4

The Young Pretender

January 1895, New York

‘We have no right to exclude those whom the growth of this great country has brought forward, provided they are not vulgar in speech or appearance. The time has come for the Vanderbilts.’ – MRS ASTOR

Mrs Astor had taken pity on young Consuelo Vanderbilt and decided to invite her to dinner. Tonight she would be entertaining in honour of her great niece, Helen Kingsland, before her guests would move on to the first Tuesday dance of the year at Sherry’s. Of course she had heard the news about the Vanderbilts’ separation. Although she didn’t like to listen to gossip, it had been unavoidable. Alva Vanderbilt had decided to divorce her husband and the newspapers were gleefully speculating about possible causes. There were rumours of Willie K’s affair with a certain Nellie Neustretter, a demi-mondaine, whom he had been seen flaunting around Paris and the South of France. The notorious scandal sheet Town Topics had reported the story in July the previous year, describing Nellie somewhat surprisingly, given the situation, as ‘one of the prettiest and nicest of the high-class horizontales’.¹ Willie K appeared to do nothing to conceal his affair, parading the courtesan around the Tuileries Garden and ensuring the couple dined out in the most fashionable places of the day. The rumours surrounding Alva’s own affair with Willie K’s friend Oliver Belmont, a dashing and accomplished sportsman from the Belmont banking family, had also been gathering pace during the summer of 1894. It was clear that both of the Vanderbilts wished to abandon the marriage, and their inability to be discreet about their emotions had resulted in press coverage that now made it impossible to continue the façade.

Mrs Astor felt sorry for young Consuelo. After all, it was her first Season out in society but, instead of taking her rightful place among the establishment as one of the most elegant, cultured and wealthiest debutantes of the age, she would be forced to show immense fortitude in the face of a flurry of media reports and drawing-room whispers. It wasn’t at all certain that Consuelo Vanderbilt had the tenacity to see off the gossips. There was no doubt she had an ethereal quality about her; she was almost regal in the way that she carried herself and appeared removed from the minutiae of life. Indeed, the young girl likely had often reminded Mrs Astor of herself, rising above life’s challenges, never concerning herself with the details of society. Thankfully, Consuelo was nothing like her mother and her band of presumptuous Swells, who had infiltrated New York’s elite and turned what were once dignified and restrained entertainments into pretentious affairs that increasingly resembled a circus. Initially, Mrs Astor had attempted to discourage their rise, decreeing that they never appear on guest lists associated with the Astor name and, together with Ward McAllister, ensuring they were ostracised from the impenetrable citadel of The Four Hundred. But McAllister had quickly realised that this new generation of Vanderbilts would not be kept out of society for long. They were ambitious, socially astute and knew how to use the press to their own advantage, a new and crucial element of the game that Mrs Astor had declined to master. Slowly, she had been compelled to acquiesce and the Vanderbilts had been granted an invitation to a Patriarchs’ Ball, but even that did not satisfy the ambitious Alva. She was not content with simply appearing at one event after another as the winter Season marched on. No, she had wanted all of New York to grace her ballroom.

And so it was that Mrs Astor came to attend her first Vanderbilt ball. The evening must have been forever etched on her memory, for Alva’s notorious costume ball on 26 March 1883 changed everything. It was on a scale of opulence New York had never before witnessed and would become an aspirational touchstone for hostesses as they sought to plan rival entertainments to yield the same impact on their world. Looking back on it, Mrs Astor would have had to admire Alva: she had played her hand to perfection and had used the ball to claim her place as a leader of the elite. She had invited all of polite society to a costume ball at her newly built and exceptionally lavish residence in honour of her good friend Consuelo Manchester (née Yznaga), generally known now as Lady Mandeville, on her first visit to America since her marriage. In so doing, she had offered New York’s nobility the opportunity not only to meet a member of the British aristocracy but to finally discover what lay inside the Beaux-Arts mansion that dominated Fifth Avenue.

Alva and Willie K had commissioned the renowned architect Richard Morris Hunt to build 660 Fifth Avenue, which was situated on the northwest corner of 52nd Street and Fifth Avenue. He had been slowly gaining a reputation among New York’s elite for his designs and had recently completed the architecturally accomplished New York Tribune Building, which was noted for being one of the first high-rise-elevator buildings. In 1878, he embarked on an ambitious project for the W K Vanderbilts to create a French Renaissance-style chateau that would be an embodiment of the couple’s ambitions. Drawing on the time she had spent in Paris as a young woman, Alva was an exacting client who took a keen interest in Hunt’s designs, vigorously challenging the architect at every turn to ensure the mansion lived up to her inflated expectations.

