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.