Cabinet Ladies Take Part In Assisting Mrs. Grant
Washington,February 5, 1870.
A stranger attending a Presidential levee for the first time at the capital has an opportunity to drain the cup of Washington society to its very dregs. Card receptions, such as are held at the homes of the Cabinet, Chief Justice Chase, and General Sherman, in a certain sense are veiled under the sacred seal of hospitality, and the newspaper correspondent dare not, cannot, without violating all delicacy and good taste, make a pen picture of the men and women whom the dear people at home like to know all about. A Presidential levee is altogether a different affair. It is public. It belongs to the people. When we go to the Executive Mansion we go to our own house. Our sacred feet press our own tufted Wiltons. We recline on our own satin and ebony. We are received graciously by our own well-dressed servants, and the people have a right to know, through the columns ofThe Press, the exact state of the situation. Whoever goes to a levee at the mansion becomes public property, and has no more right to complain because he has been caught in the net of a newspaper correspondent than the fish who has swallowed the hook of an honest fisherman. The time has been when a levee at the White House was like a social gathering in a modest village. The President not only shook hands with his guest, but also asked him to take a chair and inquired about the state of the crops “Down East.” The most precious republican simplicity has taken its departure with the Jeffersons and the Madisons; or rather it has necessarily been cast off with all the other swaddling-clothes of an infant Republic. Aperfect river of human life pours through the Executive Mansion. Human beings are packed together just as solid as sardines in a box, whilst the President and Mrs. Grant are obliged to take each separate atom by the hand. After two hours of this kind of work, its ravage begins to show its effect upon the person of the Chief Magistrate. His eyes begin to have a far-off look, great drops of perspiration stand on his forehead, and his thin, quivering nostrils rise and sink, like the gills of a darling dolphin when taken out of the water. Sometimes the President gasps; but this is usually thought to be a handsomely suppressed yawn, and no matter how much he may desire to bring in his superb knowledge of military tactics, so far as it is known he has never been guilty of a flank movement; he has only appeared as if he would like to shoulder arms.
Mrs. Grant stands a little way from the President—“fair, fat and forty.” She appears in grace and manner just as any other sensible woman would who had been lifted from the ranks of the people to such an exalted position. It is true she shows the people her comely neck and shoulders, and, notwithstanding the wintry weather, makes no attempt to cover her shapely arms; but her gracious condescension is appreciated, and the exhibition is free to all.
Who are the people who file past the President? Titled men and women of foreign countries; a large part of the community which romance would call the “republican court;” and the mighty power sometimes called the sovereign people. Now it happens, as the stream flows onward through the Executive rooms, that particles of humanity are lodged in the same apartments that are honored with the presence of the President and his wife.
The most distinguished guests remain permanently in the room of power. The picture is made up of the Presidential party in the foreground, and back of them stand the Army, Navy, and Cabinet, as well as the Vice-Presidentof the United States. Of all the public men in the nation few or none stand so near the national heart as Schuyler Colfax, and the reason assigned is because he has got a mind like an elephant’s trunk. It picks up anything, from the largest man to the smallest woman, and his heart is big enough to give them all standing room. If he is introduced to a manufacturer he knows what kind of articles the man sends to market. If a literary woman is presented to him she finds that she has been registered in exactly the right place in his mind. He knows whether she writes about fashion, or, alas! alas! reports women conventions. Schuyler Colfax knows everything that is published in the newspapers. There is no room in his mind for lumber. It is full of working material, and he is the fairest specimen of progressive Young America to be found on the continent.
Miss Nellie Grant is a prominent feature of the levees and receptions at the White House. She is just exactly at the age when the feathers of her wings are not quite well enough grown to admit of her flying as a woman, and yet they are far enough advanced to spoil her attractions as a child. Her costume is of the rarest and costliest kind, and she conducts herself as becomes the only daughter of a President.
An elegant woman is seen standing in the background, slender almost to fragility, arrayed in a trailing robe of black velvet. Her powdered head and Greek profile take you back to the days of Louis XIV, and you feel that Madame Pompadour or some other beauty of that period has stepped out of her picture frame and stands flesh and blood before you. This woman is Mrs. Cresswell, the accomplished wife of the Postmaster-General.
In the shadow of the crimson curtains stand the Marquis and Madame de Chambrun. The marquis is an attache of the French legation; the madame is the granddaughter of General Lafayette, and one of the most attractive women in Washington. Nature meant to makeher a blonde, but forgot herself and kept on with the bleaching process. One cannot help in contemplation wondering whether her soul is as white and transparent as the casket. She inherits her grandfather’s love for republican principles. The madame has been only a short time in the country, but the marquis has been here, more or less, for quite a number of years. It is said that he is writing a history of our Republic. He has always been connected with the European press, and ranks high as a literary man at home.
Just beyond the marquis in the offing might have been seen Admiral Goldsborough, heavy and ponderous as one of his own war vessels, and carrying nobody knows how many guns. He wheezed and puffed as if there was something the matter with his machinery, but all persons present seemed unaware of danger, and no sign of an explosion or accident took place. Mrs. Goldsborough accompanied her stately husband, apparently a fitting consort in time of war or peace.
“Ad Interim” Thomas was there in the brightest of military buttons and army blue. He looked as harmless as one of the wooden guns at Manassas, and it was impossible to believe that he was the same “Ad Interim” that once shook the Republic from center to circumference. A fine looking woman clung to his arm, but whether it was Mrs. “Ad Interim,” or another the writer failed to discover.
A handsome Virginia member of Congress was there who looked as if he carried the regal blood of that proud Commonwealth in his veins. He had the courtly bearing which history attributes to the Randolphs, but, fearful that he might be a carpetbagger, his name was not ascertained.
Secretary Boutwell was present, accompanied by his daughter, a good, sensible-looking New England girl, who bears the same relation to the picture made of her inHarper’s Bazaarthat any small circle does to a large one. She is her father’s hope and her mother’s joy, but she is not Secretary of the Treasury.
The Marine Band discoursed some very bad music, considering what is expected of what ought to be the most perfect musical organization in the country. The Marine Band has sadly deteriorated of late, and it would be well for the people in power to make excellence in this, as well as all other things, a distinction of national favor.
Olivia.
Rules Therefor as Drawn by President Washington—The Existing Code.
Washington,February 10, 1870.
Originally the word “etiquette” meant a mark or title affixed to a bag or bundle denoting its contents, but in the modern acceptation of the word it is an account of ceremonies. It is a term applied to the forms which are observed toward particular persons, or in particular places, especially in courts, levees, and on public occasions.
