One who reads this book through will have as rough a mental journey as his physical nature would undergo in riding over a corduroy road in an old stage-coach. It makes no pretension to either scholarship or elegant diction.
No, dear readers, that is not a disclaimer for my blog, although you can be forgiven for asking the question.
Is anyone surprised that I’m one of the millions of people enjoying “The Gilded Age” on HBO? I didn’t think so. I was particularly delighted by actor Nathan Lane’s recent appearance as Ward McAllister, gatekeeper of 19th-century high society.
Naturally, I wanted to know more about a man contemporary sources describe as:
. . . a lawyer without practice, a free-luncher by instinct and a dancer by occupation.
– The New York Star, quoted in the New Zealand Mail, June 7, 1889
Here was a historical figure ripe for a blog post. Imagine my delight when I discovered he wrote a digitized, text searchable, freely available memoir called Society as I have Found It! Imagine my disappointment when I realized it’s not so much a memoir as a how-to guide for social climbers and a lengthy account of every successful party he ever threw and/or attended.
In between racist and sexist commentary, he writes rapturous descriptions of the meals he ate. Let’s all take a moment to be grateful he was born in an era before Instagram. He’s also the worst namedropper I’ve come across since Madame Palatine—and he doesn’t even have the decency to gossip about them. Instead, it’s one fawning anecdote after another.
However, I can confirm he lives up to his reputation as a character. If any of you are still reading after a buildup like that, I present Ward McAllister as I Have Found Him.
I well remember my first fancy ball. . . A legacy of a thousand dollars paid me by the New York Life Insurance and Trust Company I expended in a fancy dress, which I flattered myself was the handsomest and richest at the ball.
♪ You’re so vain. ♪ You probably think this ball is about you.
John Van Buren. . . insisted on my dining with him that day at the Union Club, to meet Lord Hartington, and his brother, Lord Edward Cavendish. . . I declined, as I had no dress-suit in the city, but he would not take no for an answer.
Rookie mistake. You need a more convincing excuse to wiggle out of social plans. Personally, I suggest “a pandemic.”
“My dear man,” he said, “it will be an event in your life to meet these distinguished men. Jump in the first train, return to your country home, and get your dress-coat. By all means you must not miss my dinner.”
As. . . no one could send me my spike-tail coat as they call it at the South, I took a way train and consumed the entire day getting the necessary outfit, and returning with it to the city.
However, I admit that fashion expertise occasionally comes in handy.
American society is agitated over the great question whether the Earl of Craven, on his wedding day, did or did not wear his trousers turned up. In order to relieve the public mind, a prominent newspaper sent a representative to Ward McAllister, the great authority on social matters, and this eminent person has given it as his opinion that the earl did not intend to go through the ceremony with his trousers turned up, but simply forgot to turn them down when he arrived at the church.
Who says Ward isn’t a contributing member of society? (Besides me.)
Horrible Horticulturist
After my marriage I took up my residence in Newport, buying a farm on Narragansett Bay and turning farmer in good earnest. I planted out 10,000 trees on that farm and then went to Europe to let them grow, expecting a forest on my return, but I found only one of them struggling for existence three years later.
At that period I worshiped doctors; my theory then was that you owed your existence to them, that they kept you in the world, and not to have a doctor within call was to place yourself in danger of immediate and sudden death. . .
This doctor made a new man of me. “Throw physic to the dogs,” was his motto; “you will never die: you will in the end have to be shot to get you out of the world; air and exercise is all you want: eat slowly and do not deluge yourself with water at dinner.” Of water he had a holy horror. “Drink what good wine you wish and let water alone.”
Since the book details practically every glass of wine Ward ever drank, I can affirm he followed this advice to the letter.
Amusing Acquaintance
The next great social event that I recall was the great fancy ball given by the Schermerhorns. . . All the guests were asked to appear in the costume of the period of Louis XV. . .
The men in tights and silk stockings, for the first time in their lives, became jealous of each other’s calves, and in one instance, a friend of mine, on gazing at the superb development in this line of a guest, doubted nature’s having bestowed such generous gifts on him; so, to satisfy himself, he pricked his neighbor’s calf with his sword, actually drawing blood, but the possessor of the fine limbs never winced; later on he expressed forcibly his opinion of the assault. By not wincing the impression that he had aided nature was confirmed.
