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 NEW-Y ORK: 
 PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR, 
 
 AND FOR SALE BY THE PRINCIPAL BOOKSELLERS. 
 
 1853. 
 
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WALKS 
 
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 THE FIFTH AVENUE, 
 
 BY 
 
 CARLO LEONE. 
 
 A NEW YEAR'S GIFT TO THE GRACE CIIUKCII CONGREGATION* . 
 
 N E W -YORK: 
 PUBLISHED FOR THE A IT I [OR, 
 
 AND FOR SALE BY THE PRINCIPAL BOOKSELLERS 
 
 1853. 
 
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 FIFTH AVENUE. 
 
WALKS 
 
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 FIFTH AVENUE. 
 
 JAN. 1. NEW YORK. NO. 1. 
 
 "The abstract hatred and scorn of vice implies the capacity for 
 virtue. The impatience expressed at the most striking instances of 
 deformity, proves the innate idea, and love of beauty, in the human 
 mind." — HazUtt. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 WHEREIN THE AUTHOR INTRODUCES HIMSELF, HIS FRIEND, AND 
 OTHER PEOPLE, WHOM THE READER MAY RECOGNISE. 
 
 It was one of tlio loveliest Spring mornings, 
 succeeding a number of dark days, during winch 
 rain and sunshine had held alternate sway. The 
 sun shone forth friendly-looking down upon the 
 inhabitants of our little earth, and instilling its 
 invigorating influence throughout the universe. 
 
6 WALKS THROUGH 
 
 It was one of those days on which the ladies ex- 
 pedite their morning meal, to make preparations for 
 a nice little walk, and to fulfil the engagements 
 which have accumulated upon their hands ; when 
 Broadway is crowded, and the side-walks offer the 
 most beautiful picture of American life, and Ameri- 
 can beauty; when a hundred friendly greetings 
 are given and received, and a pleasing forgetfulness 
 of the chill winter blast pervades the inner and 
 adorns the outward man. 
 
 It was upon that very morning when I, leaving 
 my home, directed my steps towards Broadway, 
 (that great and only rival of London's Regent street,) 
 with the intention of joining the passing throng 
 that enlivened its sidewalk, when I felt suddenly 
 my hand warmly shaken, and encountered the 
 serene and happy face of an old friend. 
 
 "Is it really you, my dear friend," he exclaimed; 
 " and shall I have the good fortune of si)ending 
 with you an agreeable morning like this, which the 
 gods have evidently set apart for joy and pleasure ? 
 Let me lead you, then." And without giving me 
 
THE FIFTH AYENTJE. 7 
 
 time to answer, lie had put his arm in mine, and be- 
 gan to speak of something else. 
 
 Resigning myself entirely to his guidance, I 
 was pleased when 1 saw him direct his steps 
 toward the Fifth Avenue ; for, as I was often 
 told before, Fifth Avenue was the street of aris- 
 tocracy ; the street of blood ; the street, as my 
 friend very emphatically remarked, " where beauty 
 is displayed, admired, and selected ; through which 
 courses the refined stream, whose fountain-head is 
 traceable to a Dutch Patroon, or an English Noble- 
 man. Let other people speak about their Parks, 
 their Boulevards^ their Bastions, their Glacis" he 
 continued, " and let even our own people praise 
 their Gramercy Square, their Fourteenth street — • 
 with its twofold attraction of a view on the East 
 and North River — there is only one spot on which 
 beauty erects her throne, and where refinement 
 wields her sceptre — one Fifth Avenue." And this, 
 dear reader, shall be the field of our observations 
 for the next two hours. 
 
 But before proceeding further, allow me to ac- 
 
8 WALKS THKOUGH 
 
 . quaint you with the two individuals whom you are 
 invited to accompany on their philosophical pro- 
 menade. 
 
