The Rich American in London Society

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XLIII, Issue 16, 20 October 1909, Page 42

The Rich American in London Society

By

JAMES L. FORD

THE COSTLY BUY INTERESTING EXPERIENCES OF CYRUS MONIBAGGE, THE NEVADA MILLIONAIRE, AND HIS WIFE AND DAUGHTERS, DURING THEIR CAMPAIGN FOR SOCIAL RECOGNITION IN THE BRITISH METROPOLIS. THE “London season,” which a quarter of a century ago had no interest for any but a very few rich and well-travelled Americans, has of late come to have such a familiar sound in their ears that it seems almost as if it were one of their native institutions. The Atlantic cable, which in a simpler and elder day concerned itself not at all with social news, now vibrates with an ever-increasing burden of fashionable tidings—tidings in which the names of their countrymen, and particularly of their countrywomen, play a part that is constantly growing in importance. .Indeed, according to the cabled accounts of what is going on in London, the American woman occupies a social position in England which is second to none. As hostess, as the entertainer of royalty, as a favourite member of the most aristocratic and exclusive circles in the British capital, they are continually assured that she throws even the most beautiful and Channing Englishwomen into the shade. The Sunday newspapers describe her elaborate dinners and her still more elaborate balls; and tell how all London competes for the privilege of invitation to them. Should slje cherish matrimonial ambitions either for herself or for her daughters,' she has but ,to choose from about half a dozen holders of ancient and honourable names who are suing for her favour. Nowhere in all America are the'eabled reports of London happenings read With more fervent interest than in the households of those newly enriched families, who are just beginning to turn their eyes societyward. A' few years ago these same families would have looked to New York as the one accessible social’ paradise. Now, thanks to the illumination afforded by the ocean cables, the social heights of the British capital, gilded as •they are with the glamour of aristocracy and royalty, seem so much loftier, so much better worth while, and at the same time so much easier to climb, that New York sinks in their dreams from its old station of first importance to that of a mere stopping-place on the eastward journey. The Monibagges of Nevada. The seed of social ambition thus sown lever took deeper root, or sent up plants

of more vigorous growth, than in the household of Cyrus Monibagge, whose thirty years of labour in the auriferous fields of Nevada have placed him well up in the list of Western millionaires. No sooner is the old gold miner’s place in the plutocracy of his native land firmly established than Mrs. Monibagge, who has been a diligent student of society chronicles ever since her eldest daughter discarded pinafores, begins to hint to her husband that he really ought to give the girls a few social advantages while they are young. The “old man” yields to his wife’s demand, as he has yielded to

every demand she has made upon him during their quarter of a century of married life. In all innocence—for, unlike his wife and daughters the elder Monibagge is not a close student of society news —he suggests that a winter in Chicago, which is within comparatively easy reach of the seat of his own operations, will afford the girls ample opportunity for acquiring that social polish which his wife regards as essential to their well-being. “Chicago!” exclaim the wife and the two daughters, in one contemptuous sniff. “You’re always behind the times, daddy, if you think Chicago will do for us!” “But New York is so durned far off,” pleads the old man. “New York!” cry the others, with increasing contempt. ‘ That place has been wiped off the map. For us it’s London or nothing!”

Kindly, hard-fisted, grizzled old American that he is, Monibagge capitulates, simply because he wants his wife and children to have the best that the world affords. So it happens that with the very earliest breath of spring, the Monibagges engage a suite at one of the costliest hotels in the English metropolis. They enter upon their social compaign equipped with almost limitless wealth and a feverish anxiety to spend it, a sublime selfconfidence, and the sort of knowledge of London and its ways that can be gained from American newspapers and novels of “The Duchess.” At first they are a little disappointed to find themselves regarded, even in the hotel, where their immense wealth is known, with absolute indifference and unconcern. But before the end of the second week they chance to make the acquaintance of a fellow guest, that somewhat passee mid-Victorian beauty, the Hon. Mrs. Grafte, whose cordial advances greatly delight them. She “simply dotes on all you bright, clever Americans,” and fairly dazzles her new friends by the easy and familiar manner in which she bandies about the names of her titled acquaintances. An hour spent with this truly charming Englishwoman

