The incidents of the next two days previous to her attendance at the
evening reception at the White House restored Selma's equanimity. She
had the satisfaction of being present at the opening ceremonies of the
House of Representatives, and of beholding her husband take the oath of
office. She was proud of Lyons as she looked down on him from the
gallery standing in the aisle by his allotted seat. He was holding an
improvised reception, for a number of his colleagues showed themselves
desirous to make his acquaintance. She noticed that he appeared already
on familiar terms with some of his fellow-members; that he drew men or
was drawn aside for whispered confidences; that he joked knowingly with
others; and that always as he chatted his large, round, smooth face,
relieved by its chin beard, wore an aspect of bland dignity and shrewd
reserve wisdom. It pleased her to be assisting at the dedication of a
fresh page of national history--a page yet unwritten, but on which she
hoped that her own name would be inscribed sooner or later by those who
should seek to trace the complete causes of her husband's usefulness and
genius.
Another source of satisfaction was the visit paid them the day before at
the hotel by one of the United States Senators from their own State--Mr.
Calkins. The two political parties in their own State were so evenly
divided that one of the Senators in office happened to be a Republican
and his colleague a Democrat. Mr. Calkins belonged to her husband's
party, yet he suggested that they might enjoy a private audience with
the President, with whom, notwithstanding political differences of
opinion, Mr. Calkins was on friendly terms. This was the sort of thing
which Selma aspired to, and the experience did much to lighten her
heart. She enjoyed the distinction of seeing guarded doors open at their
approach, and of finding herself shaking hands with the chief magistrate
of the nation at a special interview. The President was very affable,
and was manifestly aware of Lyons's triumph at the expense of his own
party, and of his consequent political importance. He treated the matter
banteringly, and Selma was pleased at her ability to enter into the
spirit of his persiflage and to reciprocate. In her opinion solemnity
would have been more consistent with his position as the official
representative of the people of the United States, and his jocose
manifestations at a time when serious conversation seemed to be in order
was a disappointment, and tended to confirm her previous distrust of him
as the leader of the opposite party. She had hoped he would broach some
vital topics of political interest, and that she would have the
opportunity to give expression to her own views in regard to public
questions. Nevertheless, as the President saw fit to be humorous, she
was glad that she understood how to meet and answer his bantering
sallies. She felt sure that Lyons, were he ever to occupy this dignified
office, would refrain from ill-timed levity, but she bore in mind also
the policy of conciliation which she had learned from her husband, and
concealed her true impressions. She noticed that both Lyons and Mr.
Calkins forebore to show dissatisfaction, and she reflected that, though
the President's tone was light, there was nothing else in his appearance
or bearing to convict him of sympathy with lack of enthusiasm and with
cynicism. It would have destroyed all the enjoyment of her interview had
she been forced to conclude that a man who did not take himself and his
duties seriously could be elected President of the United States. She
was not willing to believe this; but her suspicions were so far aroused
that she congratulated herself that her political opponents were
responsible for his election. Nevertheless she was delighted by the
distinction of the private audience, and by the episode at its close,
which gave her opportunity to show her individuality. Said the President
gallantly as she was taking leave:
"Will you permit me to congratulate Congressman Lyons on his good
fortune in the affairs of the heart as well as in politics?"
"If you say things like that, Mr. President," interjected Lyons, "you
will turn her head; she will become a Republican, and then where should
I be?"
While she perceived that the President was still inclined to levity, the
compliment pleased Selma. Yet, though she appreciated that her husband
was merely humoring him by his reply, she did not like the suggestion
that any flattery could affect her principles. She shook her head
coquettishly and said:
"James, I'm sure the President thinks too well of American women to
believe that any admiration, however gratifying, would make me lukewarm
in devotion to my party."
This speech appeared to her apposite and called for, and she departed in
high spirits, which were illuminated by the thought that the
administration was not wholly to be trusted.
On the following evening Selma went to the reception at the White House.