The Fifth Avenue house was the second time Hunt and Alva had collaborated on a project, after completing Idle Hour, the Vanderbilt’s Long Island country estate. This project was to be on a much grander scale and naturally would require more of the Vanderbilt millions to ensure its completion. Alva was confident it would be a good investment and, after the Commodore’s death in 1877, it was Willie K’s father, William Henry, to whom she turned to bankroll the project. When she presented her plans for an ambitious three-and-a-half-storey mansion to him, he is reported to have said, ‘Well, well, where do you expect to get the money for all this?’² Alva’s reaction was to slap her father-in-law on the back and reply, ‘From you!’³ Whether William Henry was now wise to his daughter-in-law’s dogged persistence or whether her grit and self-confidence reminded him of the Commodore, who was always fond of Alva, he agreed to the plan and the money was soon made available.

Hunt immediately got to work building a mansion that would not only be a symbol of the W K Vanderbilts’ immense wealth, but would also be architecturally revered. The house was situated next to the residence of William Henry, who had purchased an entire block of land from 51st to 52nd Street on Fifth Avenue to build his ‘Twin Palace’. Unusually, he engaged Herter Brothers, who were renowned for working on interiors, to design and build two identical Italianate-style mansions, one to be occupied by himself and his wife Louisa, and the other to be divided in half for two of his married daughters to live in. At the same time, William Henry’s eldest son, Cornelius, Willie K’s brother and principal heir to the fortune, was embarking on his own project on West 57th Street, a French Renaissance-inspired palace conceived by the architect George Post. It meant that the Vanderbilts were now occupying a huge block of land on Fifth Avenue, soon dubbed ‘Vanderbilt Alley’, an immense demonstration of strength and unity by the family and a clear signal to society that they now had the real-estate portfolio to match their fortune. However, while the mansions built by William Henry and Cornelius were large and imposing, they had not been well received. Fitting the usual model of mansions funded by new money, they were considered ostentatious and unrefined; critics and old Knickerbocker families took pleasure in deriding them from their simple and tasteful brownstones. One critic wrote of Cornelius’s house that it ‘suggests rather a pretentious family hotel than a luxurious and elegant home’.⁴

The property rush uptown, driven by the Swells who were also driving Manhattan’s economy, did not go unnoticed by visitors to the country. The French writer Paul Bourget did not appreciate the American pastiche of European architecture, musing: ‘Here and there are vast contraptions which reproduce the palaces and chateaux of Europe… The absence of unity in this architecture is a sufficient reminder that this is the country of the individual will, as the absence of gardens and trees around these sumptuous residences proves the newness of all this wealth and of her city. This avenue has been willed and created by sheer force of millions, in a fever of land speculation, which has not left an inch of ground unoccupied.’⁵

Alva and Willie K’s mansion was the final Vanderbilt palace to be completed. Where William Henry and Cornelius had failed, Alva would not. She was determined that her house would be a very different prospect and would gain the approval of both society and any distinguished visitors to New York. It was inspired by the gothic and perennially chic Château de Blois in the Loire Valley in France and its position ensured it was in a prime position to be admired by New Yorkers both rich and poor. Inside, its polished marble floors and grand Caen stone staircase fifty feet high formed a dramatic and commanding entrance for every entertainment that Alva would host. In fact, entertaining was this French palace’s raison d’être, and every detail had been planned to astound and amaze guests. It had to be unlike anything New York society had ever seen before, Alva instructed Hunt, whatever the cost.