In the beginning of the nation’s life our beloved forefathers thought that all these forms which marked the distinction between classes or individuals should be done away with at the same time with all the rest of the hollow mockeries which go to make a monarchical form of government. Notwithstanding President Washington meant to practice republican simplicity at the headquarters of the nation, “courtly” ways did creep into daily social intercourse. For instance, at Mrs. Washington’s receptions in both New York and Philadelphia the “first lady in the land” received precisely after the manner of Queen Charlotte’s drawing-room levees. The guests were arranged standing against the walls, and the President’s wife marched the rounds and said a kind word to all. When Mrs. Washington paid a morning visit, a servant or usher was sent in advance, “who rapped smartly with his knuckles on the door” and announced, “Mrs. Washington is coming.”
During these chaotic, unsettled days our far-seeing Washington realized that some rules and just regulations must be formed, lest the dignity of the Republic should be found trailing in the dust. He saw that it was necessaryto establish a rank without violating the Constitution, which prohibits Congress and the States from granting any title of nobility. Of so much importance to the country did he consider this subject that he addressed letters to Messrs. Adams and Hamilton, asking their attention and advice upon certain points of etiquette touching the deportment of the President of the United States. After mature reflection, the three wise men, Messrs. Washington, Adams, and Hamilton, fixed upon certain rules, which were afterwards endorsed by Jefferson.
In order to bring the members of society together in the first instance, the custom of the country was established that residents shall pay the first visit to strangers; and among strangers, first comers to later comers, foreign and domestic, the character of stranger ceasing after the first visit. To this rule there is a single exception—foreign ministers, from the necessity of making themselves known, pay the first visit to the Cabinet ministers of the nation, which is returned.
When brought together in society all are perfectly equal, whether foreign or domestic, titled or untitled, in or out of office. All other observances are but exemplifications of these two principles.
The families of foreign ministers arriving at the seat of Government receive the first visit from those of the national ministers as well as from all other residents.
Members of the legislature and the judiciary, independent of their offices, have a right as strangers to receive the first visit.
No title being admitted here, those of foreigners give no precedence.
Difference of grade among the diplomatic members gives no precedence.
At public ceremonies to which the Government invites the presence of foreign ministers and their families, aconvenient seat or station will be provided for them, with any other strangers invited, and the families of the national ministers, each taking place as they arrive, and without any precedence.
To maintain the principle of equality, or ofpele-mele, and prevent the growth of precedence out of courtesy, the members of the executive will practice at their own houses and recommend an adherence to the ancient usages of the country—of gentlemen in mass giving precedence to the ladies in mass, in passing from one apartment where they are assembled into another.
From time to time these severe republican rules have been discussed and ameliorated to suit the growing aristocratic taste of the great modern American Republic.
In later years a set of rules has been adopted which is called the “Code.” It is said all branches of the Government were appealed to in order to be suited, and the rules of the code were the result; but whether President Monroe or some other dignitary of those days was the author, the writer has no means of ascertaining.
The President.—Business calls are received at all times and hours when the President is unengaged. The morning hours are preferred. Special days and evenings are assigned each season for calls of respect,—one morning and evening a week being assigned for this purpose.
Receptions are held during the winter season, generally once a week, between 8 and 10 o’clock in the evening, at which time the guests are expected in full dress, and are presented by the usher.
The President holds public receptions on the first of January and the Fourth of July, when the diplomatic corps present themselves in court costume, and the officers of the Army and Navy in full uniform. The executive, legislative, and judicial branches of the Government are received between the hours of 11 and 12; after whichthe diplomatic corps, officers of the Army and Navy, and civiliansen masse.
The President accepts no invitations to dinner, and makes no calls or visits of ceremony; but is at liberty to visit without ceremony, at his pleasure. An invitation to dinner at the President’s must be accepted in writing, and a previous engagement cannot take precedence.
The address of the Executive in conversation is Mr. President.
The Vice-President.—A visit from the Vice-President is due to the President on the meeting of Congress. He is entitled to the first visit from all others, which he may return by card or in person.
The Supreme Court.—The judges call upon the President and Vice-President, annually, upon the opening of the court, and on the first day of January.
The Cabinet.—Members of the President’s Cabinet call upon the President on New Year’s day and the Fourth of July. First calls are also due from them, by card or in person, to the Vice-President, judges of the Supreme Court, Senators, and the Speaker of the House of Representatives, on the meeting of Congress.
The Senate.—Senators call in person on the President and Vice-President on the meeting of Congress and the first day of January; and upon the President on the Fourth of July, if Congress is in session. They also call in person or by card upon the judges of the Supreme Court and the Speaker of the House of Representatives on the meeting of Congress.
The Speaker of the House of Representatives.—The Speaker calls upon the President on the meeting of Congress, the first day of January, and the Fourth of July if Congress is in session. The first call is also due from him to the Vice-President on the meeting of Congress.
The House of Representatives.—Members of the House of Representatives call in person on the President on the first day of January, and upon the Speaker of theHouse on the opening of each session. They also call, by card or in person, upon the President on the Fourth of July, if Congress is in session, and upon the President, Vice-President, judges of the Supreme Court, Cabinet officers, Senators, Speaker of the House, and foreign ministers, soon after the opening of each session of Congress.
Foreign ministers.—The diplomatic corps call upon the President on the first day of January, and upon the Vice-President, Cabinet officers, judges of the Supreme Court, Senators, and Speaker of the House, by card or in person, on the first opportunity after presenting their credentials to the President. They also make an annual call of ceremony, by card or in person, upon the Vice-President, judges of the Supreme Court, Senators, and Speaker of the House, soon after the meeting of Congress.
The Court of Claims.—The judges of the Court of Claims call in person upon the President on the first of January and the Fourth of July. They also make first visits to the Cabinet officers and diplomatic corps, and call by card or in person upon the judges of the Supreme Court, Senators, Speaker, and members of the House, soon after the meeting of Congress.
The families of officials.—The rules which govern officials are also applicable to their families in determining the conduct of social intercourse.
The above code answers the same purpose to social life in Washington that the Constitution does to the whole country. So long as those engaged in the controversy stick to it they are safe. The moment they leave it they are adrift. At present a severe war is waging between the Senators and Supreme Judges. We beg the pardon of these sensible men; we mean their families have armed themselves cap-a-pie, and a great smoke is ascending from the battlefield. The wives of the Senators claim that the Senate created the Supreme Judges, and, to use the wordsof one of the brightest leading Senators, “Should the creature outrank its creator?” The Supreme Judge is made by the Senator, and if he is guilty of misdemeanor, he is tried by the Senate, and if found guilty, is deposed from his high office by the same. But once let a man get to be a Supreme Judge, and he stands as firm on the pinnacle to which he has been raised as the rock of ages on the bed of eternity.
Then it is claimed that all those who stand in the direct line of succession to the President outrank all the others. Our wise forefathers meant that our Government should never fall to pieces for the want of a “head.” So, if our military chieftain should go off like one of his own cannons, we should still have our precious Schuyler. If Vice-President Colfax should be snatched away from the evil to come, we should have to comfort ourselves with Speaker Blaine. Alas! alas! if he should fall like the smart rap of his own gavel, Chief Justice Chase would be left on our hands, and death could get no farther.