 Who I am, is of no consequence. Just imagine 
 a discreet and retiring foreigner, fresh from Europe, 
 to learn American customs, and to forget European 
 Bepublicanism ; a man whom neither ladies of 
 fashion nor men of business care for, as he has no 
 beautifully curled moustache, which would win the 
 smile of the first, nor those bank certificates, which 
 would secure the hand-shakes of the last. Suffice 
 it to say that I am no Hungarian Governor ; no 
 Polish lady of high birth ; no French Count, . nor 
 even a newly arrived English lecturer ; in short, 
 it would be of little interest to know me, and I 
 shall simply give my name as " Leone." Of much 
 more consequence, however, is it to know my friend, 
 commonly called Dick, but whose real name is 
 Galignanis. lie is a gentleman very plebeian in 
 person and dress. His origin is almost as fabulous 
 as that of ancient Rome or Carthage. Like them, 
 he sometimes borrows nobility, from the uncertainty 
 
THE FIFTH AVENUE. 9 
 
 of fable, and his own story of his descent is as clear 
 as a mythological mystery. 
 
 Modern historians, however, being mere matter- 
 of-fact people, and looking for the origin of great 
 men among the respectable trade of the community, 
 have traced his fountain-head to the " hat," and 
 selected his progenitor from among the honest 
 inventors of the masculine head-gear. This fact 
 may account for his being seen so constantly in the 
 streets of New York, as there he is certainly dis- 
 playing his father's best manufacture to the greatest 
 advantage. 
 
 Of his high ancestry G. is not proud. He bows 
 to everybody to whom he is introduced, even to the 
 father of some young lady whose title to $100,000 
 is clear and indisputable, to be paid down upon 
 the day of her marriage. And his only dis-advan-. 
 tage is, that lie labors under an optical difficulty, 
 which prevents his recognition of an intimate friend 
 who, by some sudden change of circumstances, 
 has been obliged to dispose of his equipage or 
 retrench his fashionable expenses. Mr. Gr, can 
 
10 WALKS THKOITGH 
 
 talk upon everything. He is a living book — a 
 breathing volume — a talking-machine, as a pretty 
 young lady calls him with a great deal of truth. 
 Mention a book — Mr. G. lauds it to the sky, or 
 condemns it to everlasting disgrace, just as he 
 finds your opinion. Speak of the last Opera — ■ 
 the last Concert — the French Vaudeville — Mcllle. 
 Caroline Loyo. He has seen and heard everything 
 — read all the critiques — and by his peculiar at- 
 tractions in conversation, he is naturally a favorite 
 of those ladies who dread that pause in the gossip 
 of an evening, when none of the parties can re- 
 sume the thread of scandal ; when every tongue 
 rests suddenly, and the conversants look into each 
 other's face in mournful silence. A really sensible 
 woman would be afraid of Mr. G.'s conversation, 
 while he will charm the ignorant, who mistakes his 
 forward impertinence for style, and his confident 
 assertions for knowledge. " Have you been at the 
 last matinee musicals of Mrs. ISTightowl, in Blue 
 street ?" is the first question he asks me. " Wasn't 
 it delightful ? — such singing — such playing Kew 
 
THE FIFTH AVENUE. 11 
 
 i r ork lias seldom witnessed. And how pretty Miss 
 M. looked — tlie daughter of my most intimate 
 friend, Mrs. L. There were only a few gentlemen 
 present ; in fact, I think we were only four. Only 
 the most intimate habitues de la maisonP And 
 this last is true. lie is a habitue de la malsori at 
 Mrs. Xightowl's, whose antecedents are of a similar 
 nature to those of Galignanis, yet w r ho by some 
 inconceivable means has secured an introduction 
 into good society, and by a very natural similarity 
 of habits has installed Galignanis in the enviable 
 position of her bosom friend. To him she is at 
 home at all hours ; and refreshes her morning las- 
 situde in listening to the scandalous gossip which 
 Mr. G. makes it his -business to collect. At these 
 meetings the two worthy individuals rear a fabric 
 of falsehood upon some slight foundation of truth, 
 and direct the public attention to it as an evidence 
 of* honest people's demerits. At those meetings 
 stories are invented which bury the good name 
 and reputation of thousands — stories which, as I re- 
 marked, have some truth, but are pressed in a 
 
