CHAPTER XXXI.

A NEW ERA IN SOCIETY.

Rutherford B. Hayes had not entered upon his fifty-fifth year when

he was inaugurated as President. He was a well-built man, of

stalwart frame, with an open countenance ruddy with health, kind

blue eyes, a full, sandy beard in which there were a few silver

threads, a well-shaped mouth, and a smile on his lips. He had

served gallantly in the army and creditably in Congress, without

having contracted any bad habits or made any personal enemies.

His manners were courteous; he bore himself with dignity, yet was

affable to all; quick in speech, but open as the day. Politicians

did not always obtain the places which they imperiously demanded

for themselves or for their henchmen, and he refused to acknowledge

that some who had busied themselves about the Southern electoral

votes had claims on him which he was to repay by appointments to

office. Impassive, non-committal, and always able to clothe his

thoughts in an impenetrable garment of well-chosen words, applicants

for place rarely obtained positive assurances that their prayers

would be granted, but they hoped for the best, thinking that

"The King is kind, and, well we know, the King

Knowest what time to promise, when to pay."

Mrs. Hayes exercised a greater influence over public affairs than

any lady had since Dolly Madison presided over the White House.

Tall, robust, and with a dignified figure, the whole expression of

her face, from the broad forehead, which showed below her hair,

worn in the old-fashioned style, to the firm mouth and modest chin,

bespoke the thoughtful, well-balanced, matronly woman. She had

such a bright, animated face that nothing seemed lacking to complete

the favorable impression she made upon every one who came under

the influence of her radiant smile. That smile was the reflection

of a sunny disposition and a nature at rest with itself. She and

her husband looked like a couple who lay down at night to peaceful

slumbers, undisturbed by nervous dreams of ambition, and awoke in

the morning refreshed and well prepared for the duties of the new

day, which never found them fretted or flurried.

Mrs. Hayes brought with her from her rural home what was known as

"the Ohio idea" of total abstinence from intoxicating drinks, and

she enforced it at the White House, somewhat to the annoyance of

Mr. Evarts, who, as Secretary of State, refused to permit the

Diplomatic Corps to be invited to their customary annual dinner

unless wine could be on the table. This Mrs. Hayes refused to

allow, and all of the state dinners served while she presided over

the hospitalities of the White House were ostensibly strictly

temperance banquets, although the steward managed to gratify those

fond of something stronger than lemonade. True, no wine glasses

obtruded themselves, no popping of champagne corks was heard, no

odor of liquor tainted the air fragrant with the perfume of innocent,

beautiful flowers. The table groaned with delicacies; there were

many devices of the confectioner which called forth admiration.

Many wondered why oranges seemed to be altogether preferred, and

the waiters were kept busy replenishing salvers upon which the

tropical fruit lay. Glances telegraphed to one another that the

missing link was found, and that, concealed within the oranges,

was delicious frozen punch, a large ingredient of which was strong

old Santa Croix rum. Thenceforth (without the knowledge of Mrs.

Hayes, of course) Roman punch was served about the middle of the

state dinners, care being taken to give the glasses containing the

strongest mixture to those who were longing for some potent beverage.

This phase of the dinner was named by those who enjoyed it "the

Life-Saving Station."

While Mrs. Grant had always denounced the White House as not suitable

for a President's residence, Mrs. Hayes was charmed with it. She

once took an old friend through it, showed him the rooms, and

exclaimed: "No matter what they build, they will never build any

more rooms like these!" She had the lumber rooms ransacked, and

old china and furniture brought out and renovated, and, when it

was possible, ascertained its history. Every evening after dinner

she had an informal reception, friends dropping in and leaving at

their will, and enjoying her pleasant conversation. Often her rich

voice would be heard leading the song of praise, while the deep,

clear bass notes of Vice-President Wheeler rounded up the melody.

She almost always had one or two young ladies as her guests, and

she carried out the official programme of receptions to the letter.