is a swift succession of glimpsek at the life in which the people from Nevada long to have a part. As their eyes distend and their tongues grow still under the magic spell of her aristocratic talk, the Hon. Mrs Grafte mentally calculates how much these confiding and unsophisticated Westerners will be worth to her during the season. The Monibagge Court in Park Lane. Through her kindly offices they are enabled to secure a furnished house in Park Lane, beautifully adapted to entertaining, for the modest price of five thousand pounds for the season; and it is the Hon. Airs Grafte herself who helps them to engage a domestic staff, consisting of: An imposing personage in black, called the groom of the chambers, famous for his taste in stage-managing private ent- x -;„,-.-,r>nts. grouping footmen effectively, and decorating tables and rooms

with flowers. He is particularly succee*. ful in completely covering the walls of the huge drawingroom on the first floor, with cut roses at a cost of several hundred pounds. This functionary brings with him six magnificent footmen, who have thoroughly mastered the difficult art of passing a name along from lip to lip without mutilation or distortion, and who may be credited with many other polite accomplishments befitting their, highly important station. A butler of imperturbable gravity and. dignity, who has two or three blackcoated subordinates to aid him in his labours, and who assumes an importance in the household only slightly inferior to that of the groom of the chambers. Whilst serving at the table, ha directs the movements of the splendid footmen by an almost imperceptible nod. To his care are intrusted the keys of the cellar, and his first duty is to lay in such a stock of wines and spirits as he considers suitable for a gentleman’s house. A housekeeper, respectable enough in appearance to turn milk sour, who looks after the linen, who has charge of all the women servants, and who sees that the rooms are properly cleaned and aired and the bedrooms put in order. She has a little maid to wait on her, and controls a staff of half-a-dozen housemaids. A French chef, who wears white from top to toe while on duty, and takes his afternoon walks abroad wearing two decorations and looking like a marshall of the empire. He buys all the meats, vegetables, fish, and other kitchen supplies, and commands a force of six assistants, three of whom are scullery maids, for the amount of dish-washing necessary in. such a house is enormous. A lady’s maid for each of the women of the family, and a valet apiece for Monibagge and his two sons. All these high functionaries of the Alonibagge court dine in the steward’s room, the butler and the chef taking particular pains to see that no one suffers from lack of the best. There is a second table for the footmen and the other under-servants, and even a third for the scullery maids, who are not regarded as the social equals of the beings in livery, or of the housemaids who rank as the females of their species. There is, moreover, a stable with two staffs of coachmen and grooms, one for night and the other for-day service. The Strategy of Mrs. Grafte. While the work of engaging the servants and stocking the house with a supply of food and drink is going on, the Hon. Mrs Grafte is assiduous in her attentions, going herself with Mrs Monfbagge to West End shops, and recommending the American lady to her own dressmaker, milliner, and florist. Now that the establishment is formed, she shows herself a true friend by asking Mrs Alonibagge and her daughters to meet a few friends of her own—'Major Spender of His Alajesty’s Seventeenth Jjeg-Fullers; (Ladyf iCl'utch; the Hon. Bertie Broke, of Hardup Towers, Ded-bete-on-the Blink; and a few others, all well-bred, well-connected, and remarkable for their enthusiasm over “dear old America” and “all you bright, clever, successful Americans.” The very next day every member of this most desirable and aristocratic circle leaves a card at the great house in Park. Lane, and Airs Monibagge and her daughters compla-

eently declare that “these high-toned English 'people can give cards and spades to those stuck-up snobs in New York on style and manners, and what’s more, they know refined Americans when they see them without waiting to be told!” Before the week is out the Hon. Mrs Grafte calls, bringing with her her sister, the Countess of Nervine, who is also charmed with Mrs Monibagge. The Countess takes an immediate fancy to the youngest Miss Monibagge, who happens by the merest chance to be only three months younger than her own son, heir