12 WALKS THROUGH 
 
 shape that renders the truth indiscernible, and are 
 the more dangerous. For rumors and gossip in 
 which there is no truth, may easily be contra- 
 dicted and refuted, but where the fact is true, the 
 honest motive, however, which led to it, is con- 
 cealed ; and where such facts, through malicious 
 additions and inventions, are deformed, there re- 
 mains nothing to the poor injured person who 
 loses his name and reputation by it. Do you want 
 to put a contradiction in the paper, and give pub- 
 licity to the name of a person whom you respect? 
 Such is the way, dear reader, in which Mrs. Night- 
 owl and Mr. Galignanis pass their mornings. And 
 let me tell you, in a perfectly serious moment, that 
 this short description is not merely a dream from 
 the author's brain, but is a true relation of facts. 
 But Mr. Galignanis, is not only the habitue of Mrs. 
 Nightowl's, he is the beloved friend of a hundred 
 other families. With a smile for every one, and a 
 fawning, sycophantic manner of offering his courte- 
 sies to those whose favors he expects, he is right 
 in the belief that humility to the vain, and flattery 
 
THE FIFTH AVENUE. 13 
 
 to the weak points of our friends, are the two 
 great principles in the doctrine of manners, by 
 which we progress in life and grow strong in its 
 Ways. But you ask, dear reader, how I can be 
 intimate with a man whose character I have de- 
 scribed ? Let me state, therefore, briefly, that dur- 
 ing a residence in Paris I contracted an intimacy 
 With a young American of good family, who, hear- 
 ing of my intention of visiting America, wrote me 
 a letter of introduction to Mr. Galignanis. " Go 
 to him," he said, " and you will see everything.' 
 lie will spare you the expense of a guide, and 
 prove a capital finger-post in directing you to the 
 fashionable localities and celebrities of my native 
 Gotham." And so it was. 
 
 There is nothing easier on earthy than to secure 
 an entree to New York society. 
 
 Do not suppose, dear reader, that I refer to the 
 real good society of your city, which is certainly as 
 fastidious in i ts tastes, as refined in its accmirenients, 
 and as exclusive in its members, as the society of 
 any European city. Education, of course, begets 
 
 9 
 
14 WALKS THROUGH 
 
 the same sound, social feeling, all over the world — 
 producing refinement wherever it is received, and 
 engendering real elegance wherever it predominates. 
 I say it with sincerity. The educated society of 
 New York, whose pretensions (if they can be called 
 pretensions) are traced all to the most legitimate 
 sources, is inferior to no society on earth. To 
 such society, of course, the entree is not so easily 
 attained ; but to that phase of fashionable circles 
 which arrogates to itself the first position of social 
 life, and supports its presumption by a splendid 
 show of equipage, a vulgar glare of costly furniture, 
 and an uncomfortable series of crowded parties, 
 all maintained by the proceeds of successful rib- 
 bon sales or unscrupulous land speculations, in the 
 course of which three failures, with their consequent 
 compromises, are discernible, the vulgar may at 
 all times be admitted; as they possess the require- 
 ments which vulgarity, aping elegance, demands 
 of them. 
 
 The very circumstance that the fashionable so- 
 ciety is composed of such people, accounts for the 
 
THE FIFTn AVENUE. 15 
 
 facility with which you have access to it. They 
 cannot distinguish between real good manners and 
 vulgarity ; a well-dressed man, fixed up by his 
 tailor, is their ideal; if he has the happy idea to 
 wear his hat on the left ear, he is their god. A 
 man who dances well is the most estimable man 
 of society ; he gets invitations without number, 
 and all the young ladies are delighted to see 
 him. 
 
 It was, many an evening, when I came home 
 from a party, fatigued and most exhausted, not 
 by dancing, (for, unfortunately, my father was not 
 fashionable enough to have me taught this greatest 
 accomplishment of our days,) but by efforts I had 
 to make to press myself through the intense crowd 
 which filled two small parlors — a work of consider- 
 able difficulty, and which reminded me of those 
 Russian vapor baths, so well known in Europe, 
 for their good effect upon the health — that I found, 
 after coming home, three or four invitations for the 
 same evening, which my worthy friend, Brown, 
 that sexton of the sextons, without whom Xew 
 
16 WALKS THROUGH 
 
 York would not be what it is; that undertaker 
 of things which none before him ever undertook, 
 left on my table. 
 
