“MANY Americans underrate the beauty of Washington,” I said.
“Comparatively few of them have seen it, and hundreds who criticise it
have not been south for a number of years. The growth of Washington
is not only modern, it is of yesterday. The city was really little
more than a village up to the date of the late war; and it was only
in 1871 that the impetus was given to the public enterprise that has
covered it with palaces, private and public. It is the only city of
America in which the streets are kept as cleanly and as orderly as
London and Paris. The streets are asphalted, and you may drive over
them everywhere without inconvenience or obstruction. There is an
individuality about the houses that is one of Washington’s most notable
architectural characteristics.”
“Yes,” said Irving, “that is a great point. New York is lacking in
that respect, the reason being, I suppose, its want of space. Some of
the houses in Washington suggest Bedford Park, Fitzjohn’s avenue,
and the street of artists’ houses at Kensington. The same may be said
of portions of Chicago and Boston. The so-called Queen Anne order
of architecture is very prevalent in Washington,—take Pennsylvania
avenue, for instance. On a fine summer’s day it must be a picture, with
its trees in leaf and its gardens in bloom.”
Irving went more than once to the White House, and was greatly
impressed with the dignified informality of one of its evening
receptions.
“No ceremonious pomp, no show, and yet an air of conscious power,” he
said; “the house might be the modest country-seat of an English noble,
or wealthy commoner, the President the host receiving his intimate
friends. No formal announcements; presentations made just as if we
were in a quiet country-house. Soon after supper, when the ladies
took their leave, and most of the gentlemen with them, I and one or
two others went into the President’s room, and chatted, I fear, until
morning. It was to me very enjoyable. President Arthur would shine in
any society. He has a large acquaintance with the best literature,
dramatic and general, is apt at quotation, an excellent storyteller, a
gentleman, and a good fellow. When I had said good-night, and was on
my way to the hotel, I could not help my own thoughts wandering back
to thoughts of Lincoln and Garfield, whose portraits I had noticed in
prominent positions on the walls of the executive mansion. I remember
Mr. Noah Brooks, of New York, telling us the story of Lincoln’s death,
and how he was to have been in the box with him at the theatre that
same night, and how vividly he recounted the chief incidents of the
tragedy. And Garfield,—I can quite understand that terrible business
making his successor prematurely old, called as he was into office
under such painful circumstances, and with so great a responsibility.
A distinguished American was telling me yesterday that only the wisest
discretion and personal self-denial in regard to the filling of offices
saved America from the possibilities of riot and bloodshed. He said
Arthur’s singularly quiet administration of affairs—the one necessity
of the time—would be taken into account at the polls, if he is
nominated for reëlection.”