His only regret upon leaving this life probably was that he could not take his cardcase with him and would be under the painful necessity of entering heaven unintroduced.
– The Buffalo Enquirer, quoted in the Madisonian, March 16, 1895
I’m also not the only one who’s sick of it:
Ward McAllister (says a Yankee paper) rather approves of hoopskirts. Let Ward have any kind of monkey cage he prefers if It will stop him from chattering.
As prestigious as it would be, if Ward sends me a dinner invitation, I’m afraid I’ll have to decline. After all, I have nothing decent to wear. However, I’ll gladly watch him on the next episode of “The Gilded Age”—just as long as the camera cuts away when he starts talking about his famous friends.
Did you click through Facebook or Twitter? We got lucky—don’t let social media algorithms keep you from seeing a post! Save yourself a click, and subscribe to have stories delivered to your inbox as soon as they’re published.
Disclaimer: The modern era is far from the first to grapple with rampant “fake news.” As I am neither a historian nor journalist, I make no claims about the accuracy or lack thereof of the above sources. I assert only that they make for a good story.
You have to give him credit for having the unparalleled flexibility and dexterity to blow so much smoke up his own ass. Must have been some amazing Victorian yoga.
Elyse
😂 Victorians weren’t as rigid as we thought!
Marilyn Canna
Can’t say we’ve been following The Gilded Age (except its less than stellar reviews—ha); we’re still catching up with The Crown. However, we do try to follow the rising career of a certain talented blogger who will soon find herself working in the beating, if perhaps not social, heart of the EU. (Got the news from your mom at St Vincent’s!) We’re so proud of you! Traveling abroad this spring, we plan to visit Brussels and hope we can say hello. Marilyn & Jan Costenbader
Elyse
Marilyn, I’m blushing! Thank you so much for the kind words and support, both for the blog and this new adventure. I would LOVE to see your smiling faces on the other side of the Atlantic! Please keep me posted, and I’ll do the same. I’ll scout out the best Belgian waffle places for us to check out! ❤️
Ward McAllister
My Dear Miss Blogger, I have followed your essays with considerable amusement for some time, and it is with delight that I discover my name in one of your recent pieces. You do me great service in making my name once again known to the luminaires who follow your literary efforts. In the era during which I labored, people suffered from the delusion that their thoughts and actions somehow mattered. Were it not for insightful thinkers such as myself, this heresy would still persist. You will no doubt agree that the decades since my demise have vindicated my viewpoints entirely; style trumps substance in almost every human endeavour: philosophy, letters, music, art, sciences, commerce, romance, and statecraft especially. Thank you once again. I could enlighten you further but must make ready for a dinner engagement which Andrew Warhol, Oscar Wilde, and Thomas Wolfe will also be in attendance. Sincerely, Ward McAllister, via séance PS. Would you be so kind as to dispose of the rude caricature? Ears such as those have been out of fashion for centuries, save on midsummer nights.
Elyse
Dear Sir,
I’m flattered beyond words at your kind attention to my scribblings and your thoughtful note. I found your memoirs to be a captivating work of literature. Considering the manifold achievements you so modestly recounted, I despair at how quickly a renowned name such as your has been forgotten. It is both a duty and a pleasure to restore your reputation to its rightful heights.
You were a gentleman ahead of your time. Indeed, my essays, as you so generously describe them, bear witness to those foolish notions that you so skillfully extirpate. Style has never been more important, and it is a great shame that so few have had the privilege of learning from the words you so eloquently committed to paper.
My sincerest apologies for the offensive depiction. Rest assured, I have lodged a formal complaint through that rag’s official Twitter account.
Do please give my regards to those fine gentlemen. Should you come across a certain Samuel Clemens at the same engagement, I would be eternally in your debt if you would be so kind as to share with him my work. He is rather a literary hero of mine–but I could never, of course, admire him as I do you.
Yours with esteem, Elyse Blogger
Ward McAllister
Dear Miss Blogger,
I return your compliments. Your work is widely read, discussed, and admired among those of us of who fondly remember La Belle Époque.