The “Code” says—and, by the way, it is just as good as the Constitution—that the Cabinet shall make first calls on the Vice-President, Supreme Judges, Senators, and Speaker of the House, but General Grant has taken these favored darlings to his bosom and allows them to do just as they please. He says: “The Cabinet is a part of my family; I want them looked upon as such.” So when the Supreme Judges, with Chief Justice Chase at their head, went to pay their respects to the President, on last New Year’s day, they found the President surrounded by his Cabinet, and these haughty men were obliged to bow the knee. Now, there is nothing in nature so free from the elastic qualities as the spine of a judge of the Supreme Court of the United States. As soon as time would allow, Chief Justice Chase addressed a letter to the Chief Magistrate, protesting against such unheard of and altogether unusual proceedings; but Ulysses smoked his cigar whilst he dictated one of those masterly papers of diplomacy,and the military secretary saw that it was safely delivered, and nothing more has been heard of it from that day to this.
The “Code” also says that the President accepts no invitation to dinner. This has heretofore been the custom, not because the President was a man, but because the man was a President, and, therefore, it was necessary to give no citizen cause for complaint, for if the President dines with one neighbor, why not with another? Besides, there are millions who would be glad to share their crust with this man. Ulysses S. Grant proves to the world that he is not above being a man because he has been elected President, and that he has no objection to going out to dinner, provided the viands be substantial and all the beverages pure. But let it be understood, the President does not scatter the bright light of his countenance indiscriminately, for only certain aristocratic dwellings are honored at dinner time by the presence of power.
Two receptions are held at the White House weekly,—one in the daytime, the other in the evening. The first is held on Tuesday, and is called in the newspapers “Mrs. Grant’s reception.” It is held on one of the Cabinet days, and, after the Cabinet consultation is over, the President descends to the Blue Room and aids Mrs. Grant in her arduous undertaking. Heretofore every President’s wife has received by herself, unless some guest happened to be stopping temporarily at the mansion. Mrs. Grant, however, has inaugurated a new order of things. Several women, usually the wives of some of the members of the Cabinet or of the Senators, are invited to the White House to lunch, and afterwards are detained to help do the pleasing work. Imagine a room of blue and gold, satin and ebony, where art, to carry out everything, has not only drawn inspiration from the “Arabian Nights’ Entertainment,” but at the same time has exhausted itself. Then picture our simple American dames, in costume that vies with Victoria’s and Eugenie’s on drawing-roomdays, each in her appointed place, at the right or the left of the “first lady in the land,” we trow no finer picture of a queen, surrounded by her “maids of honor,” can be found in any monarchy on the face of the globe. These dainty receptions are advertised in theChronicleto begin at 2 o’clock p. m., but alas! alas! it has happened to our positive knowledge that whilst these dames were lingering over the Presidential lunch table 2 o’clock has come and gone, and in the meantime exasperated American women have doubled their pretty little gloved fist in the East Room, and some have whisked out of the mansion without stopping to pay their respects to the “first lady of the land.” In the name of the masses of the people we ask, can our officials of to-day afford to depart from that simple republican platform of etiquette laid down by the immortal Washington? Can our public men, temporarily in power, safely divorce themselves from that later code laid down by general fitness and substantial common sense?
Whither are we drifting, in a social, republican point of view, when a Senator’s wife tosses her head and says: “Would you think it possible that the wife of a member has had the impertinence to ask me to come and spend an evening socially with her?” To a spectator, looking on this small society side-show, it seems all the more ridiculous, as the Senator-husband is so small that he is scarcely ever heard of either in the country or the Senate, whilst the member in dispute has a fame like the flag of our country.
To a neat little volume, called “Philip’s Washington Described,” we are indebted for a copy of the “Rules” as laid down by General Washington, as well as the “Code,” which was meant to be a new edition of the “Rules,” revised and corrected.
Olivia.
The Handsome Warrior Graces the Speaker’s Reception.
Washington,February 14, 1870.
Never since the inauguration of our Republic has social life in Washington assumed such brilliant hues as during the present winter. With the departure of the Democratic dynasty, and the disappearance of the Southern queens of society, it has been thought that the sunshine of the “Republican court” would go out forever. But the extravagant magnificence of to-day eclipses all former years; and if Mrs. Slidell or Mrs. Crittenden should revisit the haunts of their former triumphs they would find the social kingdom in stronger hands than their own. If the Southern woman ruled as queen, the haughty Northerner sways the sceptre of an empress. The Southern queen pointed to her slaves; the empress of to-day wears a coronet of diamonds, and only death can set her bondmen free.
Reception, ball, dinner, sociable—which shall be described first? The Prince’s ball darted across the social sky like a meteor. It has come and gone, and Washington’s fashionable women still survive. The New YorkTribunesays that one young lady refused to dance with the Prince because she invariably declined all round-dances. Then she refused to be his partner in a quadrille, because it would keep dear papa and mama later than they had decided to stay. All this sounds very nice in the newspapers, only it is a pretty fib and counterfeit and should never pass for the genuine.
The President’s levee and the Speaker’s reception bear a strong resemblance to each other. Everybody is admittedto Speaker Blaine’s the same as the Executive Mansion. All the great men are there except the President, and all the pretty girls, in their best clothes, are cast up on this fashionable beach by the social waves of the people. If there is one sight in this wicked world, more pitiful than another, it is to see a poor widow’s daughter, or an innocent young Treasury employee in her simple robes of muslin, apparently raised for a brief time to the social platform of wealth and power. In no place on the face of the globe can the two opposite social elements come together as at a President’s levee or a Speaker’s reception. Wealth is pitted against poverty; strength against weakness, and the result sometimes is brought forth in a fruit more deceitful, bitter, and dusty than the apples of the Dead Sea.
It is the night of the Speaker’s social reunion. Carriages draw up before the handsome imitation brownstone residence. These vehicles deposit the precious perfumed darlings—the aristocracy—the cream of society. Gay cavaliers dance attendance on these flounced, frizzled, bejeweled butterflies. These cavaliers generally wear hats and overcoats which look as if they had been borrowed from the old-clothes man, or purchased at a bargain at the second-hand store hard by; but as no better place on the earth can be found for losing one’s outside wrappings than these levees and receptions, the men show their good sense by going prepared. The cars are freighted to overflowing. The ambitious young mechanic takes his young sweetheart on his arm and pays his respects to the Speaker. The suite of parlors at the brown mansion are on the first floor, and through the broad open doors, all newcomers can be inspected as they march to an upper story to be divested of wrappings, and it is quite as unsafe to judge what is beneath the ugly waterproofs as to guess what is under the caterpillar’s skin. Mirrors are provided in the dressing-room, where jaded maid and faded matrons can assist nature to carry out her mostpressing needs. Boxes of pearl powder, brushes, combs, pins, dressing-maid are convenient, and if the last finishing touch of the toilet is omitted, the lady of the mansion is not to blame. It must be mentioned, however, that it is only the silk that powders in public; muslin and merino are the spectators in the scene.
