=Lady Betty's Comment=
In opposition to the familiar precept of a patriot touching the price
and preciousness of liberty, femininity, scorning to be free, exults
in shackles. We hesitate over our own taste, and turn rather to the
crowning of some courageous male, with a liking and a talent for
notoriety. The duties of this gentleman being irksome and his reward
being ridicule, it is perhaps amazing that we stand in no nearer
danger of lacking a leader for want of aspirants than does the nation
of begging for a President. Once guided by a master mind the most
exotic may come frankly forth to meet and struggle with the daily
weariness of dinner giving and dinner eating: may look towards a
triumphant overthrow of those problems on what forks to use, what
jewels to adopt, what mannerisms to affect and what fads to uplift. As
our persons are no more sacred than our habits we feel that our vanity
is never safe; and our present despot, who owns a Turkish taste in
femininity, and insists on the fashionableness of fat, unhappy is the
woman who, like Mrs. Spottletoe of Chuzzlewit fame, is lean and dry
and errs on the side of slimness.
* * * * *
The dawn of the racing season alters the bucolic character of the
roads leading to Morris Park and makes them gay and noisy
thoroughfares--conglomerations of smart traps and rainbow frocks. The
drive to and from the track is the jolliest feature of a programme
that--as is not uncommonly the case where the mighty are
involved--smacks not a little of sameness. The inevitable lunch at the
club house is occasionally enlivened by a friendly tiff over the
possession of a piazza table where is offered a view of the course
combined with the comforts of repletion, and is, in consequence,
considered a vantage point of desirability. We meet the same people,
and we eat of the same dishes disguised in the same service, that
daily play the routine of our fashion; for, as Thackeray says of his
British, wherever we may go, we carry with us our pills and our
prejudices. And there be times, too, when we almost echo those
cravings of poor Becky Sharp who, having attained the summits of
society, cries in the desperation of her ennui: "Oh, how much gayer it
would be to dance in spangles in a booth!"
* * * * *
That enterprising bachelor, Mr. James Henry Smith, evinces a nice
taste in matters feminine. His much-to-be-desired box seat is not
infrequently embellished by the presence of Mrs. Cornelius Vanderbilt,
who this year shows a preference for the varying shades of Quaker
gray, and was recently admired in a cloth of that color made with a
plain skirt and a blousing coat with bishop sleeves. Mrs. Alfred
likewise leans modestly towards the dove and is shown at her best in
a soft pale frock trimmed with passementerie of the same shade and
topped by a large hat of black chip tipped well towards the right
side. Mrs. Alfred is young enough to ignore the ravages of a possible
embonpoint, but there be other matrons who hang so uncertainly about
that borderland of beauty that they somehow manage to convey the hint
that only by an unwinking watchfulness do they succeed in foiling the
onslaughts of his ogreship of avoirdupois. In their eye lurks terror
and in their lines one spells their secret of rebellious hunger; of
Delsarte, gymnastics and massage. Sometimes the matron is an
improvement on the maid. But this is not always true. For those who
turn coarse and harsh with years, we recommend Christian Science and a
less flexible self-denial.
* * * * *
We find it difficult to understand that lack of sense and taste which
led to the recent criticisms of Mr. Jefferson's oratory on the Actor's
Home occasion. Mr. Jefferson, happening by mistake to pass over one of
the many names of benefactors, and, presto! there were a dozen
listeners, malice-prompted, eager to ascribe to this falter of an old
man's memory every meager and jealous motive. An intricate and, of a
necessity, a somewhat didactic argument, delivered in the open air,
does not become the simplest of tasks in the hands of an old gentleman
who has turned his back upon the fourscore mark. He was brave and he
was most obliging to undertake a speech of any character, and now his
payment seems to be in the customary false, ill-natured coin.
* * * * *
It is said that the late Ward McAllister shrank with peculiar distaste
from the vulgarity of divorce. If so he is to be congratulated on
passing away before the publication of his niece's domestic misfits.
Mrs. Young is appallingly frank concerning her wrongs and the suit
threatens to be spicy; although so far, the name of the actress
corespondent has not been given to the press. It was good of Mr.
McAllister to attempt that separation of wheat from chaff which at one
time rendered his verdicts of such dread power among social aspirants;
it may be the irony of mockery that to-day his family are conspicuous
upon only two points. One relative goes clamorously into the divorce
court while another wins celebration by the showy style of a bodice.
* * * * *
The gossip who predicted that the wife of the French ambassador would
decline to be received by the Countess Cassini must content herself as
best she may with the development of some lesser scandal, for
certainly this last effort has met refutation. Mme. Cambon dined at
the Russian embassy like the diplomatic woman that she is.