While the President was earnestly endeavoring to restore peace at

the South and to reform political abuses at the North, Mrs. Hayes

was none the less active in inaugurating a new social policy. One

of the evils attendant upon the "gilded era" of the war and the

flush times that followed was the universal desire of every one in

Washington to be in "society." The maiden from New Hampshire, who

counted currency in the Treasury Department for nine hundred dollars

a year; the young student from Wisconsin, who received twelve

hundred dollars per annum for his services as a copyist in the

General Land Office; the janitor of the Circumlocution Bureau, and

the energetic correspondent of the _Cranberry Centre Gazette_, each

and all thought that they should dine at the foreign legations,

sup with the members of the Cabinet, and mingle in the mazes of

the "German" with the families of the Senators. The discrepancy

in income or education made no difference in their minds, and to

admit either would be to acknowledge a social inferiority that

would have been unsupportable. But while some of them, by their

persistency, wriggled into "society," the stern reality remained

that their compensations did not increase, because their owners

sillily diminished them in what they called, maintaining their

social position. "Vanity Fair" no longer existed, and the shoddy

magnates no longer furnished champagne and terrapin suppers for

fashionable crowds, regardless as to who composed those crowds;

the strugglers for social position retired into modest quietude,

and no longer aspired to be ranked among those in "society."

The people one met at the White House and in society, after the

inauguration of President Hayes, were an improvement on those who

had figured there since the war. One seldom saw those shoddy and

veneer men and women who had neither tradition nor mental culture

from which to draw the manner and habit of politeness. They lacked

the sturdy self-respect of the New England mechanic, the independent

dignity of the Western farmers, or the business-like ease of the

New York merchants, but they evidently felt that their investments

should command them respect, and they severely looked down upon

"them literary fellers," and others with small bank accounts. In

the place of these upstarts there were cultivated gentlemen and

ladies, who could converse sensibly upon the topics of the day,

and if there were neither punch-bowls nor champagne glasses on the

supper-table, there were fewer aching heads the next day.

Mrs. Hayes, while blessed with worldly abundance, showed no desire

to initiate the extravagances or the follies of European aristocracy.

The example she set was soon followed, and her pleasant expression

and manners, retaining the ready responsiveness of youth, while

adding the wide sympathies of experience, won for her the respect

of even those devotees of fashion who at first laughed about her

plainly arranged hair and her high-neck black silk dresses. Lofty

structures of paupers' hair, elaborately frizzled, were seldom seen

on sensible women's heads, nor were the party dresses cut so

shamefully low in the neck as to generously display robust maturity

or scraggy leanness. It cannot be denied that fear of women and

not love of man makes the fair sex submit to the tyranny of the

fashions, and Mrs. Hayes having emancipated herself, the emancipation

soon became general. While, however, "the first lady of the land"

discarded the vulgar extravagances which had become common at

Washington, she by no means held herself superior to the obligation

of dress, and of the pleasant little artificial graces belonging

to high civilization. Some of her evening dresses were elegant,

the colors harmonizing, and the style picturesque and becoming.

If she had the good taste not to disfigure her classically-shaped

head, or to load herself with flashy jewelry, so much the better.

Prominent among the festivities at the White House during the Hayes

Administration was the silver-wedding of the President and his

wife, which was the first celebration of the kind that had ever

occurred there. The vestibule, the halls, and the state apartments

were elaborately trimmed with bunting and running vines. In the

East Room, at the doors, and in the corners and alcoves tropical

plants were clustered in profusion. The mantles were banked with

bright-colored cut flowers, smilax was entwined in the huge glass

chandeliers, and elsewhere throughout the room were stands of potted

plants. Over the main entrance was the National coat-of-arms, and

just opposite two immense flags, hanging from ceiling to floor,

completely covered the large window. The Green, the Red, and the

Blue Parlors were similarly decorated, the flowers used being

chiefly azalias, hyacinths, and roses.

The members of the Cabinet and their families were the only official

personages invited to this celebration, and with them were a few

old friends from Ohio connected with the President's past life and

pursuits. A delegation of the regiment which he commanded, the

Twenty-third Ohio Volunteer Infantry, brought a beautiful silver

offering. Among the President's schoolmates was Mr. Deshla, of

Columbus, who said: "I knew him when we called him 'Rud,' when he

was called 'Mr. Hayes,' then 'Colonel Hayes,' and 'General Hayes,'

then 'Governor Hayes,' and now that he is President we are equally

good friends." The guests promenaded through the parlors, and

engaged in conversation, the Marine Band playing at intervals.

