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Society as I Have Found It

<h3>CHAPTER XI.</h3> <div class="blockquot">A Handsome, Courtly Man—A Turkey Chase—A Visit to Livingston Manor—An Ideal Life—On Horseback from Staatsburg to New York—Village Inn Dinners—I Entertain a Fashionable Party at the Gibbons Mansion—An Old House Rejuvenated—The Success of the Party—Country Life may be Enjoyed Here as well as in England if one has the Money and the Inclination for it—It means Hard Work for the Host, though. </div> All my life I had been taught to have a sort of reverence for the name of Livingston, and to feel that Livingston Manor was a species of palatial residence, that one must see certainly once in one’s lifetime. The opportunity offered itself, and I seized upon it. The owner of the upper Manor jokingly suggested our forming a party to go there, and take possession of his house in October, and see the lovely autumn foliage. By acclamation, it was resolved that the project be carried out, and I went to work, spurring up my old friend,{140} the owner of the Manor, to prepare for us. As an important feature and member of this party, I must here give a slight sketch of one of the handsomest, most fascinating, most polished and courteous gentlemen of that or any other period. We will here call him the Major; amiability itself, a man both sexes could fall in love with. I loved him dearly, and when I lost him I felt much of the charm of life had departed with him. At all these country parties, he was always first and foremost. My rapidity of thought and action always annoyed him. “My dear fellow,” he would say, “for heaven’s sake, go slow; you tear through the streets as if at some one’s bidding. A gentleman should stroll leisurely, casting his eyes in the shop windows, as if in search of amusement, while you go at a killing pace, as if on business bent. The man of fashion should have no business.” Again, he had a holy horror of familiar garments. “My dear boy,” he would smile and say, “when will you discard that old coat? I am so{141} familiar with it, I am fatigued at the sight of it.” On one subject we were always in accord—our admiration for women. My eye was quicker than his, and I often took advantage of it. I would say, “Major, did you see that beauty? By Jove, a most delicious creature!” “Who? Where?” he would exclaim. “Why, man,” I replied, “she has passed you; you have lost her.” “Lost her! How could you let that happen? Why, why did you not sooner call my attention to her?” Apropos of the Major, I must tell a good story at his expense: As my farm parties were always gotten up at a day’s notice, I was often in straits to provide the dishes, for all that was wanting to complete the feast I furnished myself. A boned turkey, on one occasion, was absolutely necessary. The day was a holiday. I must at once place it in the cook’s hands. The shops were all shut,{142} so I suggested to the Major that he drive out with me to my farm and procure one. When we reached the place, farmer and family, we found, had gone off visiting; there was no one there. I took in the situation at a glance. “Major,” I said, “there, in that field, is a gobbler; that turkey you and I have got to catch, if it takes us all night to get him. Positively I shall not leave the place without him.” He looked aghast. There he was, in Poole’s clothes, the best dressed man in America! This he always was. On this point, a friend once got this off on him. As he was entering his club, with another well-dressed man of leisure, this gentleman exclaimed, “Behold them! like the lilies of the field, they toil not, neither do they spin, yet Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.” Clothes, or no clothes, in pursuit of the turkey we went. Over fences, under fences, in barnyards and through fields, at a full run, the perspiration pouring down the{143} cheeks of the dear old Major, and I screaming encouragement to him. “Try it again, Major! head him off! now you have him!” Finally, after an hour’s chase, we got the bird, when, throwing off his coat, straightening himself up and throwing his arms akimbo, he exclaimed, “Well, Mc, the profession of a gentleman has fallen very low when it takes him to chasing turkeys.” “My dear fellow,” I replied, “the great Chancellor Livingston once said, ‘a gentleman can do anything; he can clean his own boots, but he should do it well.’” To return to our excursion. The party to go up the North River to the Manor Livingston, and ride back to New York, was at once formed. My first discussion with the Major was as to the propriety of taking a valet, he insisting it was indispensable, that every college boy in England, on three hundred pounds a year, had his valet. I contended that they were nuisances, and it was not the habit to indulge in them here. Besides this, our host{144} would have his hands full in caring for us, and would feel we were imposing on him if each of us took a man servant. This settled it. The Major and I were to travel together and meet the party at Staatsburg. Let me here say that people of the world put up with the annoyance of travel better than any other class of people. The glorious morning that we left the cars at Poughkeepsie, and mounted our horses, I shall never forget. That lovely ride, from Poughkeepsie to Staatsburg, under that superb row of old trees, put me in mind of the Long Walk at Windsor; it is equally as handsome. We speculated on the way as to what we were to expect. “If he has no chef, I leave in twenty-four hours,” exclaimed my friend. I assured him we might feel secure of finding artistic cooking and of having a very jolly good time. Instead of a palace, I found a fine, old-fashioned country-house, very draughty, but beautifully placed amid magnificent forest trees. My first exploit was to set{145} fire to the carpet in my room by building a huge fire in my grate, to try and keep warm. As the Major put it, “My dear boy, burn yourself up if you will, but kindly remember you endanger all our lives.” At eleven every morning we were all in the saddle, and went off for a ride of some twenty miles, lunching at some fine house or other. It was English life to perfection, and most enjoyable. Hyde