to the paternal title, and known by the Courtesy title of Lord Gaul. Lady Nervine is so pleased with her new friends that she declares that she really must have Mrs Monibagge to help her in her stall at the grand fancy bazaar in aid of the Lying-Down Hospital for WellConnected Indolents. “You know,” she explains sweetly, “our (royalties are so fond of you clever 'Americans that they won’t even stop at a stall unless there’s one of you there to sell something to them. Besides, you’re so awfully generous that it seems a real pleasure to you to help along any of our poor little charities!” Mrs Monibagge, with her heart all a Butter at the bare thought of coming into personal contact with royalty, and already seeing visions of a crimson carpet stretched across the pavement and up the steps of her new home, gladly Consents to aid in the good work. She must certainly have a new dress for such an important function, and the Hon. Mrs Grafte goes with her in the carriage (to help her select one. The Grand Charity Bazaar. A few days before the opening of the bazaar, Mrs Monibagge receives an invitation to lunch with Lady Nervine, and go to look at some things in a Bondstreet shop. “My dear,” exclaims the peeress enthusiastically, as the two women enter the carriage after a delightful intimate tete-a-tete talk, “I have already a wonderful idea for you. I have been so

afraid that somebody else would get ahead of you that I could scarcely sleep last night! You know all our royalties are just frantic over old laces. So is thß Duchess of Goodwood—she’s coming flb the bazaar, and she’s the most important woman in London, of course next to our dear queen, who will very likely be there, too. Well, I’ve just heard that the dear Countess of Malacca has met with some awful losses, and is going to dispose of her entire collection of Brussels and old point in one lot at a private sale. It’s the opportunity of your life!” “A collection of lace!” says Mrs. Monibagge, innocently. “Why, I never made • collection of anything in my life. I

shouldn’t know what to do with it if I did buy it.” “Not for yourself, of course, my dear,” says Lady Nervine, “but for the'bazaar. Why, if you were to buy that collection find spread it out on our stall, you’d find yourself such a centre of attraction that you’d be known from one end of society to the other before the afternoon was over!” Once more Mrs. Monibagge sees herself in a vision; this time as the centre of a group in which are the queen, one or two royal princesses, the Duchess of

Goodwood, and a few lesser deities of the London social world. Still seeing this vision, she is led into the Bond-street ehop where the laces are displayed—and in which they were collected —and the costly purchase is made. The bazaar proves a great success, and Lady Nervine’s prophecy is fulfilled, for Mrs. Monibagge’s name is a topic of conversation at scores of distinguished din-ner-tables that very night, while she herself entertains the members of her own family with a recital of the gracious manner in which the princess examined the laces and ordered some of the old point to be sent to the palace. The Monibagge fame certainly travels fast from this moment, for within two days the nominal head of the family receives a note, written on paper adorned with a gilt coronet, and signed with the name of a well-known peer, inviting him to a great dinner to be given in a fashionable hotel in aid of a famous London charity—an invitation which is promptly and joyfully accepted. “It’s very good of you to come,” says the hospitable peer, beaming pleasantly upon his new-made American acquaintance. “I’m to preside, you know, and you’ll be called on to respond to the toast of the ladies. Oil, you mustn’t say no; there’s not one of you bright, clever Americans who can’t make a speech at a moment’s notice, and we’re al! such awful duffers at that sort of thing over here, you know. I shall put you at my table, between the Earl of Gravesend and Lord Tilbury.” His lordship pauses to jot down his guest’s name, and possibly to note the grin of delight that suffuses his face at the sound of the titles. “By the way,” continues the peer, “Gravesend and Tilbury are down for five hundred guineas apiece. I suppose I may as well write that amount opposite your name? Yes? Thank you very much indeed!” . lAs Mr. Monibagge takes his seat at the table, between two well-groomed, stiff-mannered members of the House of Lords he murmurs to himself: —■ “They come high, but we must have them! ” And so the season rolls on. bringing with it new friends for the Monibagges, invitations to great functions, and the acquaintanceship of scores of more or less “desirable” men and women. Most gratifying of all, accounts of their social triumphs arc cabled to the American newspapers. Mrs. Monibagge has taken care that the Press both of London and the United States shall bo kept fully informed as to their coinings ami goings. An Unfortunate Misunderstanding. About the end of .Tune, Lord Gaul proposes to the eldest daughter, and is accepted, but before the engagement is announced, old Monibagge has the question of pecuniary settlement laid down to him with such cold-blooded candour that his soul revolts at the thought of turning over the daughter whom he loves to an individual of such heartless