* * * * *
The visit of Miss Roosevelt to Cuba is said to have been more or less
of a failure speaking from a Latin standpoint. Miss Roosevelt did not
"take" with the Cuban element. She is uncompromisingly Anglo-Saxon and
lacks that pliability which would endear her to the children of
another race. Cuban women excel in charm of mannerism and in their
eyes Miss Roosevelt appears unpolished and uncut. We may like her
better as she is, but it is safe to say that had she but a few added
years of experience there would have been a more gracious outcome to
her trip. Miss Roosevelt Scovel was recently dining at Sherry's. She
wore an exquisite white frock but is not herself a pretty girl though
her grace uplifts somewhat her mediocrity of appearance.
* * * * *
It is the province of brides to be as bedecked as circumstances
permit. Why then does Mrs. Depew automobile about Washington in a
miserable machine that most people would refuse to be seen in? Is it
humility? It is not gallant in Chauncey to permit the lady to appear
in such an antiquated rattletrap. In appearance she is a plain woman;
sensible, gracious and nice. Her position is a trying one which she
supports with tact. So far she has been guilty of no error of taste
and her manner with her husband is pleasant without bearing a trace of
that silliness which the Senator's great age encouraged Washington to
expect. No one has yet enjoyed any spiteful fun at Mrs. Depew's
expense though many were on the _qui vive_ for entertainment.
* * * * *
Idlehours has been duly garnished for the return of the master, who
loves this home better than the gray pile which represents the best
architectural type on Fifth Avenue. Mr. Vanderbilt is modestly
conscious of the prestige wrested from Fournier, and is a cheering
illustration of the soundness of open-air enjoyment.
* * * * *
How often have we read of the monthly ten thousand dollars which our
ambassador will lavish upon Brook House! In justice to Mr. Reid it
must be owned that he is simplicity itself, and by no one is it
supposed that either he or Mrs. Reid have part in the publication of
these details. He showed wisdom in a preference for his own household
over the proffered royal quarters which would have been assigned him.
He is chosen for his fitness, but were he the veriest clod the dignity
of his position would still carry with it a sufficient measure of
respect. Our desire to embellish its importance is absurd, and the
hysteria of the dailies is calculated to place a dignified gentleman
in a ridiculous light. Mrs. Reid's name and cultivation will doubtless
enable her to support a monotonous role with grace; but, in
consideration of British proficiency in matters ceremonial, their
money will not be called upon to add a jot to the dignity of their
reception. Their early departure has not prevented the opening of
their country place, Ophir Hall, in the vicinity of White Plains,
while their neighbor, Colonel Astor, has long been established at
Ferncliffe.
* * * * *
Miss Nannie Leiter, of studious renown, is visiting Chicago in the
company of her father. Mamma Leiter plans a garden party in compliment
to Ambassador and Madame Cambon, while brother Joseph courts fame from
the arena of Buffalo Bill; but for a clear space of a day or two we
have learned naught of Daisy of the violet orbs. They are the
loveliest eyes in Washington, by contrast with which the commoner
grays and blues appeal to the enamoured diplomats but as so many
soulless pebbles.
* * * * *
From London wafts the rumor that Alexandra, pleading a dread of
copy-designing peeresses, guards with jealous vigilance the secret of
her coronation crown, and gossip adds that she fears to have it
duplicated by some enterprising American. It is doubtful if the
peculiar humor of the British populace would allow of a full
appreciation of this joke. Years and etiquette combined have led her
Majesty to the thraldom of the rouge and enamel pot. Like the sensible
woman that she is she attempts no concealment of the fact that she
protects herself from becoming hideous by the employment of three
maids whose duty it is to successively undertake the embellishment of
the royal countenance. By means of this relief no one of these women
loses her delicacy of eye and touch, and Alexandra blooms with the
rosy softness of a girl.
* * * * *
The papers seem to be woefully wrought up over the financial rating of
Mr. Harry Lehr. Whether he is or whether he is not a wine boomer would
not ordinarily be a query of agitating importance. Nor yet is the
exact proportion of his yearly salary of national interest. No one
ever accused this agile gentleman of setting up for a millionaire
while his ingenuousness touching his wife's property is disconcerting
in its frankness.
* * * * *
Now that Tom Reed is settled in New York one wonders somewhat that one
hears so little of his family. They are to be congratulated on their
breeding, for with his prominence to back them they would find
notoriety an easy plum. A gentleman called at Mr. Reed's office a day
or two ago to ask for an autograph letter on the plea that he had in
his possession one of each of the speakers, and wound up his request
with the half joking query of "You are a great man, are you not, Mr.
Reed?" "No," said the rotund Tom in his big-voiced drawl, "No, but I
am a good man."