In the end the project would cost the Vanderbilts around three million dollars⁶ to complete. The interior would indeed be the most sumptuous that society had been exposed to. It boasted oak-panelled ceilings and walls that were adorned with wainscoting of richly carved stone and antique seventeenth-century Italian tapestries. Hunt also constructed a fifty-foot banqueting hall with a first-floor gallery specifically built for the musicians that would entertain at balls. At one end of the banqueting hall there was an imposing bay window filled with an ornate twenty-five-foot-wide stained-glass window by the renowned French artisan Eugéne Oudinot. It was divided into three sections and depicted Henry VIII’s meeting with François I at the Field of the Cloth of Gold – a dramatic backdrop for the smart set to admire. Everything about 660 Fifth Avenue was luxurious and impressive. Its beautiful façade stood proudly on the most fashionable street in the city, fascinating society as it made its daily calls. Like a fairytale palace, it beguiled and intrigued the elite to such an extent that it became impossible to resist an opportunity to peek behind its doors. Amid this atmosphere of intense curiosity, Alva took her chance and duly dispatched the invitations to her ball.

It had been Consuelo Manchester who had first suggested a costume ball. Now firmly ensconced in the British aristocracy after her marriage to Kim, the heir to the Dukedom of Manchester, she had on her return for the Season, been immediately accepted into the upper echelons of New York society and was revelling in her new status. Her ascent from outsider to darling of The Four Hundred had been achieved by an English title; now her Cuban background and questionable breeding didn’t seem to matter to the establishment, not when they had a member of the aristocracy in their midst. This newfound sense of power delighted Consuelo Manchester and, knowing how her friend longed to replicate her success and finally be accepted by Mrs Astor, it occurred to her that her presence might help to accelerate the process. Journalist William Croffut suggested that Consuelo Manchester’s ‘society experience, cleverness’ made the ball ‘the grandest ever given on this continent, and one which fully established the Vanderbilt family as social leaders’.⁷

While this view may give a little more credit to Consuelo Manchester than is perhaps warranted, there is no doubt that the friends planned the ball together and quickly realised that one of their greatest assets was to highlight the guaranteed appearance of a member of the British aristocracy. For Alva, it was a coup, and the realisation that they had tranformed from Southern misfits to actual power players within the tangled webs of English and American high society, was almost unreal. The night of the ball would be the night they would force the grande dames of New York to smile and pay deference to their hosts, while all of New York watched. If only Mrs Astor wasn’t such a problem.

There was little doubt that Mrs Astor had started to welcome the Vanderbilt family into society. They had duly been invited to a couple of Patriarchs’ Balls, she sat on various charitable committees with Alva and they often moved in the same circles. However, this dance of decorum was very much on Mrs Astor’s terms. She knew she couldn’t stop the rise of the Vanderbilts, but she would accept them gradually. They would wait their turn and be accepted only when they had proved themselves to be acceptable. Memories of Commodore Vanderbilt and the stories of him spitting out tobacco juice on the drawing-room floors of Old New York families that had offered him the hand of friendship were relatively recent, a reminder of how dreadfully ‘new’ the Vanderbilts still were. Granted, the old man was not around anymore to make such a social faux pas but the clan still demanded caution. Willie K was certainly charming and had at least been drilled in the arts of society through his European education, and Alva hailed from old Southern stock so was in theory reliably genteel, but Mrs Astor had noticed a steely ambition in the young woman more akin to the impertinent profiteers who certainly wouldn’t be joining their ranks. Clearly, the Vanderbilts’ transition from outsiders to fully-fledged members of the inner sanctum must be managed very carefully.

What Mrs Astor’s astute perception of Alva Vanderbilt hadn’t extended to was her sheer impatience for change and the force of personality she would put into play to achieve it. The ball was announced for 26 March 1883, falling at the end of Lent and straight after Easter, the perfect time… for society to unburden itself of pious duties and have fun. After weeks of denying themselves in the name of the Lord and their reputations, people would certainly be ready for the kind of decadence that such an occasion demanded. Alva and Consuelo Manchester pored over the guest list – more than sixteen hundred invitations would go out, but who would dance the quadrilles, a set of themed and intricate square dances by a chosen few that would give a focal point to the evening? They had to be elegant, original and perfectly executed. There were many accomplished gentlemen and ladies to choose from, but the hosts had to think strategically: who would garner the most attention and influence? The answer was Carrie Astor.

As Mrs Astor’s youngest daughter, Carrie was the perfect choice to lead the Star Quadrille, a dance that would be populated with the youth and beauty of the city. She was young, impressionable and would surely be swept up in the excitement of being on display at the event of the Season. The invitation was extended and immediately Carrie began to practise her steps and be measured for her sumptuous costume.