Precisely at nine o'clock the band struck Mendelssohn's Wedding

March, and President Hayes, with his wife on his arm, came down-

stairs, followed by members of the family and the special guests,

two by two. The procession passed through the inner vestibule into

the East Room, where the President and Mrs. Hayes stationed

themselves, with their backs to the flag-draped central window,

and there remained until the invited guests had paid their

congratulations. Mrs. Mitchell, the daughter of the President's

sister, Mrs. Platt, stood next Mrs. Hayes and clasped her hand, as

she did when a little child, during the marriage ceremony twenty-

five years back.

Mrs. Hayes wore a white silk dress, with draperies of white brocade,

each headed with two rows of tasseled fringe, and with a full

plaiting at the sides and bottom of the front breadth; the heart-

shaped neck was filled in with tulle, and the half-long sleeves

had a deep ruching of lace. Her hair, in plain braids, was knotted

at the back and fastened with a silver comb, while long white kid

gloves and white slippers completed the bridal array. On the day

previous, which was the actual anniversary, Mrs. Hayes had worn

her wedding dress, making no alterations save in letting out the

seams. It was a flowered satin, made when ten or twelve breadths

of silk were put in a skirt, and there was no semblance of a train

appended thereto.

The Rev. Dr. McCabe, who had married Mr. Hayes and Miss Webb twenty-

five years before, was present, with Mrs. Herron, who was at the

wedding, and who was a guest at the White House. She had an infant

daughter, six weeks old, with her, which was christened on the day

previous Lucy Hayes. After the happy couple had been congratulated,

the President and Mrs. Hayes led the way into the state dining-

room, which had been elaborately decked for the occasion with cut

flowers and plants. The table was adorned with pyramids of

confectionery, fancy French dishes and ices in molds, the bill of

fare including every delicacy in the way of eatables, but no beverage

except coffee. At midnight, when the guns announced the birth of

a new year, congratulations and good wishes were exchanged, and

then the company dispersed.

The gossips had much to say about the petition of the venerable ex-

Senator Christiancy for a divorce from a young Washington woman,

who was a clerk in the Treasury Department when he married her.

The irascible, jealous old man magnified trifling circumstances

into startling facts, and deliberately attempted to brand his young

wife with infamy. She may have been foolish, she may have said or

done what was not wise, but those who knew her well asserted that

she had given no cause for the terrible accusations brought against

her by the man who persuaded her to become his wife, and who proved

the truth of the proverb, that "There is no fool like an old fool."

His resignation of his seat in the Senate to accept a diplomatic

appointment, that Mr. Zach. Chandler might return to it, was said

to have been anything but creditable to him, although profitable.

Washington society was also kept in hot water by the young secretaries

and attaches of foreign legations, who prided themselves on their

success in breaking hearts. There were two classes of these foreign

lady-killers. Those of the Castilian type had closely cropped,

coal-black hair, smooth faces, with the exception of a moustache,

and flashing eyes that betrayed an intriguing disposition. The

Saxons (including the British, the Germans, and the Russians) were

tall, slender fellows, with their hair parted in the middle, soft

eyes, and downy side-whiskers. Both sets were exquisitely polite,

courteous in their deportment, and very deferential to those with

whom they conversed. They stigmatized a residence in Washington

after their sojourn at the various capitals of Europe as unendurable;

they intimated that the women of America were "incomplete" and

"fastidious," but their criticisms were so courteous that no one

could muster heart to contradict them. Every year or two, though,

some poor girl was captivated by the glitter of their small talk,

and got more or less scorched before she could be extricated.

[Facsimile]

W. M. Evarts

WILLIAM MAXWELL EVARTS was born at Boston, February 6th, 1818; was

graduated at Yale College in 1837; studied in the Harvard Law

School, and was admitted to the bar in New York in 1841; was Attorney-

General of the United States, July 15th, 1868 - March 3d, 1869;

was counsel for President Johnson on his trial upon his impeachment

in 1868; was counsel for the United States before the Alabama Claims

Tribunal at Geneva, Switzerland, in 1872; was counsel for President

Hayes in behalf of the Republican party before the Electoral

Commission; was Secretary of State of the United States, March

12th, 1877 - March 3d, 1881; and was a United States Senator from

March 4th, 1885.

Perley's reminiscences of sixty years in the national metropolis, v. 1-2 · 第 31 / 47 章