Perley's reminiscences of sixty years in the national metropolis, v. 1-2

by Benjamin Perley Poore

CHAPTER X. FASHION, LITERATURE, AND ART.

Washington "society" refused to be comforted. Those within its charmed circle would not visit the White House, or have any intercourse with the members of the Administration. This gave great annoyance to Mr. Seward, who used diplomatic and consular appointments, commissions, and contracts unsparingly for the purchase of a friendly feeling. At his urgent solicitation the President consented to an evening reception at the White House, by invitation. "I don't fancy this pass business," said the President, good- naturedly, but the metropolitan practicians could not refrain from applying for them. The evening of February 5th, 1862, found the court-yard of the White House filled with carriages and ambulances bringing "fair women and brave men."

The President and Mrs. Lincoln received their guests in the East Room, where he towered above all around him, and had a pleasant word for those he knew. Mrs. Lincoln was dressed in a white satin dress with a low neck and short sleeves. It was trimmed with black lace flounces, which were looped up with knots of ribbon, and she wore a floral head-dress, which was not very becoming. Near her was her eldest son, Mr. Robert Lincoln (known as the Prince of Rails), and Mr. John Hay, the President's intellectual private secretary. In addition to the East Room, the Red, Green, and Blue Parlors (so named from the color of their paper-hangings and the furniture) were open, and were ornamented with a profusion of rare exotics, while the Marine Band, stationed in the corridor, discoursed fine music.

Mr. Seward was in his element, escorting, as in duty bound, the ladies of the Diplomatic Corps. Mr. Chase, the dignified and statesman-like Secretary of the Treasury, seemed to have forgotten for the moment that his coffers were "short." Mr. Stanton, vigorous and thoughtful, was the object of much attention, and the patriarchal locks and beard of the not over-scintillant Secretary of the Navy were, of course, a feature. The other members of the Cabinet were present, as were Justices Clifford, Wayne, and Grier, of the Supreme Court.

Senator Sumner, as Chairman of the Committee on Foreign Relations, was the centre of a diplomatic circle, where all of the "great powers," and some of the smaller ones, were represented. Ladies from the rural districts were disappointed in not seeing the gorgeous court costumes, having forgotten that our court-dress is the undertaker-like suit of black broadcloth so generally worn. But they gazed with admiration upon the broad ribbons and jeweled badges worn on the breasts of the Chevaliers of the Legion of Honor, Knights of the Bath, etc., "with distinguished consideration." Vice-President Hamlin might have called the Senate to order and had more than a quorum of members present, who, like himself, had their wives here to cheer their labors. Mr. Speaker Grow could not see around him so large a proportion of the "Lower House," but there was—so a Kentucky lady said—"a right smart chance of Representatives."

General McClellan, in full uniform, looked finely. Among his staff officers were the French Princes, each wearing a captain's uniform. The Comte de Paris was tall and very handsome, while the Duc du Chartres was taller, thinner, less handsome than his brother. Both were remarkably cordial and affable, and, as they spoke English perfectly, they enjoyed the gay scene. General Fremont, in a plain undress suit, seemed rather downcast, although his devoted wife, "Jessie," more than made up for his moodiness by her animated and vivacious conversation. There were, besides Generals McDowell, Stone, Heintzelman, Blenker, Hancock, Hooker, Keyes, Doubleday, Casey, Shields, and Marcy, with Captain Dahlgren and the Prince Salm-Salm. Of those present many fought, and some fell, on the various fields of the next three dreadful years. There were others who were destined to do their duty and yet be mistaken and defrauded of their just inheritance of glory. Such was the fortune of war.

An incident of the evening was the presentation of General Fremont to General McClellan by President Lincoln. General Fremont was in the hall, evidently about to leave, as Mrs. Fremont had her shawl on, and Senator Sumner was escorting her toward the door, when the President went after them, and soon turned toward the East Room, with the Pathfinder at his side, Senator Sumner and Mrs. Fremont following. The presentation was made, and a few remarks were exchanged by the Generals, two men who were destined to exert a marked influence on the future destiny of the nation.

A magnificent supper had been provided in the state dining-room by Maillard, of New York, but when the hour of eleven came, and the door should have been opened, the flustered steward had lost the key, so that there was a hungry crowd waiting anxiously outside the unyielding portal. Then the irrepressible humor of the American people broke forth—that grim humor which carried them through the subsequent misery. "I am in favor of a forward movement!" one would exclaim. "An advance to the front is only retarded by the imbecility of commanders," said another, quoting a speech just made in Congress. To all this General McClellan, himself modestly struggling with the crowd, laughed as heartily as anybody. Finally the key was found, the door opened, and the crowd fed.

The table was decorated with large pieces of ornamental confectionery, the centre object representing the steamer "Union," armed and bearing the "Stars and Stripes." On a side table was a model of Fort Sumter, also in sugar, and provisioned with game. After supper promenading was resumed, and it was three o'clock ere the guests departed. The entertainment was pronounced a decided success, but it was compared to the ball given by the Duchess of Richmond, at Brussels, the night before Waterloo. People parted there never to meet again. Many a poor fellow took his leave that night of festivity forever, the band playing, as he left, "The Girl I Left Behind Me."

The Abolitionists throughout the country were merciless in their criticisms of the President and Mrs. Lincoln for giving this reception when the soldiers of the Union were in cheerless bivouacs or comfortless hospitals, and a Philadelphia poet wrote a scandalous ode on the occasion, entitled "The Queen Must Dance."