The process of arrival was trying to her patience, for they were obliged
to await their turn in the long file of carriages. She could not but
approve of the democratic character of the entertainment, which anyone
who desired to behold and shake hands with the Chief Magistrate was free
to attend. Still, it again crossed her mind that, as an official's wife,
she ought to have been given precedence. Their turn to alight came at
last, and they took their places in the procession of visitors on its
way through the East room to the spot where the President and his wife,
assisted by some of the ladies of the Cabinet, were submitting to the
ordeal of receiving the nation. There was a veritable crush, in which
there was every variety of evening toilette, a display essentially in
keeping with the doctrines which Selma felt that she stood for. She took
occasion to rejoice in Lyons's ear at the realization of her
anticipations in this respect. At the same time she was agreeably
stimulated by the belief that her wedding dress was sumptuous and
stylish, and her appearance striking. Her hair had been dressed as
elaborately as possible; she wore all her jewelry; and she carried a
bouquet of costly roses. Her wish was to regard the function as the
height of social demonstration, and she had spared no pains to make
herself effective. She had esteemed it her duty to do so both as a
Congressman's wife and as a champion of moral and democratic ideas.
The crowd was oppressive, and three times the train of her dress was
stepped on to her discomfiture. Amid the sea of faces she recognized a
few of the people she had seen at the hotel. It struck her that no one
of the women was dressed so elegantly as herself, an observation which
cheered her and yet was not without its thorn. But the music, the
lights, and the variegated movement of the scene kept her senses
absorbed and interfered with introspection, until at last they were
close to the receiving party. Selma fixed her eyes on the President,
expecting recognition. Like her husband, the President possessed a gift
of faces and the faculty of rallying all his energies to the important
task of remembering who people were. An usher asked and announced the
names, but the Chief Magistrate's perceptions were kept hard at work.
His "How do you do, Congressman Lyons? I am very glad to see you here,
Mrs. Lyons," were uttered with a smiling spontaneity, which to his own
soul meant a momentary agreeable relaxation of the nerves of memory,
resembling the easy flourish with which a gymnast engaged in lifting
heavy weights encounters a wooden dumb-bell. But though his eyes and
voice were flattering, Selma had barely completed the little bob of a
courtesy which accompanied her act of shaking hands when she discovered
that the machinery of the national custom was not to halt on their
account, and that she must proceed without being able to renew the half
flirtatious interview of the previous day. She proceeded to courtesy to
the President's wife and to the row of wives of members of the Cabinet
who were assisting. Before she could adequately observe them, she found
herself beyond and a part once more of a heterogeneous crush, the
current of which she aimlessly followed on her husband's arm. She was
suspicious of the device of courtesying. Why had not the President's
wife and the Cabinet ladies shaken hands with her and given her an
opportunity to make their acquaintance? Could it be that the
administration was aping foreign manners and adopting effete and
aristocratic usages?
"What do we do now?" she asked of Lyons as they drifted along.
"I'd like to find Horace Elton and introduce him to you. I caught a
glimpse of him further on just before we reached the President. Horace
knows all the ropes and can tell us who everybody is."
Selma had heard her husband refer to Horace Elton on several occasions
in terms of respectful and somewhat mysterious consideration. She had
gathered in a general way that he was a far reaching and formidable
power in matters political and financial, besides being the president
and active organizer of the energetic corporation known as the
Consumers' Gas Light Company of their own state. As they proceeded she
kept her eyes on the alert for a man described by Lyons as short,
heavily built, and neat looking, with small side whiskers and a
close-mouthed expression. When they were not far from the door of exit
from the East room, some one on the edge of the procession accosted her
husband, who drew her after him in that direction. Selma found herself
in a sort of eddy occupied by half a dozen people engaged in observing
the passing show, and in the presence of Mr. and Mrs. Gregory Williams.
It was Mr. Williams who had diverted them. He now renewed his
acquaintance with her, exclaiming--"My wife insisted that she had met
you driving with some one she believed to be your husband. I had heard
that Congressman Lyons was on his bridal tour, and now everything is
clear. Flossy, you were right as usual, and it seems that our hearty
congratulations are in order to two old friends."
Williams spoke with his customary contagious confidence. Selma noted
that he was stouter and that his hair was becomingly streaked with gray.
Had not her attention been on the lookout for his wife she might have
noticed that his eye wore a restless, strained expression despite his
august banker's manner and showy gallantry. She did observe that the
moment he had made way for Flossy he turned to Lyons and began to talk
to him in a subdued tone under the guise of watching the procession.
