A NEW PRESIDENT.
The inaugurations at New York and Philadelphia had been marked with
a certain degree of pomp and stateliness. The first one in Washington
had been simple almost to indifference. There had preceded it a bitter
campaign, and the Federalists kept the peace with a silent dignity that
was chilling in the extreme. Mr. Adams left Washington at once. And the
city then was in a dismal stage, with few improvements perfected. There
was really no accommodation for visitors, and many still believed the
Capital would be removed. They delighted to call it "The Wilderness
City," "Capital of Miserable Huts," and "A mudhole almost equal to
the great Serbonian bog." Mrs. Abigail Adams had not been charmed
with the White House nor the city. The great marsh stretched out in a
most forbidding and discouraging manner. Piles of rubbish and heaps
of stone, with unsightly masses of timber, gave the place anything
but a homelike aspect. There was no accommodation for the wives of
congressmen if they had chosen to come. Gay New York and charming
Philadelphia disdained Washington.
Eight years had changed much of this. True, Georgetown was more
attractive and growing faster, but streets were beginning to be cleared
up, mudholes filled in, walks laid, and handsome houses erected. The
wife of the secretary of state, charming Dolly Madison, had healed many
differences, and Mrs. Madison's drawing room was a favorite resort for
senators, ministers, and diplomats. She was often asked to preside at
the White House. Mrs. Randolph, the President's daughter, on her very
first visit had been delighted with her, and the two became lifelong
friends.
Her bright and vivacious sister, Anna Payne, had added no little zest
to social life, and her marriage had been quite an event in the slowly
growing city. The Van Ness mansion was also the scene of much gayety.
Old Virginia belles came up for a few weeks, and there were balls and
parties at Georgetown, and no end of tea drinkings. The young women
found plenty of cavaliers, and when riding was possible gay parties
sallied out, stopping at some country inn for midday refreshments.
And though there were many grave questions pending, this promised to be
a day of unwonted satisfaction. For the first time great preparations
were made. Washington and Georgetown people invited friends, as in
those days people were given to hospitality.
Mrs. Jettson had kept her sister Marian a large part of the winter,
much to Dolly's discomfiture, but Mr. Floyd had sent for Marian and
refused them both the anticipated pleasure of the inauguration.
Jaqueline had come home an undeniable young lady, with her hair done
high on her head and sundry touches in her attire that made her very
attractive and coquettish. There was great rejoicing, from least to
greatest, much envying on Patricia's part, much delight on Varina's and
Charles', and a pretty, shy, winsome admiration from Annis.
There was of course the duty visit to the Pineries. Then Jaqueline came
down to her Aunt Jane's.
"I'd planned such a delightful time!" declared Mrs. Jettson, between
satisfaction and vexation. "There is to be a gay season, with balls and
parties and dinners. And, really, the young men are getting to be quite
factors in society. I wanted both the girls and you; and, Jaqueline,
you've grown monstrously pretty, and your manners have improved so
much that you might be fresh from London or Paris. There have been
so many fine people here the last two or three years, and building is
going on at a rapid rate. Philadelphia and New York will not be able to
look down on us much longer. I meant to give you young people a dance
and supper, and father won't let the girls come. Marian was mad as a
hornet, and poor Dolly stamped around. Father grows queerer about them.
But _I_ wanted the company as well. I'm not an old woman, if I have two
babies. And I'm quite sure it will be a success if you will come."
"Of course I shall be delighted. Why, it's just charming!" and the
pretty face was alight with smiles.
"I shall ask all the folks up for the grand event. You see, brother
Randolph is a true Madison man. And, do you know, I like your new
mother wonderfully. She is quite like an elder sister, and you'll
have a fine time. You'll be just spoiled," laughingly. "But you're
not to call me Aunt Jane any more. I won't have it from a tall girl
like you, who will no doubt be married herself next winter. How many
disconsolates did you leave at Williamsburg?"
"None, I think, so deeply smitten but that a course of Greek and Latin
will restore them. I did have a splendid time, though Aunt Catharine
would persist in considering me about twelve. It was positively funny.