Meanwhile, the buzz surrounding the event intensified, leading some to surmise that the press were being briefed by Alva Vanderbilt herself or by one of her most intimate circle. The New York Times wrote: ‘Since the announcement that it would take place… scarcely anything else has been talked about. It has been on every tongue and a fixed idea in every head. It has disturbed the sleep and occupied the waking hours of social butterflies, both male and female, for over six weeks.’⁸ And it wasn’t just the guests that became consumed by the ball. Like a growing obsession, looming as large as the Vanderbilt mansion, dressmakers, artisans, florists, caterers and musicians were all spending every waking moment preparing for the occasion.

Carrie Astor, who had by now been busily practising the Star Quadrille with her friends for weeks, was just one of the guests eagerly anticipating her starring role in Alva’s unstoppable performance. However, just days before the ball, Alva played her trump card. She let it be known that Miss Carrie Astor couldn’t possibly be invited to the ball, as her mother had never even called on the W K Vanderbilts, as was the accepted etiquette. Distraught at the prospect of being left to watch on the sidelines, Carrie appealed to her mother to relent and accept Alva and Willie K into the fold. An Astor carriage was duly dispatched with a calling card, the essential first step to establishing cordial relations, and an invitation to the ball was received in return.

Mrs Astor had been outwitted by the young pretender and, while the Vanderbilts were surely on their way to acceptance before this incident, the costume ball certainly accelerated the process. She declared in 1883, ‘We have no right to exclude those whom the growth of this great country has brought forward, provided they are not vulgar in speech or appearance. The time has come for the Vanderbilts.’⁹

The society florist Klunder had been commissioned to produce a display for the ball that would highlight every inch of the palatial residence. In practice this meant thousands of long-stemmed roses in shades of pink from the darkest crimson to the palest blush, which were purchased at two dollars apiece and adorned the ground and first floors in gilded baskets and vases. However, it was the supper room that had been reserved for the greatest display. As guests stepped inside, they were greeted with a lush tropical garden complete with enormous palm trees and acres of orchids, with two beautiful fountains situated in opposite corners of the room to complete the effect. ‘The walls were nowhere to be seen, but in their places an impenetrable thicket of fern above fern and palm above palm, while from the branches of the palms hung a profusion of lovely orchids, displaying a rich variety of color and an almost endless variation of fantastic forms… The doors of the apartment, thrown back against the walls, were completely covered with roses and lilies of the valley.’¹⁰

Guests were treated to a decadent supper, while the quadrilles were indeed the most magnificent New York had ever witnessed, with nearly one hundred guests partaking in the dancing. The press speculated that ‘the drilling in these quadrilles has been going on assiduously in Mrs William Astor’s and other private residences for more than a week,’¹¹ and the themes ranged from a picturesque Mother Goose offering, which included characters such as Little Bo Peep and Red Riding Hood, to the much-commented-on Hobby Horse quadrille, featuring life-size hobby horses that had taken artisans two months to construct. These were made out of genuine hides and sported large, bright eyes and flowing manes and tails. The gentlemen donned red hunting coats and yellow satin knee-breeches while the ladies wore red hunting coats and white satin skirts from the period of Louis XIV.

The guests – who had agonised long over their costumes, scouring books and paintings for inspiration – did not disappoint either, with costumes ranging from historical figures like Don Juan and Henry IV to a dazzling representation of the electric light and a bejewelled peacock. Of course the redoubtable Mrs Marietta Stevens, as one of the hostess’s earliest champions and the mother of Alva and Consuelo Manchester’s close friend Minnie, had been at the top of the guest list and instinctively grasped the importance of the occasion. Her choice of Queen Elizabeth I as the character she wished to portray was a nod to the scale of her own aspirations, which were gradually being realised. Ward McAllister attended as the Huguenot Count de la Môle, in a sumptuous costume of royal purple velvet slashed with scarlet accents.