The two women confronted each other with spontaneous forgetfulness of
the past. There was a shade of haughtiness in Selma's greeting. She was
prepared to respect her husband's policy and to ignore the circumstances
under which they had parted, but she wished Flossy to understand that
this was an act of condescension on her part as a Congressman's wife,
whose important social status was beyond question. She was so thoroughly
imbued with this sense of her indisputable superiority that she readily
mistook Flossy's affability for fawning; whereas that young woman's
ingenuous friendliness was the result of a warning sentence from Gregory
when Selma and her husband were seen approaching--"Keep a check on your
tongue, Floss. This statesman with a beard like a goat is likely to have
a political future."
"I felt sure it was you the other day," Flossy said with smiling
sprightliness, "but I had not heard of your marriage to Mr. Lyons."
"We were married at Benham six weeks ago. We are to live in Benham. We
have bought the house there which belonged to Mr. Parsons. We have just
returned from visiting the superb scenery of the Yosemite and the Rocky
Mountains, and it made me prouder than ever of my country. If
Congressman Lyons had not been obliged to be present at the opening of
Congress, we should have spent our honeymoon in Europe."
"Gregory and I passed last summer abroad yachting. We crossed on a
steamer and had our yacht meet us there. Isn't it a jam to-night?"
"There seem to be a great many people. I suppose you came on from New
York on purpose for this reception?"
"Mercy, no. We are staying with friends, and we hadn't intended to come
to-night. But we had been dining out and were dressed, so we thought
we'd drop in and show our patriotism. It's destruction to clothes, and
I'm glad I haven't worn my best."
Selma perceived Flossy's eye making a note of her own elaborate costume,
and the disagreeable suspicion that she was overdressed reasserted
itself. She had already observed that Mrs. Williams's toilette, though
stylish, was comparatively simple. How could one be overdressed on such
an occasion? What more suitable time for an American woman to wear her
choicest apparel than when paying her respects to the President of the
United States? She noticed that Flossy seemed unduly at her ease as
though the importance of the ceremony was lost on her, and that they
group of people with whom Flossy had been talking and who stood a little
apart were obviously indulging in quiet mirth at the expense of some of
those in the procession.
"Are the friends with whom you are staying connected with the
Government?" Selma asked airily.
"Official people? Goodness, no. But I can point out to you who everybody
is, for we have been in Washington frequently during the last three
sessions. Gregory has to run over here on business every now and then,
and I almost always come with him. To-night is the opportunity to see
the queer people in all their glory--the woolly curiosities, as Gregory
calls them. And a sprinkling of the real celebrities too," she added.
Selma's inquiry had been put with a view to satisfy herself that
Flossy's friends were mere civilians. But she was glad of an opportunity
to be enlightened as to the names of her fellow-officials, though she
resented Flossy's flippant tone regarding the character of the
entertainment. While she listened to the breezy, running commentary by
which Flossy proceeded to identify for her benefit the conspicuous
figures in the procession she nursed her offended sensibilities.
"I should suppose," she said, taking advantage of a pause, "that on such
an occasion as this everybody worth knowing would be present."
Flossy gave Selma one of her quick glances. She had not forgotten the
past, nor her discovery of the late Mrs. Littleton's real grievance
against her and the world. Nor did she consider that her husband's
caveat debarred her from the amusement of worrying the wife of the Hon.
James O. Lyons, provided it could be done by means of the truth
ingenuously uttered. She said with a confidential smile--
"The important and the interesting political people have other
opportunities to meet one another--at dinner parties and less
promiscuous entertainments than this, and the Washington people have
other opportunities to meet them. Of course the President is a dear, and
everyone makes a point of attending a public reception once in a while,
but this sort of thing isn't exactly an edifying society event. For
instance, notice the woman in the pomegranate velvet with two diamond
sprays in her hair. That's the wife of Senator Colman--his child wife,
so they call her. She came to Washington six years ago as the wife of a
member of the House from one of the wild and woolly States, and was
notorious then in the hotel corridors on account of her ringletty raven
hair and the profusion of rings she wore. She used to make eyes at the
hotel guests and romp with her husband's friends in the hotel parlors,
which was the theatre of her social activities. Her husband died, and a
year ago she married old Senator Colman, old enough to be her
grandfather, and one of the very rich and influential men in the Senate.