 But while I am speaking of that so-called fashion- 
 able society, I cannot leave unmentioned another 
 class, which constitutes the real and only existing 
 aristocracy, that of mind and intelligence, whose 
 members having retired to their comfortable, though 
 not hyperluxurious houses, are not imitating every- 
 thing that is French ; are not importing their hats and 
 bonnets from France; are not driving in box-covered 
 carriages, with two men attending behind in livery 
 and waiting upon them ; who do not think that 
 an article is bad on account of its being American ; 
 who are not going to leave these shores, and to 
 live in Paris and Naples, because New York is 
 not fashionable enough. I speak of those families 
 with a good old name, who are respectable, be- 
 cause they rely upon themselves. I speak of those 
 men, who, distinguished by their mind, sacrifice 
 their time and their talent to the welfare of this 
 great country ; on whom the United States look 
 
TttF FIFTH AVENtfF. 17 
 
 with pride, in the face of all Europe. Those men 
 and their families you meet sometimes in that 
 society I spoke of ; but what a difference in their 
 manners ; what a really good behavior, which is not 
 like the French, because it is superior to it, and is 
 original ! 
 
 And now, dear reader, excuse my digression 
 from the way I had entered. Let us go back to our 
 friend Galignanis, whom we left putting his arm in 
 mine, to take our morning walk. 
 
 We will not say anything more about him, as the 
 readers might be tired by too long a description, 
 and, besides, in the next two hours will have occa- 
 sion to judge about him themselves. We will only 
 add, that his walk is an eternal smile, an everlast- 
 ing bow, which is, however, varied according to the 
 importance of the persons we meet. " So you are 
 entirely established in JSTew York, my dear Leone, '* 
 Galignanis begins. "And you like the American 
 life, — and you think of spending here the whole, 
 summer until But is that not my most inti- 
 mate friend, Mrs. Peacock ?" he exclaims suddenly j 
 
18 WALKS THROUGH 
 
 and at the very instant, a lady of rather stylish 
 appearance, but whose features express pride, mal- 
 ice, heartlessness, and at the same time, the sin- 
 cere desire to conceal all those qualities by a 
 most graceful grimace, meets my eye. " This, 
 Leone, is my friend, Mrs. Peacock, the mother of the 
 same sweet-looking lady you admired so much at 
 our last matinee musicale. Look at the dignity in 
 her appearance. Have you such women in Paris ?" 
 and addressing me this question, he waited for an 
 answer. But I could not remember anything ; 
 I saw nothing but that cold face, with the ser- 
 pent-like expression. I saw those long black curls 
 falling over the thin cheeks, and giving an exact 
 picture of Macbeth's witch, where she sings : 
 
 11 1 will drain him dry as hay, 
 Sleep shall neither night nor day 
 IJang upon his pent-like lid," <fcc« 
 
 I had seen Madame LafFarge, who had poisoned 
 her husband. I was present at the famous trial in 
 Paris some years ago, where a mother had beaten 
 
THE FIFTH AVENUE. 19 
 
 her child until it was dead, but never was the ex- 
 pression in the face of any of those women to be 
 compared to that of Mrs. Peacock. 
 
 " O, I must introduce you," said Galignanis, with- 
 out remarking my horror. "Mrs. Peacock will 
 like you very much ; she likes anything that is 
 European, and told me very often that she would 
 leave, with pleasure, her husband and her children, 
 to go to Europe, and never come back to that 
 disagreeable place — ' that Republic,' where every 
 one is your equal ; where you are exposed to the in- 
 sult of those common people. * If my mother 
 dies/ she used to say, * I shall go ; nothing 
 will prevent me. I will have money then to live 
 independent, and I quit these United States for 
 ever!' " May she go, and never return to these 
 shores — this land of humanity and real freedom — 
 I thought by myself. 
 
 But, for the whole day, the dark expression of 
 those pernicious eyes ; the grinning smile of those 
 painted lips, would not leave my memory. How 
 
20 WALKS THROUGH 
 
 rightly I judged that woman's character, we will 
 see in some other chapter. But now to a friend- 
 lier picture. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 014 108 645 5 A 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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