“Belle, don’t you think one of my eyebrows is a little blacker than the other?”
“Yes; I think they both need touching up.”
“Too late now! Why didn’t you tell me before we left home? There, take up my handkerchief and rub it off.”
Pretty little white-gloved hand goes through with the daintiest manipulations, and the two eyebrows come out like Bonner’s fast team. Out of the dressing-room, down the tufted stairs that smother footsteps. There is something frightful about a human habitation where no footfall is ever heard. The eye is a glorious organ, but the ear is the better friend. You enter the first parlor, which is the beginning of the threeen suite. It is elegantly furnished in exquisite taste. One of Bierstadt’s Rocky Mountain pictures has a conspicuous place on the wall. A Beatrice Cenci, in its voluptuous beauty, suspended in another place, takes you back to old sensual Rome, whilst a miniature world swings on its axis in a friendly corner in a second room, with plenty of books to keep it company.
Near the hall door of the first parlor stands the Speaker of the House of Representatives, and by his side may be seen his wife. If it is right to judge by personal appearance, they seem excellently matched. Speaker Blaine is a handsome man in every sense of the word. There is just about the right amount of material used in his construction, and, as a general thing, it has been put in the proper place. He has a large kindly eye that would not do to look into for any great length of time, for the same reason that gazing into the sea is apt to make one sick. All his other features have been arranged artistically tomatch his Oriental eyes, and his form is as straight and symmetrical as a Maine pine tree. He shakes hands with his numerous countrymen with a vigor, and if he did hold on an instant longer than it was necessary to the little kid-gloved digits of the New YorkWorld’scorrespondent, itonly proved that he was mortal like poor Adam, and that he was willing to touch any amount of evil for a woman’s sake.
Mrs. Blaine stood beside her husband with something brighter and better than mere physical beauty in her face. Few if any women at the capital have a stronger countenance, and yet it is sweet and womanly. Everything about her is toned down to softest neutral tints. If she calls forth no thrill of admiration, she awakens no spirit of criticism. There are some colors in nature that are particularly grateful to the eye. There are some women in the same sense that are particularly grateful to all the senses. Their presence breathes repose. When you get near them your mind takes off its armor, draws in its pickets, and prepares to go into winter quarters. Mrs. Blaine’s superb taste may be seen in her elegant, well appointed home, in the world-renowned behavior of her husband, and just as he fills his most honored position, with dignified grace, she fills another still higher—that of the American matron at home.
Most noticeable of all the distinguished men who hover around the Speaker is General Phil Sheridan. In an instant you perceive that he is carved out of material from which Presidents ought to be made. Judging from memory, he seems no taller than the late Stephen A. Douglas, and in the same sense that Mr. Douglas was called the “Little Giant,” General Sheridan impresses you with the awful attribute of power. He has uncommonly broad shoulders for his height, and an eye like the American eagle’s. As if to carry out this picture, the country knows that he is a solitary bird, without even a mate to share his lone eyrie in wicked Chicago, and if matters donot mend in this direction it would be well for the people to take this most interesting situation into their own hands, and at the same time put a man in his place who will not retreat in the face of the feminine foe.
A tropical exotic is seen in a distant corner. It is young Lopez, the son of the Dictator of Paraguay. “Shirley Dare,” a woman of taste, says, he is “handsome.” To our eyes he is distinguished looking, nothing more. That peculiar flame born of mixed blood burns under his swarthy skin; it flushes his cheek, reddens his lips, and shines in his eyes with the cold glitter of black diamonds. You picture him swinging in his hammock under South American skies, and yet it is well to remember that he has not been in his native country for eight years, and the probability is, if he should return, his father would see in him a formidable rival, and in that case he would share the fate of all his illustrious relatives.
Colonel Parker, the Commissioner of Indian Affairs, was there with his white wife. It will be remembered that Colonel Parker belongs to the Indian tribe known as the “Six Nations.” It is said that he comes from mixed blood. If this is the case, the Indian was put on the outside, and the white blood was kept for the lining. He looks as much like an Indian as President Grant looks like a white man, and he is a very good representative of his race. His wife is fair, standing beside him, and attracts attention because she has broken a law; but why should she be received in society for the same reason that puts the poor Irish washerwoman, who links her fate with another race, beyond the pale of association, only the newspapers can answer.
As yet no half breeds have made their appearance, which proves there is a destiny which has something to do with shaping our ends.
For the reason that the card receptions of Secretary Fish are held the same evening, many of the ladies ofthe foreign legations pay their respects to the Speaker and his wife before going to the mansion of the Secretary of State. Whilst the toilette of the American woman is quite as costly, it cannot be said to be as elaborate and far fetched as that of the European sisters. The dresses of these foreigners are usually made up of trimmings. The eye is bewildered and lost in the multiplicity of flounces, fringes, laces, ribbons, and all those things which, in moderation, ought to be dear to every woman’s heart. The stylish daughters of Baron Gerolt, the Prussian minister, were there, and their costumes must have been perfect according to the European standard. The whole upper surface of their pretty little heads was turned into a flower garden; rosebuds were planted around the edges, and full blown roses blossomed in the center whilst long shoots and tendrils clung to their chignons as ivy nestles up to a damp wall. Their dresses were composed of that peculiar tint of silk called “ashes of roses,” and the fringes and satin trimmings were deep rose pink. Oh, the weary, weary labor of making these butterfly wardrobes, and these dresses were made by hand! No sewing machine had been used in the production. The tiny short sleeves were put together like patchwork, and between each tiny piece of silk was a satin cord. There was just the same proportion of human work on the long trained skirts, on the little fractional waists; and yet these extravagant toilettes, worn by these daughters of so-called lineage, only proved that in matters of dress there is such a thing as gilding refined gold and painting the rose, but this kind of work is always attended with the same consequences.
A literary woman connected with theRural New Yorkerwas present, and dazzled the beholders with her handsome face, lemon-colored silk, and black lace. A sweeter face scarcely ever looks out of a picture; but alas! alas! why did she not put herself into the hands of some stylish modiste, and yield the point as gracefullyas a literary woman knows how? There is nothing so damaging to a woman’s toilet as to begin a certain style and not have the stamina or force of mind to carry it out. What is worse than a weak decoction of anything? If a woman decides to adopt “Pompadour” it must be completion to the last, else all is sacrificed. The reason that literary women sometimes fail in matters of taste in dress is because they do not give sufficient attention to the subject. The perfect arrangement of a woman’s costume is one of the fine arts as much as carving a statue, painting a picture, or writing an exquisite newspaper article.
