-rooms. On the first floor there is also a large sitting-room for the Patrolmen.

Attached to the Station House, and connected with it by a bridge, is the prison, a brick building three stories in height. It is entered through the Patrolmen’s sitting-room, and is the largest in any city station house. It contains fifty-two cells, all of which are of a good size and are well ventilated. Four of these (Nos. 1, 16, 17, 32) are somewhat larger than the others, and are humorously called by the force “Bridal chambers.” They are reserved for the more respectable prisoners. Over the prison are two large rooms designed for the unfortunates who seek a night’s shelter at the station—one for men and the other for women. They are provided with board platforms to sleep on. These platforms can be removed, and the whole place drenched with water from hydrants conveniently located.

As a matter of course, this model station is in charge of one of the most efficient, experienced, and reliable officers of the force. It is at present commanded by Captain A. J. Allaire, whose personal and official record fairly entitles him to the high and honorable position he holds in the force.

The station houses are kept scrupulously clean. Neatness is required in every department of the police service. The Inspector may enter them at any hour, and he is almost sure to find them in perfect order.

These stations afford a temporary shelter to the outdoor poor. In all of them accommodations are provided for giving a night’s lodging to the poor wretches who seek it. When the snow lies white over the ground, or the frosts have driven them out of the streets, these poor creatures come in crowds to the station houses, and beg for a shelter for the night. You may see them huddling eagerly around the stove, spreading their thin hands to catch the warmth, or holding some half-frozen child to be thawed by the heat, silent, submissive, and grateful, yet even half afraid that the kind-hearted Sergeant, who tries to hide his sympathy for them by a show of gruffness, will turn them into the freezing streets again. When the rooms devoted to their use are all filled, others still come, begging, ah, so piteously, to be taken in for the night. I think there is no part of the Sergeant’s duties so hard, so painful to him, as to be forced to turn a deaf ear to these appeals. Let us thank God, however, he does not do so often, and even at the risk of being “overhauled” for exceeding his duty, the Sergeant finds, or makes, a place for those who seek his assistance in this way. Many of those who seek shelter here are constant tramps, who have nowhere else to go. Others are strangers in the city—poor people who have come here in search of employment. Failing to find it, and what little money they brought with them being exhausted, they have only the alternative of the station house or the pavement. Many who are simply unfortunate, suffer almost to perishing before seeking the station house, mistakenly supposing that in so doing they place themselves on a par with those who are brought there for offences against the law. But at last the cold and the snow drive them there, and they meet with kindness and consideration. I could not here present a description of the quiet and practical way in which the members of the “Force” relieve such sufferers. No record is kept of such good deeds by the force, and the Sergeant’s book is modestly silent on this subject; but we may be sure it is written in letters of living light on the great book that shall be opened at the last day.

The stations are connected with each other and with the headquarters by telegraph. The telegraph system has been so perfected that by means of a set of numbers struck on a bell, each of which refers to a corresponding number in the book of signals, questions are asked and answered, and messages sent from station to station with the greatest rapidity.

The Headquarters of the Police Force are located in a handsome building, five stories high, known as No. 300 Mulberry street. The building extends through to Mott street, in the rear. It is situated on the easterly side of Mulberry street, between Bleecker and Houston streets. It is ninety feet in width. The Mulberry street front is of white marble, and the Mott street front is of pressed brick, with white marble trimmings. It is fitted up with great taste, and every convenience and comfort is provided for the members of the force on duty here. The greatest order is manifest. Everything and every man has a place, and must be in it at the proper times. There is no confusion. Each department has its separate quarters.