Vanderbilt: The Rise and Fall of an American Dynasty

Here the authors explain how the Vanderbilts forced open the upper echelon of New York high society to finally become established as one of the top families. In the same year as the opening of the Metropolitan Opera House, the wife of one of the Commodore’s grandsons threw a ball that was the talk of the town such that the family could no longer be ignored. Their acceptance was never about having enough money; they had more than anyone else. Instead, it was about the recentness in which it was earned. The family had simply not been prominent long enough for the rules set by the self-appointed arbiters, Caroline Astor and Ward McAllister. Astor had determined that anyone in high society had to be at least two generations removed from the ancestor who had made the family fortune—and thus sullied his hands in labor. The Vanderbilt grandsons just fit that bill.

Two of Billy’s sons received the most attention and the bulk of the Vanderbilt money when he died in 1885. Billy was the only descendant of the Commodore to add to the family fortune, doubling it to over $200 million. Billy’s son Cornelius II, called “Corneil,” was the more business-minded and involved in the family’s companies. His younger brother William was “a party boy” (95), more attuned to the finer pleasures in life. Their wives, Alice and Alva, respectively, competed with each other to make a splash in the social scene and break Caroline Astor’s grip on it. It was Alva, with her costume ball in March 1883, who succeeded. It took place after the usual ball season had ended, and in the months leading up to it, Alva worked the press by dropping details to build anticipation.

According to the custom at the time, women of high society held open certain hours during the afternoon when they would accept visitors. All the “right families” knew when everyone else’s hours were and were driven in their carriages to pay a social call. Yet neither host nor guest actually expected to spend time together in the host’s home; more often than not the visitor would send her footman to the door with her calling card, where one of the host’s servants would accept on behalf of the host. This elaborate game thus established who “belonged” to high society. Because Caroline Astor had never called on Alva Vanderbilt, the latter did not plan to invite Astor’s daughter Carrie to her ball. This forced Mrs. Astor’s hand, and she reluctantly paid a call on Alva so her daughter would not be excluded from what promised to be the social event of the year.

When the day of the ball arrived, crowds of people who had read about it in the papers gathered in the streets near the Vanderbilt home to try to catch a glimpse of the attendees. The press was also out in force to report on every detail. Mrs. Astor herself attended with her daughter. She and Alva were both dressed as Venetian princesses, with Astor draped in diamond necklaces. As for Alva, she wore pearls that once belonged to Catherine the Great. At the time, pearls were the rarer item, as culturing had not been developed. Alva won acceptance into society and was invited to Mrs. Astor’s ball the first time the following year. Alva supposedly spent $250,000 (worth over $6 million today) on the event. Next to an article on the party in the New York Times, the authors note, was a report on the recovery of 72 bodies from a mining disaster in Illinois. The state set aside $10,000 (about $268,000 at the time of the book’s publication) to distribute among all the families of the victims.

This chapter is about the marriage of Alva’s daughter Consuelo to the Duke of Marlborough. Through this story, the authors relate the ironclad domination of Alva over her daughter. Consuelo had wanted to marry another man, Winthrop Rutherford, also a member of society’s “Four Hundred,” but not good enough for Alva. The top families were no longer limiting themselves to American “royalty.” Now, people like Alva set their sights on actual royalty from Europe. The circumstances at the time were such that while the American upper class was gaining wealth, many in the European upper class were losing it. Thus, American money sought out aristocratic titles for the best of both worlds. This was Alva’s dream for her daughter.

Everything was planned and controlled by Alva, and Consuelo had no say in the matter. Alva’s own marriage was breaking up due to her husband Willie’s dalliance with a young French woman. After Consuelo and the Duke met in 1894, Alva had invited him to be a guest of the family in the summer of 1895. It was then that he was expected to propose to Consuelo. When Consuelo told her mother of her plans to marry Rutherford, the two had a furious row late into the night. Afterward, Consuelo was told that Alva had suffered a heart attack and the doctor feared she would have another if confronted with Consuelo’s continuing obstinance. When Consuelo gave in, Alva made a miraculous and rapid recovery. In early fall, the Duke proposed and Alva agreed, though “there was no expression of sentiment on either side” (129).

The wedding was held in New York on November 6. Consuelo’s father, Willie, was present to walk her down the aisle and then was told by Alva to disappear. No member of the Vanderbilt family was invited except Consuelo’s grandmother—who declined to attend since no one else was welcome. An agreement had been hashed out in advance with lawyers and representatives on each side, detailed how much Vanderbilt money the Duke would receive upon the marriage. Consuelo was horrified at the attention from the press, the nasty gossip, and her lack of control.