Olivia.
How the Cabinet Ladies Conduct Their Several Functions.
Washington,February 15, 1870.
Midway between a President’s levee and a private entertainment lies the social ground occupied by the card reception. It is semi-official in its character, because public position has much to do with general invitations extended to the guests. It does not necessarily follow that calls must have been exchanged between any of the parties in the contest. A man is invited because he is a Senator, head of a bureau, or an upper clerk in either branch of Congress. At the same time each Cabinet minister means to look after the social interests of his own State by gathering under his hospitable wings as many of its citizens stopping in Washington as his mansion will possibly admit, estimated by cubic measure.
Since the beginning of the social season four out of the seven Cabinet ministers have issued cards for three receptions each. These include Secretaries Fish, Belknap, Cox, and Postmaster-General Cresswell. The receptions held at the magnificent mansion of the Secretary of State have been simply a continuation of those elegant entertainments for which his distant home was celebrated when he was a citizen in private life. Only a man of great wealth can afford to be an American “Premier.” All the foreign legations are gathered around his liberal American hearth, and is it not most consoling to our national pride to remember that it is broad and generous in every sense of the word? Yet why our open-handed countryman should be obliged to spend his private meansto keep up the dignity of the Republic only the people through their representatives can answer.
Elegantly unostentatious have been the receptions held at the handsome residence of the three remaining ministers. In either case no effort has been made of display. It would seem that these Secretaries have a just appreciation of the social bearings of their positions, and yet realize, with Mr. Dawes, that, in the face of the financial peril of the country, frugality and economy should be the order of the day.
The great reception triumph of the season has been held at the historic Seward mansion, at present the home of the Secretary of War. Outside of the public buildings no house in Washington is so memorable in associations as this plain, unpretending pile of brick and mortar. It is broad, old-fashioned, with rooms extending far back, and everything about it reminds one of the good old days of one’s grandfather, and its severe simplicity is as refreshing as pure air when compared with the sensuous gingerbread work of the luxurious modern mansion.
The reception of the War Secretary and his accomplished wife was honored by the President of the United States, accompanied by the well-known Dent family. The newspapers have much to say about the “Dents;” but a close inspection of their every-day lives, as well as their antecedents, proves that our Chief Magistrate might have fallen into much worse hands. It is true they are numerous; but, as they did not make themselves, this sin must be laid at another door. Besides, are they to blame because a President happened to drop into their nest? Is there a man or woman in the country with stamina enough to keep them modest if they had a brother-in-law more potent than any king? Besides, these dozen or more brothers-in-law and sisters-in-law are exceedingly well behaved, considering the excellent opportunities which might be turned to mischief. A member of the Dent family has never been known to beconnected with the gold ring; has never been summoned before a Congressional committee. It is true, they like to snuggle under the warm wing of the President; but are not the great arms of the nation long enough to embrace the whole brood?
Up the very stairs that once echoed to the footsteps of the assassin Paine poured a stream of life composed of thecreme de la cremeof the national capital. Members of the foreign legations, with their ladies, were there; and this is unusual, as many of these haughty foreigners are seldom or never seen in Washington society except at the mansion of the Secretary of State. The Cabinet, Supreme Bench, Senate, House of Representatives, distinguished members of the press, were present; and, to give additional brilliancy to the scene, the Army and Navy were largely represented, glittering in blue broadcloth and the usual golden trappings.
At the entrance of the first parlor stood the Secretary of War; at his right hand might have been seen his fair young wife. With all due respect to secrecy, it is whispered that Secretary Belknap is just a shade handsomer than any other man in the Cabinet.
His exterior surface indicates the pure Saxon, and his eyes are the color of that deep blue liquid which is obtained by dissolving indigo in sulphuric acid. He had the true soldier’s form, which is tall, broad, and deep, and his voice is as mellow as an organ’s. His step has a ring when his foot touches the pavement, and his hand has the true grip, whether it hauls a rebel colonel over the earthworks on the battlefield, or touches the dainty finger-tips of a woman. It is said that Secretary Belknap has a warm place in the Chief Magistrate’s heart, which proves that the feminine element does not enter into the construction of a President. General Belknap is a warrior by inheritance as well as by practice, for ever since the beginning of the Republic the long line of Belknaps have taken up arms in defense of their country.
The fine young face of Mrs. Belknap, as she receives the host of dignitaries who have come to pay their respects to the great war power represented by her husband, is just as refreshing as pure water at the hillside. The bride of a year, a newcomer to the capital, she has not had time to be spoiled by adulation. The genuine, kind ways of private life she bears unspotted to her high social position, and the graceful manners which she brings with her from her Kentucky home remind us of the days of Mrs. Crittenden, when the distinguished women of that State were the fixed stars of society in Washington. Mrs. Belknap wore upon this occasion the same superb dress which graced the Prince’s ball, which proves that she does not intend to imitate those extravagant women who will not be seen twice in the same toilette. If this independent trait in her character lessens her in the opinion of her feminine peers, let us hasten to tell her how much it endears her to the people. Mrs. Belknap shares the honors of beauty with Mrs. Cresswell in the Cabinet.
Just beyond the War Secretary stood the President, with his sister-in-law, Mrs. Sharp, at his side. Marshal Sharp might have been in the vicinity, but as he is only a Dent by marriage, his presence or absence need not be noted. The President brought with him the same “killing eye” which the New YorkWorldso vividly described, yet another Dent sunned himself in its beams without the least sign of damage. Mrs. Grant remained at home, owing to indisposition, but Mrs. Sharp performed her part with exceeding grace and good nature. She wore a handsome blue silk dress, almost devoid of trimmings, with an elegant point lace shawl, and pearl jewelry. Mrs. Sharp is not noticeable for beauty or the want of it. She has the average face of American women, and her friends speak of her in the highest terms of praise.
Secretary and Mrs. Fish were seen not very far removed from the Presidential party. If Mr. Fish was notthe Secretary of the State, we should call him jolly. He looks as if he breakfasts on reed birds, dines on terrapin, and floats his life barge on rivers of champagne. Oh! the dainties, the flavors, the sweets that go to make up this genial and generous man. In contemplating him, one realizes that it would not be so very bad to be a South Sea Islander or an innocent Feejee. It must be because he is so palatable in personal appearance that he makes such an admirable Secretary of State. How delicately he has manipulated our complicated Spanish and Cuban affairs! how discreetly he manages theAlabamaclaims! It is said, “There are as good fish in the sea as were ever caught.” Secretary Fish, with the official hook in his mouth lives to fling the truth in the face of the old adage.
Mrs. Fish—ah! where shall words be found to describe the woman that awakens that exalted sentiment, and makes one long to call her mother or some other endearing name? She has an intellectual countenance, noble enough to belong to a nun. Mrs. Fish has the mind, heart, and manners to grace the White House, and no greater compliment can be paid to an American woman.