Now she has developed social ambition and is anxious to entertain. They
have hired a large house for the winter and are building a larger one.
As Mrs. Polsen--that was her first husband's name--she was invited
nowhere except to wholesale official functions like this. The wife of a
United States Senator with plenty of money can generally attract a
following; she is somebody. And it happens that people are amused by
Mrs. Cohnan's eccentricities. She still overdresses, and makes eyes, and
she nudges those who sit next her at table, but she is good-natured,
says whatever comes into her head, and has a strong sense of humor. So
she is getting on."
"Getting on among society people?" said Selma drily.
Flossy's eyes twinkled. "Society people is the generic name used for
them in the newspapers. I mean that she is making friends among the
women who live in the quarter where I passed you the other day."
Selma frowned. "It is not necessary, I imagine, to make friends of that
class in order to have influence in Washington,--the best kind of
influence. I can readily believe that people of that sort would interest
most of our public women very little."
"Very likely. I don't think you quite understand me, Mrs. Lyons, or we
are talking at cross purposes. What I was trying to make clear is that
political and social prominence in Washington are by no means
synonimous. Of course everyone connected with the government who
desires to frequent Washington society and is socially available is
received with open arms; but, if people are not socially available, it
by no means follows that they are able to command social recognition
merely because they hold political office,--except perhaps in the case
of wives of the Cabinet, of the Justices of the Supreme Court, or of
rich and influential Senators, where a woman is absolutely bent on
success and takes pains. I refer particularly to the wives, because a
single man, if he is reasonably presentable and ambitious, can go about
more or less, even if he is a little rough, for men are apt to be
scarce. But the line is drawn on the women unless they are--er--really
important and have to be tolerated for official reasons. Now every woman
who is not _persona grata_, as the diplomats say, anywhere else, is apt
to attend the President's reception in all her finery, and that's why I
suggested that this sort of thing isn't exactly an edifying social
event. It's amusing to come here now and then, just as it's amusing to
go to a menagerie. You see what I mean, don't you?" Flossy asked, plying
her feathery fan with blithe nonchalance and looking into her
companion's face with an innocent air.
"I understand perfectly. And who are these people who draw the line?"
"It sometimes happens," continued Flossy abstractedly, without appearing
to hear this inquiry, "that they improve after they've been in
Washington a few years. Take Mrs. Baker, the Secretary of the Interior's
wife, receiving to-night. When her husband came to Washington three
years ago she had the social adaptability of a solemn horse. But she
persevered and learned, and now as a Cabinet lady she unbends, and is no
longer afraid of compromising her dignity by wearing becoming clothes
and smiling occasionally. But you were asking who the people are who
draw the line. The nice people here just as everywhere else; the people
who have been well educated and have fine sensibilities, and who believe
in modesty, and unselfishness and thorough ways of doing things. You
must know the sort of people I mean. Some of them make too much of mere
manners, but as a class they are able to draw the line because they draw
it in favor of distinction of character as opposed to--what shall I call
it?--haphazard custom-made ethics and social deportment."
Flossy spoke with the artless prattle of one seeking to make herself
agreeable to a new-comer by explaining the existing order of things, but
she had chosen her words as she proceeded with special reference to her
listener's case. There was nothing in her manner to suggest that she was
trifling with the feelings of the wife of Hon. James O. Lyons, but to
Selma's sensitive ear there was no doubt that the impertinent and
unpatriotic tirade had been deliberately aimed at her. The closing words
had a disagreeably familiar sound. Save that they fell from seemingly
friendly lips they recalled the ban which Flossy had hurled at her at
the close of their last meeting--the ban which had decided her to
declare unwavering hostility against social exclusiveness. Its veiled
reiteration now made her nerves tingle, but the personal affront stirred
her less than the conclusion, which the whole of Flossy's commentary
suggested, that Washington--Washington the hearth-stone of American
ideals, was contaminated also. Flossy had given her to understand that
the houses which she had assumed to be occupied by members of the
Government were chiefly the residences of people resembling in character
those whom she had disapproved of in New York. Flossy had intimated that
unless a woman were hand in glove with these people and ready to lower
herself to their standards, she must be the wife of a rich Senator to be
tolerated. Flossy had virtually told her that a Congressman's wife was
nobody. Could this be true? The bitterest part of all was that it was
evident Flossy spoke with the assurance of one uttering familiar truths.