While I have encountered Mr. Clemens, or ‘Twain’ as he styles himself, I am not intimate with him. Frankly, I do not admire his work, which violates the first principle of letters; namely, that a true man of literature should never require any kind of independent thought of his readers. As an aside, mutual acquaintances assure me that he frequently associates with those awful Russians. I would instead recommend the work of Trollope, my close friend and confidant.
On another matter, the caricature may remain on your page. After all, one should never fail to take advantage of an opportunity to appear magnanimous.
I remain your magnanimous servant, Ward McAllister, via séance
Welcome to Second Glance History! This blog seeks to uncover the people and the stories forgotten by history and give them another read through a modern lens. Join me every week as we examine the differences that divide and the common threads that connect the then to the now.
You have to give him credit for having the unparalleled flexibility and dexterity to blow so much smoke up his own ass. Must have been some amazing Victorian yoga.
😂 Victorians weren’t as rigid as we thought!
Can’t say we’ve been following The Gilded Age (except its less than stellar reviews—ha); we’re still catching up with The Crown. However, we do try to follow the rising career of a certain talented blogger who will soon find herself working in the beating, if perhaps not social, heart of the EU. (Got the news from your mom at St Vincent’s!) We’re so proud of you! Traveling abroad this spring, we plan to visit Brussels and hope we can say hello.
Marilyn & Jan Costenbader
Marilyn, I’m blushing! Thank you so much for the kind words and support, both for the blog and this new adventure. I would LOVE to see your smiling faces on the other side of the Atlantic! Please keep me posted, and I’ll do the same. I’ll scout out the best Belgian waffle places for us to check out! ❤️
My Dear Miss Blogger,
I have followed your essays with considerable amusement for some time, and it is with delight that I discover my name in one of your recent pieces. You do me great service in making my name once again known to the luminaires who follow your literary efforts.
In the era during which I labored, people suffered from the delusion that their thoughts and actions somehow mattered. Were it not for insightful thinkers such as myself, this heresy would still persist. You will no doubt agree that the decades since my demise have vindicated my viewpoints entirely; style trumps substance in almost every human endeavour: philosophy, letters, music, art, sciences, commerce, romance, and statecraft especially.
Thank you once again. I could enlighten you further but must make ready for a dinner engagement which Andrew Warhol, Oscar Wilde, and Thomas Wolfe will also be in attendance.
Sincerely,
Ward McAllister, via séance
PS. Would you be so kind as to dispose of the rude caricature? Ears such as those have been out of fashion for centuries, save on midsummer nights.
Dear Sir,
I’m flattered beyond words at your kind attention to my scribblings and your thoughtful note. I found your memoirs to be a captivating work of literature. Considering the manifold achievements you so modestly recounted, I despair at how quickly a renowned name such as your has been forgotten. It is both a duty and a pleasure to restore your reputation to its rightful heights.
You were a gentleman ahead of your time. Indeed, my essays, as you so generously describe them, bear witness to those foolish notions that you so skillfully extirpate. Style has never been more important, and it is a great shame that so few have had the privilege of learning from the words you so eloquently committed to paper.
My sincerest apologies for the offensive depiction. Rest assured, I have lodged a formal complaint through that rag’s official Twitter account.
Do please give my regards to those fine gentlemen. Should you come across a certain Samuel Clemens at the same engagement, I would be eternally in your debt if you would be so kind as to share with him my work. He is rather a literary hero of mine–but I could never, of course, admire him as I do you.
Yours with esteem,
Elyse Blogger
Dear Miss Blogger,
I return your compliments. Your work is widely read, discussed, and admired among those of us of who fondly remember La Belle Époque.
While I have encountered Mr. Clemens, or ‘Twain’ as he styles himself, I am not intimate with him. Frankly, I do not admire his work, which violates the first principle of letters; namely, that a true man of literature should never require any kind of independent thought of his readers. As an aside, mutual acquaintances assure me that he frequently associates with those awful Russians. I would instead recommend the work of Trollope, my close friend and confidant.
On another matter, the caricature may remain on your page. After all, one should never fail to take advantage of an opportunity to appear magnanimous.
I remain your magnanimous servant,
Ward McAllister, via séance