In the vicinity of Mrs. Fish might have been seen standing many of the members of the foreign legations. Most noticeable were the ponderous daughters of the Peruvian minister, Colonel Don Manuel Freyre. The weight of these South American damsels reaches far into the hundreds. It is well for the country that Barnum has been lost in the Mammoth Cave else our relations with distant countries might become hopelessly entangled. Considering how densely humanity was packed in the parlors of the war mansion, these elephantine beauties might have created a panic had a tramp or a promenade become necessary, but, fortunately for life and limb, this was not undertaken, and no accident occurred to mar the festivity of the scene. These accomplished South American ladies are considered great beauties in their country,for in the land of the Incas superabundant flesh is not considered in the way.
In a picturesque attitude, leaning against a doorway, might have been seen Mary Clemmer Ames, of the New YorkIndependent. Aggressive literary labor begins to work its way in tiny little grooves and daintiest of channels on her poetical face. Mrs. Ames has written some very fair poetry, which she is well aware of, and it has raised her to that sublimatic height to which common mortals seldom or never attain. Her costume was a credit to the New YorkIndependent, for nothing more elaborate was to be seen in the rooms. To prove to the world that literary women do know how to dress it is necessary to describe this star of the first magnitude. Mrs. Ames appeared at the reception of the gallant War Secretary in purest white silk, en train, surmounted by a heavy pink satin overskirt. This overskirt arrangement was the crowning triumph of her superb toilette. This upper skirt was scalloped, paniered, and squared with mathematical exactness, and rounded with poetic measures. It was lifted up at the proper corners; at the same time it floated free in Greek outlines after the manner of ancient drapery. Nothing that an elegant pink satin overskirt could do for a poetess was left undone. It might be said that this rose-colored cloud had accomplished its destiny, and ought henceforth to be spirited to the Milky Way, there to shine in starry glory forever, a warning to all those common mortals who have a way of stretching their mouths every time they see a first-class literary woman prepared for the altar of a social occasion. Mary Clemmer Ames takes to rosebuds. Isn’t this surest evidence of the poetic talent? Rosebuds have stirred up more genius than all the cabbages which have been raised since the world began. A masculine biped hovered in the vicinity of Mrs. Ames, but as it was plain that he was no poet, a description of his person is omitted.
In another parlor were to be seen a galaxy of diamonds, with Mrs. Fernando Wood attached to the back of them. The writer has never seen so many handsome gems assembled, except on the person of Madame Bodisco, who used to wear the Russian family jewels at Washington. A necklace of great value sparkled at her throat, great clusters gleamed in her hair, her handsome arms were manacled with the same, but she did not seem to mind being a prisoner, for when her jailor appeared in the person of the Hon. Fernando, she took his arm just the same as if he were like other men.
The Hon. Samuel Hooper, of Massachusetts, was there, the finest wintry picture on the floor. After the same manner of the Secretary of State, he looks as if the earth loved him and had brought him the choicest offerings in her power. The sunshine of life has mellowed his character. Altogether he is a New England elm, around which the ivy of youth and affection loves to twine. Few men have so many strong friends as Mr. Hooper, and none can be found in public life less harassed by enemies.
For hours this distinguished sea of humanity whirled and surged through the mansion. Waiters managed, by some secret known only to themselves, to wedge their way through the dense throng and refresh the guests with cakes and ices. A room was provided where coffee and chocolate were served, but no costly wine or any other beverage that intoxicates was seen at the reception of the Secretary of War.
A glowering night prepared itself for the reception of the Postmaster-General. It rained, but as this part of the program concerned nobody but the hackmen and the horses, and as no Professor Bergh was present to look after the trials of his four-footed friends, the reception came off with additional glory reflected from the dark surroundings. In the midst of the pelting rain the carriages drew up before the handsome residence of the Postmaster-General, in the most fashionable quarter ofthe West End. Matting or drugget was laid outwardly from the mansion. A policeman opened the door of your carriage and held an extensive umbrella over your head while you found your way into the entrance. That short walk was the most impressive part of the evening’s entertainment. A cloud darker than the heavens above lined either side of the open space. It was reflected from the dense crowd of colored people who had collected to inspect the guests, who for a moment were visible as they passed from the carriage to the mansion. This crowd of boys, girls and men seemed as indifferent to the pelting rain as the dumb creatures which nature clothes in her own curious fashion. Once within the vestibule, we had light and music, celebrated men and brave women. In the usual place at the entrance of the first parlor might have been seen the Postmaster-General, and not far removed his accomplished wife. The Postmaster-General has a commanding person, a broad, towering brow, and underneath it a pair of opal eyes which burn and glow with the usual brilliancy of that exquisite gem. The lower part of his face denotes aggressive power, as well as that unmistakable pertinacity so necessary in a public man. He has set his face against the franking privilege, and the chances are that the Postmaster-General will win. No man in the United States has been so tortured with applications for office; and if he had the photographs of all the women who have applied to him for postoffices, and they were all laid in a row, single file, they would reach from Maine almost to California. Considering Postmaster-General Cresswell’s troubles, he is the most remarkably well preserved man in Washington.
Mrs. Creswell is handsome, as well as one of the most graceful women at the capital. Since the absence of Mrs. Senator Sprague from fashionable society, if she must have a successor, Mrs. Creswell seems the most available candidate for the vacant place. As an example of herexquisite taste she wore black velvet the evening of her reception, and no toilet is so “perfect at home.”
There seemed to be no end to the rooms in this modern mansion. In one place a soothing weed was prepared for the lords of creation, where they could steep themselves in smoke if they felt it to be desirable. In another chocolate and coffee were dispensed in dainty little cups that must have been imported from Constantinople. In the coffee-room might have been seen the genteel Montgomery Blair. He had a certain calm look of resignation on his face, sphinx-like in the extreme, as if he had the strength to bide the time of half a dozen administrations, if it was necessary, before the right one would “turn up” for the Blair family. Ex-Secretary McCulloch was also in the chocolate-room, surrounded by a bevy of pretty girls; but his associates were no better than he deserved, for a better, kinder-hearted man is hard to find. Another room was devoted to sandwiches, cakes, and ices. In a corner of this room was seen an immense punch-bowl, in which miniature icebergs were grating their sides. This punch-bowl contained lemonade colored with claret. An old lady whose veracity can be trusted, said there was just enough claret introduced in it to counteract dreadful effects of the ice and the acid in the beverage; that one could drink a dozen glasses without the least painful effect. At any rate, great quantities of this purple fluid disappeared, and no serious mischief followed.