Selma felt affronted and bitterly disappointed, but she chose to meet
Mrs. Williams's innocent affability with composure; to let her see that
she disagreed with her, but not to reveal her personal irritation. She
must consider Lyons, whose swift political promotion was necessary for
her plans. It was important that he should become rich, and if his
relations with the firm of Williams & Van Horne tended to that end, no
personal grievance of her own should disturb them. Even Flossy had
conceded that the wives of the highest officials could not be ignored.
"I fear that we look at these matters from too different a standpoint to
discuss them further," she responded, with an effort at smiling ease.
"Evidently you do not appreciate that to the majority of the strong
women of the country whose husbands have been sent to Washington as
members of the Government social interests seem trivial compared with
the great public questions they are required to consider. These women
doubtless feel little inclination for fashionable and--or--frivolous
festivities, and find an occasion like this better suited to their
conception of social dignity."
A reply by Flossy to this speech was prevented by the interruption of
Lyons, who brought up Mr. Horace Elton for introduction to his wife.
Selma knew him at once from his likeness to the description which her
husband had given. He was portly and thick-set, with a large neck, a
strong, unemotional, high-colored face, and closely-shaven, small side
whiskers. He made her a low bow and, after a few moments of
conversation, in the course of which he let fall a complimentary
allusion to her husband's oratorical abilities and gave her to
understand that he considered Lyons's marriage as a wise and enviable
proceeding, he invited her to promenade the room on his arm. Mr. Elton
had a low but clear and dispassionate voice, and a concise utterance.
His remarks gave the impression that he could impart more on any subject
if he chose, and that what he said proceeded from a reserve fund of
special, secret knowledge, a little of which he was willing to confide
to his listener. He enlightened Selma in a few words as to a variety of
the people present, accompanying his identification with a phrase or two
of comprehensive personal detail, which had the savor of being unknown
to the world at large.
"The lady we just passed, Mrs. Lyons, is the wife of the junior Senator
from Nevada. Her husband fell in love with her on the stage of a mining
town theatrical troupe. That tall man, with the profuse wavy hair and
prominent nose, is Congressman Ross of Colorado, the owner of one of the
largest cattle ranches in the Far West. It is said that he has never
smoked, never tasted a glass of liquor, and never gambled in his life."
In the course of these remarks Mr. Elton simply stated his interesting
facts without comment. He avoided censorious or satirical allusions to
the people to whom he called Selma's attention. On the contrary, his
observations suggested sympathetically that he desired to point out to
her the interesting personalities of the capital, and that he regarded
the entertainment as an occasion to behold the strong men and women of
the country in their lustre and dignity. As they passed the lady in
pomegranate velvet, Selma said, in her turn, "That is Mrs. Colman, I
believe. Senator Colman's child wife." She added what was in her
thoughts, "I understand that the society people here have taken her up."
"Yes. She has become a conspicuous figure in Washington. I remember her,
Mrs. Lyons, when she was Addie Farr--before she married Congressman
Polsen of Kentucky. She was a dashing looking girl in those days, with
her black eyes and black ringlets. I remember she had a coltish way of
tossing her head. The story is that when she accepted Polsen another
Kentuckian--a young planter--who was in love with her, drank laudanum.
Now, as you say, she is being taken up socially, and her husband, the
Senator, is very proud of her success. After all, if a woman is
ambitious and has tact, what can she ask better than to be the wife of a
United States Senator?" He paused a moment, then, with a gallant
sidelong glance at his companion, resumed in a concise whisper, which
had the effect of a disclosure, "Prophecies, especially political
prophecies, are dangerous affairs, but it seems to me not improbable
that before many years have passed the wife of Senator Lyons will be
equally prominent--be as conspicuous socially as the wife of Senator
Colman."
Selma blushed, but not wholly with pleasure. Socially conspicuous before
many years? The splendid prophecy, which went beyond the limit of Horace
Elton's usual caution--for he combined the faculty of habitual
discretion with his chatty proclivities--was dimmed for Selma by the
rasping intimation that she was not conspicuous yet. Worse still, his
statement shattered the hope, which Flossy's fluent assertions had
already disturbed, that she was to find in Washington a company of
congenial spirits who would appreciate her at her full value forthwith,
and would join with her and under her leadership in resisting the
encroachments of women of the stamp of Mrs. Williams.