There was no limit to the lengths some guests would go to ensure their costume was noticed, as The New York Times remarked: ‘One of the most striking costumes worn was by a well-known young lady who represented a Cat. The overskirt was made entirely of white cats’ tails sewed on a dark background. The bodice was formed of rows of white cats’ heads and the head-dress was a stiffened white cat’s skin, the head over the forehead of the wearer and the tail pendant behind. A blue ribbon with “Puss” inscribed upon it, from which hung a bell, worn around the neck completed the dress.’¹²

The evening’s hostesses had no need to go to such extremes. Alva chose to appear as a Venetian princess, a luminous glow radiating from her as she savoured her triumph. The colour of her dress ranged from deepest orange to the lightest canary and her outfit was topped by a Venetian cap covered with magnificent jewels, the most noticeable of these being a superb peacock in exquisite gems. Consuelo Manchester stood regally beside Alva and Willie K as they received their guests in a costume copied from a picture by Van Dyck of Princess de Croy. She wore a petticoat of black satin heavily embroidered in jet with a body and train of black velvet, large puffed sleeves and an immense stand-up collar of Venetian lace, providing a stunning contrast to her fair colouring.

As the guests streamed in and stared in wonder at the Vanderbilts’ chateau, it was obvious to all that a new era had begun. New York had turned out en masse and even Mrs Astor was part of the glittering menagerie of wealth on display in every corner of the mansion. The opulence on show was like no other ball before it and would mark the beginning of a Gilded Age form of competitive entertaining that would dominate the following years. Elizabeth Drexel encapsulated the profusion of wealth when she wrote: ‘Those were the days of magnificence, when money was poured out like water… The new kings of trade might work at their offices twelve, fourteen hours a day but their wives would have something to show for it. Festoons of priceless jewels draped ample bosoms… the greatest dress designers of Europe vied with one another to create costumes that would grace some splendid ball for one night and then be thrown away.’¹³

Mrs Astor was faced with a problem. Much as she disapproved of the sheer scale of entertainment that Alva Vanderbilt had created that evening, she knew that to maintain her own social position as arbiter of New York society, she would now have to wholeheartedly accept the Vanderbilts or risk being eclipsed by them. Along with McAllister, she would open up the door to society just a little further to ambitious families who could demonstrate their social abilities, talents and all-important resources. And of course, she would have to examine whether her own entertainments were befitting for the new order.

Looking back on the decade since Alva and Willie K’s acclaimed costume ball, Mrs Astor would inevitably have been aware how much had changed. Society had been transformed and, despite her best efforts, was becoming something she almost didn’t recognise. Her proclamations on the right way to behave and her approval on arrivistes fighting to be recognised were still sought and given, but she was now just one of several society matrons who wielded influence. It was clear that the establishment had really changed now that one of those leaders was seeking a divorce and, despite some very public difficulties, was managing to ride out the storm and retain her place. Those who occupied the inner sanctum of society knew that Mrs Astor deplored scandal and yet on this occasion it didn’t seem to matter. Was the Mrs Astor simply a spent force in the face of other more resourceful opponents? Whereas once she and McAllister had held all the power in the palms of their hands, even he was proving a conundrum, exposing the details of their world to an increasingly intrusive press. It all just seemed so dreadfully vulgar.

Yet she herself had changed too. After losing her husband William in 1892, followed by her daughter Helen and one of her sisters in 1893, she had retreated further from the dinners and parties that used to be her most comfortable domain. The vacuum left by her period of mourning had further opened up society to invaders. Now that her nephew William Waldorf’s wife, Mamie, had also passed away just before Christmas, there was a pervading sense of loss, for her family and the life she once knew. Like Willie K, William Astor had been a slave to his indiscretions, a continued source of rumours, but together they had sustained their partnership and risen above the gossip. Divorce would have been truly unthinkable in their New York. However, the new generation, the fast set, was different.

In one of the only interviews Mrs Astor gave to the press she said: ‘I am not vain enough to believe that New York will not be able to get along without me. Many women will rise up to fill my place. But I hope that my influence will be felt in one thing and that is, in discountenancing the undignified methods employed by certain New York women to attract a following. They have given entertainments that belonged under a circus tent rather than in a gentlemen’s house.’¹⁴

In her later years, Mrs Astor would continue to attempt to bring New York back from the brink of excess but she was not so naive as to reject the new guard of society in doing so. She preferred to exert her influence from within. After so long keeping others on the sidelines, she knew how inconsequential that position could be. She would support Alva and Consuelo Vanderbilt for the time being, while continuing to entertain Willie K’s side of the Vanderbilt clan. She still believed that squabbles and divisions among the upper classes did not set a good example to those less educated in the nuances of respectability. And setting an impeccable example was something Mrs Astor would always do. She had set rigorous standards that New York had followed for a generation and that kind of influence was something she would never relinquish.