Conspicuous among the hundreds of elegant women present was “Shirley Dare,” the Washington correspondent of the New YorkWorld. She was robed in blue satin, which was extremely becoming to her refined face, milky complexion, and amber-tinted hair. Her dress throughout wascomme il fautas one of her own fashion letters, and among all the literary women who shine at the capital she is the one whom the writer feels most like grasping by the hand. She is the true woman journalist,who accepts the situation, and is willing to fight the battle of life on the woman’s platform. She believes that in our so-called weakness lies our strength, and that if women are only a mind to wake up and go to work, the men will never put down the brakes. The New YorkWorldhas sent her here upon as delicate and difficult a mission as the females of olden times undertook when they were sent out by their sovereigns to distant courts to take charge of certain branches of diplomacy. TheWorldought to have provided the wardrobe, the carriage, jewels, and other important et ceteras to match, and afterwards give her a duchy when she returns to New York covered with scars and glory. A masculine reporter can slip unnoticed through the mazes of society; not so with a woman. She must be able to bear inspection. She must be prepared for any fate. What does a man know about society after he has bathed in it? He is unable to write a respectable society article. The great New York dailies have tried man after man at the capital, and have finally concluded there are some things which men cannot do. The newspapers now, in some directions, acknowledge the supremacy of woman.
Gen. Fitz Henry Warren, late minister to Guatemala, was present, accompanied by his accomplished wife. Mrs. Warren is a kind of periodical star in Washington society. A few years ago, when her husband was Assistant Postmaster-General, she was one of the noticeable women of the capital. She reappears again, bringing the graceful manners of the old regime, to which is added that rare cultivation acquired only by residence abroad, and the best gifts garnered in the passing years. Very few American women have remarkable inclinations for intellectual pursuits, but Mrs. Warren is found among the number.
Wending his way daintily, avoiding the long silken trains as if they concealed serpents and scorpions, was seen handsome Senator Carpenter, of Wisconsin. Oh!that this letter had not reached such a prodigious length, so that an inventory of his attractions might be made public! Let it be summed up that he is everything he should be and very little that he should not be. Few if any of the men at the reception had a finer presence. Colonel John W. Forney was there also. It was impossible to find out whether he was made for the reception, or the reception was made for him. At any rate, the fit was excellent; but the same reason that prevents a description of Senator Carpenter prohibits dwelling upon this specimen of his kind, and these two last difficult subjects must be laid, for the time, on the table.
Olivia.
The Functionary in Charge of State Dinners at the White House.
Washington,March 8, 1870.
With the termination of the present week we have the last state dinner at the White House. That event probably marks the close of the fashionable season. With the New Year these dinners are inaugurated, and every Wednesday of each week the President is expected to entertain a given number of Senators and Members. Thirty-six persons only can be seated in the banqueting hall of the Executive Mansion, consequently it is impossible that all the people’s representatives, during one season, shall have the honor of crossing their feet under the national mahogany. If the President would follow the custom of other nations, and invite only men to these official banquets, it would happen that all, or nearly all, of our Congressmen would be thus honored yearly. But the fairer portion of creation is mixed ingeniously in these highly important state matters. Consequently the same number of public men are obliged to dine elsewhere. In the infancy of the Republic the President had time to bestow upon his guests, as well as plenty of room, to entertain the nation’s limited number of Congressmen. In those days women were necessary to fill up the chinks of conversation; at the same time no public man was left out in the cold for a whole year because his seat was taken. It has now become a matter of great delicacy to choose who shall be invited to the White House, and who shall not; but no President has given less offence than the present Executive. It is, however, only amongst thewomen, who are the social rulers at the capital, that any feeling is expressed, for the Congressmen who declare state dinners to be “bores,” and those who escape the trial, consider themselves fortunate.
The “state dining-room” at the White House is a handsome apartment. A long table, rounded at the ends, extends through the middle of it, at which thirty-six can be comfortably seated. There is plenty of room besides for the servants to perform their duties admirably. New mirrors and chandeliers have been added since the administration of President Grant, but the carpets, upholstering, and papering have descended from Johnson’s regime. The exquisite taste of Martha Patterson is seen on the daintily tinted walls, the figures of the carpet so nicely adjusted to the size of the room, the dark green satin damask at the windows, and the quaint chairs, under her supervision, arranged to match. A clock as ancient as the days of Madison adorns one of the marble mantels, whilst a pair of hydra-headed candlesticks, grim with age, descended from nobody knows whose brief reign, grace the other. With the exception of a pair of modern mahogany sideboards, the furniture seems to have belonged to the eras of Washington or Jefferson, it is so solid and sombre. The White House was modeled after the palace of the Duke of Leister, and the state dining-room, more than any other part of the building, is suggestive of a baronial hall. But if there is one thing more than another from which the state dining-room suffers it is from a dearth of silver. “Steward Melah,” the silver-voiced Italian whom the Government employs to look after this part of its business, actually wrings his hands with terror and dismay when he “sets” the table for state occasions. “Why, madame,” says Melah, “there isn’t enough silver in the White House to set a respectable free-lunch table.” Now, the incomparable Melah has been steward at the Everett House, Boston, the Astor, New York, the Stetson at Long Branch, the St. Charles,New Orleans, and having served in these first-class capacities it may be possible that his ideas are too exalted for the same kind of work in the White House. It must be remembered that all these state dinners are paid for out of the President’s private purse. The President, however, had put this delicate matter into Steward Melah’s hands, and the Italian “gets up” a dinner according to the quality of the guests. These dinners cost from three to fifteen hundred dollars, though the average cost is about seven hundred. The state dinner of which Prince Arthur had the honor of partaking was composed of nine courses, and cost fifteen hundred dollars; but it is only when royalty is to be entertained that these feasts assume such costly proportions. This modest sum does not include the wine and other beverages, for these come under a separate “item.” In no other administration has the Government appointed a man to spend the President’s money. Heretofore the “ladies of the White House” have looked after this part of the official business, and it will at once be seen what frugality is necessary in order to make both ends of the Presidential year meet; but no man during the existence of the Republic has ever been the recipient of so many costly gifts as the Executive, and he reflects honor in return by his unexampled and reciprocal generosity.
A rare work of art adorns the center of the long table in the state dining-room. It is several feet long, and perhaps two feet wide, and is composed of gilt and looking-glass. The foundation is a long mirror, and this is beached by a perpendicular shore three inches in height, but of no appreciable thickness. Little fern-like upheavings may be seen rising out of the tawdry gilt at equal distances apart, and these are used as receptacles for natural flowers. But, lest the guests should look into this mirror, and see each other’s faces reflected, at moments, too, when the human mouth assumes anything but poetic proportions, large vases of flowers are strewn on itsglassy surface, and the mischief of the mirror is nipped in the bud. The ornament is not merely ornamental; it is useful. It answers the very purpose to help out a social ambuscade, for it can be so arranged as to hide the President from any guest from whose presence he is suffering, whether the said person comes under the head of enemy or friend. Conversation at a state dinner cannot be general. Each guest must depend upon his own neighborhood. The quality of the conversation depends entirely upon the kind of people who manufacture it. Mike Walsh terrified Mrs. Franklin Pierce at a state dinner by talking about “going a fishing on Sunday.” A modern Congressman filled up the official time between each mouthful by telling his next lady the exact things which his palate craved. He didn’t like “French dishes” but he was “fond of pork and beans, as well as ice-cream and canned peaches.” No doubt the word “Jenkins” will be flung at your correspondent for these social criticisms; but gentleman is the highest term which can be applied to a politician, and the people have just as much right to a description of an official dinner as any other public event, especially when the Government employs a public functionary in the person of Steward Melah to see the dignity of the nation carried to the perfection point.