"I am very ambitious for my husband, Mr. Elton, and of course I have
hoped--do hope that some day he will be a Senator. What you said just
now as to the power of his voice to arouse the moral enthusiasm of the
people seemed to be impressively true. I should be glad to be a
Senator's wife, for--for I wish to help him. I wish to demonstrate the
truth of the principles to which both our lives are dedicated. But I
hoped that I might help him now--that my mission might be clear at once.
It seems according to you that a Congressman's wife is not of much
importance; that her hands are tied."
"Practically so, unless--unless she has unusual social facility, and the
right sort of acquaintances. Beauty, wealth and ambition are valuable
aids, but I always am sorry for women who come here without friends,
and--er--the right sort of introduction. At any rate, to answer your
question frankly, a Congressman's wife has her spurs to win just as he
has. If you were to set up house-keeping, here, Mrs. Lyons, I've no
doubt that a woman of your attractions and capabilities would soon make
a niche for herself. You have had social experience, which Addie Farr,
for instance, was without."
"I lived in New York for some years with my husband, Mr. Littleton, so I
have a number of Eastern acquaintances."
"I remember you were talking with Mrs. Gregory Williams when I was
introduced to you. The people with whom she is staying are among the
most fashionable in Washington. What I said had reference to the wife of
the every-day Congressman who comes to Washington expecting recognition.
Not to Mrs. James O. Lyons."
Selma bit her lip. She recognized the death-knell of her cherished
expectations. She was not prepared to acknowledge formally her
discomfiture and her disappointment. But she believed that Mr. Elton,
though a plain man, had comprehensive experience and that he spoke with
shrewd knowledge of the situation. She felt sure that he was not trying
to deceive or humiliate her. It was clear that Washington was
contaminated also.
"I dare say I should get on here well enough after a time, though I
should find difficulty in considering that it was right to give so much
time to merely social matters. But Mr. Lyons and I have already decided
that I can be more use to him at present in Benham. There I feel at
home. I am known, and have my friends, and there I have important
work--literary lectures and the establishment of a large public hospital
under way. If the time comes, as you kindly predict, that my husband is
chosen a United States Senator, I shall be glad to return here and
accept the responsibilities of our position. But I warn you, Mr.
Elton,--I warn the people of Washington," she added with a wave of her
fan, while her eyes sparkled with a stern light "that when I am one of
their leaders, I shall do away with some of the--er--false customs of
the present administration. I shall insist on preserving our American
social traditions inviolate."
Here was the grain of consolation in the case, which she clutched at and
held up before her mind's eye as a new stimulus to her patriotism and
her conscience. Both Mr. Elton and Flossy had indicated that there was a
point at which exclusiveness was compelled to stop in its haughty
disregard of democratic ideals. There were certain women whom the people
who worshipped lack of enthusiasm and made an idol of cynicism were
obliged to heed and recognize. They might be able to ignore the
intelligence and social originality of a Congressman's wife, but they
dared not turn a cold shoulder on the wife of a United States Senator.
And if a woman--if she were to occupy this proud position, what a
satisfaction it would be to assert the power which belonged to it;
assert it in behalf of the cause for which she had suffered so much! Her
disappointment tasted bitterly in her mouth, and she was conscious of
stern revolt; but the new hope had already taken possession of her
fancy, and she hastened to prove it by the ethical standard without
which all hopes were valueless to her. Even now had anyone told her that
the ruling passion of her life was to be wooed and made much of by the
very people she professed to despise, she would have spurned the accuser
as a malicious slanderer. Nor indeed would it have been wholly true.
Mrs. Williams had practically told her this at their last meeting in New
York, and its utterance had convinced her on the contrary of repugnance
to them, and of her desire to be the leader of a social protest against
them. Now here, in Washington of all places, she was confronted by the
bitter suggestion that she was without allies, and that her enemies were
the keepers of the door which led to leadership and power. Despondency
stared her in the face, but a splendid possibility--aye probability was
left. She would not forsake her principles. She would not lower her
flag. She would return to Benham. Washington refused her homage now, but
it should listen to her and bow before her some day as the wife of one
of the real leaders of the State, whom Society did not dare to ignore.