But I had Louis to manage for me. Oh, Jane, I'm awfully sorry about the
girls! They cried with disappointment. And they did not know about the
party!"
"No, I hadn't the cruelty to speak of that. But I'll whisper to you,
Jaqueline, and you must not breathe it. Somebody here has taken
a tremendous fancy to Marian. He is well connected, a young civil
engineer, and a militia lieutenant; but we are afraid father will blaze
out and perhaps refuse to listen. He has quite set his heart on Marian
marrying their next neighbor, that Mr. Greaves who lost his wife last
summer and has no one to look after his four children but the slave
mammy. And Marian just hates him. The idea! Oh, Jaqueline, it is just
comforting to have someone to talk to, a young person that you can say
anything to!"
"Marian told me. Of course there is the fine estate and the slaves.
I do suppose old people think a great deal of that," and there was a
touch of regretful wisdom that sat oddly upon the young girl. "And four
children! I wouldn't want 'em."
"A young girl has no business with another woman's children. I want
you to see this young man. And I want to get your father interested. I
think after a little I'll bring it about."
"Mr. Greaves doesn't seem very"--Jaqueline knit her pretty brows,
thinking of the fervent tones and impassioned glances that had marked
her victorious sway--"very deeply smitten. He and grandfather talked
politics and war all the evening."
"But he means business. He has asked for her. He thinks it only
respectful to wait a year before beginning his new addresses. So we
have until July."
"I wouldn't marry him," declared Jaqueline with much vigor.
"I dare say your father will be easy enough about lovers if they are of
the right kind. Don't be in a hurry. Have a good time first. You are so
young."
Mrs. Jettson had insisted upon taking in the whole family, and they
came the evening before, being comfortably stowed away, although some
of Mrs. Mason's relatives who had lately come to Washington insisted
upon sharing the honors.
Annis and Charles had been much interested, and questioned Mr. Evans in
every conceivable manner as to what it was for, and why America did not
have a king or an emperor. Patricia was bubbling over with delight.
Fortunately the day was fair, and everything seemed auspicious. Salutes
of cannon were fired from the navy yard at dawn, and responded to
from Fort Warburton. The militia from Alexandria and Georgetown, in
fine array, marched into the city to escort the new President to the
Capitol. Thousands of people gathered along the way, and there was a
great hurrahing, emphasized by the waving of hats and handkerchiefs.
Mr. Mason and his wife and the two younger children were in a carriage,
while the two girls went with Mr. and Mrs. Jettson.
Annis looked out curiously at the scene. There was the tall form of Mr.
Jefferson, quite in contrast with the smaller one of his friend, who
bore himself with becoming dignity. At twelve Mr. Madison reverently
took the oath of office and made his inaugural address, when the cheers
and enthusiasm became deafening. It was the first really grand ceremony
of the kind that Washington had witnessed.
And now the new President reviewed the array of soldiers, and eager
interest marked every step. It was indeed a gala day. Many people were
driving around in their carriages, enjoying the sunshine and the crowd.
Then the President, with most of the officers and senators, returned
to his home, where Mrs. Madison had prepared tables of refreshments for
all who chose to call and pay their respects to the new magistrate.
A fine young fellow in Continental uniform paused at the carriage of
the Jettsons, and greeted them cordially.
"This is something like," he said. "Simplicity may be very good in its
way, when one cannot help himself, but the nation ought to honor its
ruler. I am proud to be in it."
Mrs. Jettson turned and introduced Mr. Ralston to the girls, who
smilingly acknowledged his presence.
"Then you could not persuade Miss Floyd?" and he glanced up wistfully.
"Father is not quite in accord with the administration, and he would
not consent to her return."
"I am desperately sorry. I managed at the eleventh hour, which was
early this morning, to get a ticket to the ball. Some dear friends
of mine would have been delighted to chaperone Miss Floyd, if she
could have consented to so short a notice. And there will be so many
festivities!"
"I regret it deeply," returned Mrs. Jettson. "What a shame!" she said
to her husband when Mr. Ralston had left them. "At Long's there could
be only a given number accommodated. And to have missed such a fine
array of people! I should like to be there myself."