Once upon a time an accomplished young American woman had the honor to dine with the Czar of all the Russias. During the royal entertainment a plate of delicious grapes was passed around. It is true the young lady saw the golden knife which rested on the side of the basket, but as the fruit came to her first she had no way of learning its use; so she did just as she would have done in America—she reached out her dainty fingers and lifted from the dish a whole stem of grapes. What was her consternation to see the next person, as well as all the other guests, take the golden knife and sever a single grape each, and transfer it to their plates. Had a young Russian lady in this country helped herself to a wholechicken the error would have been precisely the same. It is true the young woman committed no crime, but her feelings and those of her friends would have been spared had she learned the etiquette of royal tables before she became an Emperor’s guest.
A man who will go to a state dinner, eat with his knife, and remain ignorant of the use of his finger bowl, should be expelled from Congress, and ever afterwards be prohibited from holding any place of trust under the Government. Who does not long for the good old “courtly” days of Hamilton and Jefferson? The writer of this letter has once during the winter had the supreme honor of seeing a gentleman of the old school hand a lady to her carriage. Oh! that an artist had been on the spot to photograph this noble picture. The old man stood with hat uplifted; his right hand touched the tips of the lady’s fingers; the wind played with the scanty locks of his uncovered head, and there was a dignity and purity about his movements that reminded one of the out-door service when the preacher says “ashes to ashes.” The superb manners of the aged gentleman could only be felt; they cannot be described.
It is the evening of the President’s state dinner. The guests are not only invited, but expected to be punctually in their places at 7 o’clock p. m. President and Mrs. Grant are already in the Red Room waiting the company. The ladies have disrobed themselves of outer wrappings, and, like graceful swans, they sail slowly into the presence. Mrs. Grant is in full evening dress—jewels, laces, and all the et ceteras to match. Her lady guests are attired as handsomely as herself, and the gentlemen are expected to wear black swallow-tail coats and white neckties.
President Grant leads the way with the wife of the oldest Senator present on his arm—not the oldest Senator in years but the one who has enjoyed the longest term of office. The President is followed by the other guests,whilst Mrs. Grant, assisted by the husband of the woman who honors the President by her exclusive attention, brings up the rear, and after a slight confusion the guests are comfortably seated.
When no parson is present the divine blessing is omitted, unless it be the Quaker thankfulness—the silence of the heart. In the beginning of the feast fruit, flowers, and sweetmeats grace the table, whilst bread and butter only give a Spartan simplicity to the “first course,” which is composed of a French vegetable soup, and according to the description by those who have tasted it, no soup, foreign or domestic, has ever been known to equal it. It is said to be a little smoother than peacock’s brains, but not quite so exquisitely flavored as a dish of nightingale’s tongues, and yet “Professor Melah” is the only man in the nation who holds in his hands the recipe for this aristocratic stew.
The ambrosial soup is followed by a French croquet of meat. Four admirably trained servants remove the plates between each course, and their motions are as perfect as clockwork. These servants are clad in garments of faultless cut, which serve to heighten to the last degree their sable complexion. White kid gloves add the finishing touch to this part of the entertainment. The third “course” of the dinner is composed of a fillet of beef, flanked on each side by potatoes the size of a walnut, with plenty of mushrooms to keep them company. The next course is dainty in the extreme. It is made up entirely of luscious leg of partridges, and baptized by a French name entirely beyond my comprehension. It will readily be seen that a full description of the twenty-nine courses would be altogether too much for the healthy columns of a newspaper to bear, so we pass to the dessert, not omitting to say that the meridian or noon of the feast is marked by the guests being served bountifully with frozen punch. As a general rule, wine is served about every third course. Six wineglasses ofdifferent sizes and a small bouquet of flowers are placed before each guest at the beginning.
The dessert is inaugurated by the destruction of a rice pudding, but not the kind which prompted the little boy to run away to the North Pole because his mother “would have rice pudding for dinner.” It is not the same dish which our Chinese brethren swallow with the aid of chop-sticks, but it is such a pudding as would make our grandmothers clap their hands with joy. Charles Lamb has made roast pig classic; Professor Melah’s rice pudding is worthy to be embalmed in romance or story, or at least to be illustrated inHarper’s Weekly. This Presidential dish cannot be described except by the pen of genius, therefore it can only be added that no plebeian pies or other pastry are allowed to keep its company. After the rice pudding, canned peaches, pears, and quinces are served. Then follow confectionery, nuts, ice-cream, coffee, and chocolate, and with these warm, soothing drinks the Presidential entertainment comes to an end, and the host and his guests repair to the Red Room, and after fifteen minutes spent in conversation the actors in a state dinner rapidly disappear.
Whilst we are discussing state dinners it may as well be remembered that private citizens in New York, Boston, and Philadelphia, in some respects have equalled if not surpassed the White House in the elegance of their entertainments. In New York perfumed fountains exhale their liquid delights in the centre of the table, and this is as far ahead of that old mirror arrangement as the genuine surpasses the imitation. No fault, however, should be found with Professor Melah, for as far as he goes, no officer of the Government performs his duty better. At the same time it would be well for the Professor to remember that at an entertainment honored by the presence of women something besides the sense of taste and vision must be gratified. He should imitate the Japanese in the perfection of his surprises. He mustmake pastries out of which live birds will spring. Such a dish as this is none too dainty to set before President Grant and his friends.
When Mrs. Lincoln lived in the White House she dearly loved to have everybody know that she kept house in the Executive Mansion. If an entertainment was to be given she didn’t mind lending a helping hand, just as she would have done in that modest home in the “prairie land.” Martha Patterson saw that the milk-pans were kept sweet and clean, a matter of just as much importance in the White House as in the humblest wayside cottage; but now that this order of things which commenced with Martha Washington and ended with another Martha has passed away, and the Government employs a man to look after this beloved household, is it not a duty devolving particularly upon the press to see that this officer performs his duty with military strategy and perfection? Who has the authority to punish this man in case the President’s digestive organs are impaired? Napoleon lost a battle on account of a vicious dumpling. The greatest divorce case on record was founded on the following touching epistle: “Dear Mrs. B.: Chops and tomato sauce. Yours,Pickwick.”