avarice, and he refuses poiutblank to bind himself by any promises whatever. Lord Gaul thereupon withdraws with much dignity from his position as a suitor. The next day Lady Nervine gives Mrs. Monibagge and her daughters the cut direct in Hyde Park; and the Hon. Mrs. Grafte, cheated out of the handsome commission that would have been hers had the marriage taken place, hardly dares to trust herself to speak to them for fully a week. Meanwhile, a report is set afloat in society that old Monibagge is by no means the rich man he is supposed to be—else why should he refuse to accede to the very moderate demands of sueh an eligible parti as Lord Gaul? As the rumour gains credence, the Americans become conscious of a coldness in the atmosphere that they had not noticed before. It is true that Bertie Broke and his well-groomed, well-eonnected crew still hang about the house, always ready to eat and drink and suggest new ways for the spending of money. It is true that after a few days of cold reserve the Hon. Mrs. Grafte puts herself once more in evidence, though she tells Mrs. Monibagge, in confidence, of her fears that their treatment of the young man will head off other eligible offers. It is true, also, that the tradesmen, the impecunious young men, the dignified butler, the white-capped chef, and the magnificent footmen are just as deferential and as eager to please as before; but it is equally true that a great many of those who were more than civil early in the season now regard their Transatlantic friends with a suspicion and disapproval of which the latter cannot remain long oblivious. The End of the Campaign. Mrs. Monibagge, who has not been altogether unobservant during her four months’ campaign in the London field, is the first to scent the breath of hostility in what had seemed but yesterday to be a favouring breeze of popularity. “My dear,” she says to her husband, as they drive through Hyde Park about a fortnight after the dismissal of Lord Gaul, “don’t you think it would be nice to go back home again?” “Do you mean it?” he demands eagerly. “Yes? Well, to tell the truth, I’m so sick of all this business here that I’d give half a year’s output to get back to Nevada. What’s more, I think we’ve got a chance now to retire gracefully that we may not have if we stay here much longer.” “You’re quite right,” admits Mrs. Monibagge, with a sigh. A fortnight later the oeean cable carries the news that “Mr. and Mrs. Cyrus Monibagge, of Nevada, whose house in Park-lane has been the scene of some of the most brilliant entertainments of the season, will sail for New York on the Kaiser Wilhelm early in August, to be followed a fortnight later by the. other members of the family, who are making a brief tour of the Continent. It will be remembered that the elder Miss Monibagge was reported engaged to Lord Gaul, heir to the earldom of Nervine. Of late she has often been seen in company with the young Earl of .Stillton, whose coming of age was celebrated at the family place in Wessex last winter.” And so the great retinue of servants is discharged, and the house turned over to its rightful owner, after a preposterous bill for breakage of glass and furniture and damage to the premises has been settled: and the Monibagges start on their homeward journey. Before they are fairlv on their way. the great tide of London life has closed over the gap loft bv their going, and all traces of the “dash” that they thought they were cutting in London society have been completely obliterated. Mrs. Grafte,

Bertie Broke, Lord Gaul, and all th* rest of the well-connected vultures have sought other pastures; while Mr. and Mrs. Monibagge, sitting in their steamer chairs, realise that they have spent nearly a-quarter of a million dollars, and have little to show for it, except an immense stock of clothes —which will never do for Nevada —and their social experience. “Any way,” says Mrs. Monibagge, “the papers printed so much about us that everybody will know what a figure we cut in London society!” The gods are sometimes merciful. The Monibagges are enrolled in that vast army of Americans who fancy that they are or have been in English society, and so long as they live they will be permitted to cherish the delusion.