The ball was considered quite a sumptuous affair. A host of beautiful
women in their most elegant attire, military men who had not laid
aside their trappings "in the piping times of peace," and the brilliant
uniforms of the different legations, made a picture quite worthy of the
young Capital. Mrs. Madison, in her robe of yellow velvet, her Paris
turban with its bird-of-paradise plume, her neck and arms adorned with
pearls, dispensed her smiles and greetings with the wonderful tact and
sweetness which were never to desert her; jest and repartee ran round
the circle; and Mr. Jefferson shone in his genial cordiality. Someone
remarked upon his gayety, and the gravity of the new incumbent.
"Can you wonder at it?" he asked. "My shoulders have just been freed
from a burden of cares; he is just beginning to assume them." Yet he
gave his friend a glance of sympathy and tenderness that indicated a
continuance of the lifelong friendship.
Some glowing accounts of the ball found their way to different
papers, and it seemed as if Washington was suddenly looming into
conspicuousness.
The children were tired with the day's pleasures and ready to go bed.
But the next morning they were eager to inspect the Capitol.
Mrs. Adams' plaint about it still held good in many respects. The wings
alone had a finished aspect. There were the Senate Chamber and House
of Representatives, the nuclei of many things to come. But to Charles
and Annis, who looked at it through the romantic eyes of childhood,
enlarged by their rather narrow reading, it was grand.
The two elder girls were more interested in Jane's party. There were
some of the younger representatives, not averse to dancing with pretty
girls and having a merry time while they were off duty. If Philadelphia
and New York rather disdained the social pleasures of the newer city,
it was a great favorite with the more southern States; and Virginia did
all honor to her fine line of Presidents.
For, after all, the provincialism was not so marked. There were people
who dared the voyage to Europe with as much complacency as the steam
traveler of to-day, and who studied the best Europe had to offer. Young
men were sent abroad for education; not a few young women had a year or
two of finishing abroad. There were noted foreigners, too, who left an
impress on society: Albert Gallatin and his charming wife, the learned
Swiss scholar and the American girl who had grafted some delightful
foreign ways on a very thorough foundation of patriotic culture. Mrs.
Monroe was a famous New York beauty who had lost her heart to Virginia,
and the Vice President was from the northern State that was slowly
accepting the new city. There were foreign ministers and their wives
who accepted the republican methods and the dignified simplicity, if it
did lack the stately elements of the courts abroad.
Mr. Arthur Jettson was one of the enthusiasts, and already saw great
possibilities for the infant city. On the staff of engineers and
largely interested in building, he laid the plans of the future before
new acquaintances and had the good fortune to interest many. Old David
Burns had already made a great fortune in shrewd land speculations.
And although the Presidential mansion was toward the eastward, there
were many who argued that the trend would be more westward. There was
Georgetown, a really thriving place, whose gravity did not depend on
Congress in session.
He had already persuaded Mr. Mason to make some investments, though the
elder man shook his head rather ruefully at the unpromising aspect as
they drove around.
Jaqueline and Patricia were much more interested in the invitations to
the party. But the day after the inauguration Lieutenant Ralston came
in, though now in citizen's attire, with an eager manner and sparkling
eyes.
"I wonder if you could be induced to take the young ladies to a
reception to-morrow evening?" he inquired. "It will be rather informal
and a crush, to be sure, but they will be able to see both Presidents,
though not the White House. That will come later on. Next week
the Madisons will no doubt be domiciled there. If you would prefer
waiting----"
"Oh, no!" replied Mrs. Jettson. "The crowd will be well worth seeing.
I do not despise crowds," laughingly. "Did you go to the ball?"
"Yes, with some brother officers, and wishing all the while your
sister could have been there. It was an elegant scene, I assure you.
I am proud of the beauty of my countrywomen. Mrs. Madison has been
accustomed to honors, to be sure, but this was in a new rôle, as chief
lady in her own right. And she graced the occasion. She is charming.
We shall have a brilliant administration in spite of the perplexities.
Well--you will go, then?"
"We cannot afford to miss it. Mr. Mason talks of returning in a day or
two."
"I have hardly seen the young ladies. Can you not lay an embargo on
them?"