Park, with two superbly kept places, and its little village church on a Sunday, carried you back to England, and it seemed then to me that you there found the perfection of country life. It was whilst dining in one of these old baronial mansions, that I conceived the idea of transporting the whole party to my late father-in-law’s place at Madison, New Jersey, and giving them myself, in his old residence, another country entertainment. After inviting them, I began to realize what I had undertaken. The house itself{146} was all one could wish, built of brick, and nearly as large as the White House in Washington. But it had been shut up and unoccupied for years; however, I was in for it and I resolved, in spite of all difficulties, to carry it through successfully. After a week at the Manor, our whole party of some dozen ladies and gentlemen mounted our horses, and rode down to New York, sending the servants ahead by rail, to engage apartments, have our rooms ready, and dinner prepared for us at the village inns where we were to sleep. It was amusing to see the gentlemen in dress coats and white cravats, and the ladies in their handsome toilets, sitting down in a village inn to ham and eggs and boiled chicken and cabbage; but, as we had always sent on the wine, and had the best of servants to look after everything, we enjoyed these inn dinners very much. Not a murmur from any of the ladies of any discomfort; they found everything charming and amusing. So day by day we rode, chatting away and{147} enjoying each other’s society, and at night, after a cosy little meal, we were all only too glad to seek the arms of Morpheus. When I returned to my family at Newport and informed them of what I had done, that I had invited a dozen of the most difficile, fastidious people of Newport to pass ten days with us in New Jersey, at my brother-in-law’s then unoccupied and shut-up residence, there was but one exclamation, “You are crazy! How could you think of such a thing! How are you to care for all these people in that old deserted house?” All they said did not discourage me. I determined to show my friends that, though the Gibbons mansion was not a Manor house, it was deserving of the name, and was, at that date, one of the handsomest, largest, most substantial, and well-built residences at the North. When the Civil War broke out, my brother-in-law requested me to make it my home. I give in detail all I did to successfully entertain my friends for ten days in this{148} old family house, as it may instruct others how to act in a similar case. In London, during the season, one hires a house for a few days to give a ball in, and there are many very superb large houses used there in this way every year. Telegraphing at once to the agent who had charge of this house to put an army of scrubbing-women in it, and have it cleaned from cellar to garret, I next went into the wholesale business of kerosene and lamps. In the country particularly there is nothing like an illumination à giorno at night. I hunted up an experienced chef, got my servants, and then made menus for ten dinners, lunches, and breakfasts, as my guests were asked for a certain length of time; engaged a country band of music for the evenings, telegraphed to Baltimore for my canvasbacks, arranged for my fish, vegetables, and flowers to be sent up by train daily from New York, purchased myself every article of food that I would require to make up these menus, gave orders for my ices, bonbons,{149} and cakes, everything that must be fresh to be good, to come to me by express; sent up my wines, but no Madeira, as I knew there was enough of that wine in the wine cellars of that old house to float a frigate; looked after my stabling, and found we could stable twenty horses in a fine brick stable, and house all the drags and vehicles. The conservatories were full of orange and lemon trees. The house itself, architecturally, was a duplicate of the White House in Washington, and almost as large. It had a superb marble hall, 20 × 45, leading to a dining-room, 36 × 25. The house was built in 1836, of brick, in a forest of trees, with the three farms surrounding it really forming part of the grounds, containing a thousand acres of land. The house and grounds cost in 1836 over $150,000. All I had to do, then, was to reanimate the interior and take from hidden recesses the fine old family china, and the vast quantity of silver accumulated in the family for three generations. My{150} wife’s grandfather had been a distinguished lawyer; being wealthy, he had some of his lawyer’s fees which were paid in Spanish dollars, melted into plate. I only wish it had been my good fortune to have secured some of those old grand silver salvers. Before a guest arrived, everything on and about the place had life and animation. To all my guests the house was a surprise, for it had never before been shown to fashionable people. As on the North River, we passed the days in the saddle, and driving four-in-hands, lunched with many distinguished people, at their distant country places, and lived for those ten days as thoroughly an English life as one would have lived at a country house in England. I had invited young men to come down from New York every evening to join us at dinner, and even the fastidious and exacting Major, I think, was satisfied with everything. The success of this party evidenced that a country house can be made as perfect and enjoyable here as in any{151} other country, provided you will take the trouble and bear the expense. Now, Newport life is wholly and entirely a contrast to all this, for the charm of that place is its society. You do not bring it there, but find it there, and it takes care of itself, and comes to you when you wish it; thus you are relieved of the care of providing daily for a large company, to do which is well enough in England, where you inherit your servants with your fortune, while here, to have things properly done, be you who you may, you must give them your time and attention. This country party I gave in November, 1862. {152} {153} <h2>FASHIONABLE PEOPLE.</h2> {154}  {155}  <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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