"I shall try, for my own sake," she returned laughingly. "Thanks for
your trouble."
"It is a pleasure to me."
The party had gone out for views of Washington and an inspection of the
Capitol. When they returned Jaqueline ran up to Jane's room, her face
beaming with interest, since she had been introduced to several
representatives. Mrs. Jettson looked up from a pile of finery.
"You suggest a hollyhock in brilliant array," said Jaqueline
mirthfully. "Are you going to hold an auction?"
Jane gave a half-amused sigh. "You have had an invitation out, and
there is very little time to prepare. I am trying to think what can be
altered. There is my pink paduasoy with the race ruffles. I cannot get
into the waist any more, but you are so slim. Just try it on. Anything
will do for a child like Patty."
"But where to in such fine feather?"
"To the Madisons'. Not a regular levee--something much more informal.
Lieutenant Ralston has it in hand. I have my new brocade and the
embroidered petticoat. We can take this gown over to Mrs. Walker's, and
coax her to make it more youthful. I haven't worn it since Floyd was a
baby."
Jaqueline hurried off her woolen frock and slipped into the pretty
silken garment. The skirt answered, but the bodice needed considerable
alteration.
"And I thought I was slim; Jack, you have an elegant figure. Now we
must go at once to Mrs. Walker's, or it may be too late. It's just
down Pennsylvania Avenue. Scipio will take it for us, and we will go
over and do the marketing. You will like the pink, won't you? It's very
becoming."
"Oh, how good you are! Yes, I just adore it. Do you really mean me to
have it? How can I thank you?"
Jaqueline patted and caressed it with her soft fingers.
"I did mean it for Dolly, but father is so queer about things--and
gowns. He and mother keep in the same little round, with the same
friends, and think that it is all-sufficient for the girls. And I'm
so afraid Marian will give in to the constant dropping that is said to
wear away the stone. Jacky dear," in an almost plaintive tone, "won't
you be--that is--I mean--I can't think just how to put it--only you
won't try to win away Lieutenant Ralston, will you, dear? I've set
my heart on his making a match with Marian. _You're_ so pretty and
coquettish!"
The color came and went in Mrs. Jettson's face, and her voice dropped
to a pleading cadence.
"Why, no! But what has he to do with----"
"Oh, he brought the invitation! He knows just how to bring about
everything. And the Ralstons are delightful people--well-to-do and all
that. Marian would be so happy! It is a shame she isn't here. But we
must not dawdle. Get into your coat and hat again."
Scipio, the butler and upper servant, came with his best bow and put
the parcel carefully into the big basket, covering the delicate stuff
with a napkin. Then he trotted along behind the two ladies, looking as
if weighty matters devolved upon him.
Mrs. Walker kept three rooms upstairs. In the front one she displayed
her goods: silks, velvets and laces, flowers and feathers. She had laid
in a new and extensive stock. Two or three women were chaffering. But
Mrs. Walker left them presently, and when she heard the errand summoned
them into the adjoining room. Jaqueline hated to leave the beautiful
show on which her eyes had feasted.
And though women were fond enough of gay attire shipped from London
and Paris, and Belgium frippery and laces when they could get them,
they were beginning to think it was not always necessary to send to
Philadelphia or to New York. And to her stock of materials Mrs. Walker
had added a workroom, not so much for the making of garments as the
altering and refurbishing of party gowns, caps, and turbans.
Jaqueline was put in the pink gown again, and when Mrs. Walker looked
her over she decided upon the sort of bodice there must be for a young
girl, and promised to have it done the next afternoon. Scipio would
come for it.
Center Market was the only place of account to household purveyors.
They went thither followed by the slave, meeting other ladies with
an obsequious attendant. Marketing was one of the duties of a good
housewife. Some had come in their carriages. There was an exchange of
friendliness, as is often the case in the infancy of towns, and some
bits of family gossip, some references to the ball at Long's Hotel.
All the others had come in when they returned. Charles had his brain
full of marvels. Varina was tired and cross.
"I shall have to send you back home," declared her father. "Indeed,
perhaps we had all better go to-morrow. We are to take supper to-night
with the Carringtons, over at Georgetown. Jaqueline and Patty, you must
go with us--that was Madam Carrington's orders. She has not seen you in
a long while."
Annis crept around to her mother and took her hand, looking up
wistfully. It seemed as if everyone wanted her mother.
"No, you can't go to-morrow," said Mrs. Jettson. "At least, the girls
cannot. They have a state invitation, and I have been to get a proper
gown for Jaqueline," and she laughed mischievously.
"Jane!" said the squire sharply; "what nonsense! Jaqueline has gowns
and frocks and fal-lals enough. You will make her vainer than a
peacock. What is this invitation, pray?"
"To pay our respects to Mr. and Mrs. Madison. Dear me, Randolph, think
how father would rail at such republican crowds as have haunted the
place to see plain Mr. President! They are to move to the White House
early next week, when Mr. Jefferson goes to Monticello; and then, no
doubt, there will be more state. But the Madisons have always kept such
an open, hospitable house, and welcomed guests so charmingly."
"Jane, you are getting to be an astute politician. No doubt Arthur
has his eye on some street or creek or stream for improvement, and is
engineering a grant through the House. Not but what Washington needs
it badly enough. There's muddy old Tiber, and lanes full of pitfalls,
and last year's weeds like battalions of an army. Well, I must not
grumble, for I have a finger in the pie. Virginia Avenue, for all its
high-sounding name, is a disgrace to the State standing sponsor for it;
and I am quite sure my money is buried in bogs. So you and Arthur try
your best with the new administration. I'm too old a dog to be apt at
new tricks."
"But it isn't Arthur's doings. Lieutenant Ralston is to convoy us
thither," returned Jane.
"Well, go and get ready, girls. We will start soon after dinner
and return early. Lucky the fandango wasn't to-night, or the brave
lieutenant would have to content himself with Jane."
Annis kept close to her mother. After dinner she followed her to her
dressing room.
"I suppose, mamma, I couldn't go with you?" she asked wistfully, as her
mother was making great puffs out of her abundant hair.
"My dear--there will be all grown people, and nothing to interest a
little girl," was the soft reply.
"But I don't mind interest. I could sit very still and watch the rest
of you. I----" The child's voice faltered.
Her mother bent over and kissed her, endangering the structure of hair
she was piling up.
"Oh, my dear, to-morrow perhaps we will go home and you will have me
altogether. It will be only a little while. You see, people do not ask
little girls out to tea."
"But you always took me before. Oh, mamma, I can't like all these
people, there are too many of them! I do not want anyone but you."
The child clung convulsively to her mother. Patricia Mason's heart was
torn between the two loves. For each day she was learning to love her
generous, large-hearted husband with a deeper affection, and taking a
warmer interest in the children. The hurt and jealous feeling of Annis
was very natural; she could hardly blame her little daughter. Indeed,
it would have pained her sorely if the child had been easily won away.
Yet scenes like this smote the very depths of her soul. As Annis grew
older she would understand that nothing could change a mother's love,
though circumstances might appear to divide it.
Patricia kissed her tenderly, unclasped her arms, and went on with her
preparations. The slow tears coursed each other down the soft cheek in
the grave quiet harder to bear than sobs.
"Patty! Patty!" called the good-humored voice up the stairs, "don't
prink all the afternoon, or you will outshine your old husband and put
him out of temper. Girls, come! The horses are tired of waiting."
A quick footfall sounded on the stair, and Jaqueline's voice was heard
laughing gayly. Then Patty the younger, peered into the room.
"Oh, I thought I was the last! Can I do anything for you? Here is your
cloak. We are not in summer yet. It really is warmer at home; but I'm
glad to be here, all the same. Why, madam mother, you look so pretty
and young father will have to introduce us as sisters--the Three
Graces. Here are your gloves. Good-by, little Annis. Charles will look
after you."
Mrs. Mason kissed her little girl. "Will you not come downstairs?" she
whispered.
Annis shook her head.
She heard the merry voices, and presently the sound of the wheels. Then
she leaned her head down on a chair, and felt more solitary than in the
Kentucky forests.