White House gossip

by Edna M. Colman

The platform, like the remainder of the great hall, was so cold that the ladies kept their ball dresses covered with their wraps. The reception moved along rapidly, in consequence. The excellent hot supper served to them was most welcome.

Mrs. Grant’s gown, of white satin, was covered entirely by flounces of black Brussels lace and trimmed with lavender. Miss Nellie Grant, the White House belle, who stood by her mother, was much observed in her girlish dress of white illusion over white silk. White flowers furnished the garniture for dress and hair. The gowns of the ladies of the Cabinet were all notable for their elegance and beauty, and while the records of details are meagre, some of the publications of the day did carry enough description to give at least an idea of colours selected, for one account tells that:

“Miss Fish wore a rich pearl-coloured silk, with flounces of point lace, an ermine cape and diamonds; Mrs. Boutwell cameo-tinted silk; Miss Boutwell, light blue silk; Mrs. Cresswell, white silk and black velvet; Mrs. Williams, pearl-coloured satin with cherry trimmings with a bandeau of gold and diamonds in her hair; Mrs. Delano, a pompadour dress of blue and pink; Mrs. Cooke, wife of the District Governor, emerald satin and velvet.”

Contrary to plans, the canaries did not sing. Not a bird vouchsafed a single chirp. Instead, paralyzed with cold, they huddled in little, shivering yellow balls, with their heads tucked under their wings to try to keep from freezing—the fate that befell most of them.

The champagne and ice creams were frozen solid. No one wanted them, but the hot drinks were in demand. The presidential party remained only a short time, and the entire assemblage, after paying twenty dollars apiece for tickets, deserted the “Muslin Palace” before midnight—long before the ball would have been in full swing under comfortable conditions.

With the inaugural ceremonies over, the President had once more to concentrate his attention on his official duties. Vacancies had to be filled. One of the most important was that on the Supreme Court, following the death of Chief Justice Chase on May 7, 1873. Political preference was slinging sledge-hammer blows to and for those whose names were presented.

The passing of Salmon P. Chase marked the close of the public life of one of the best known jurists of the United States. Mr. Chase entered politics about 1841 as an opponent of the extension of slavery, was one of the founders of the Free Soil Party, elected to the Senate in 1849, was twice Governor of Ohio, and served as Secretary of the Treasury in President Lincoln’s Cabinet. He became Chief Justice of the United States in 1864, and in this capacity presided at the impeachment trial of President Johnson. His life’s ambition was thwarted with the election of General Grant to the Presidency; and with his death, adverse fate seemed to descend upon the head of his idolized daughter, Mrs. Kate Chase Sprague, who, from the time she was sixteen, had presided over her father’s home and until his death enjoyed a social leadership of remarkable popularity. As the wife of the handsome, wealthy war Governor of Rhode Island, who was later in the Senate, her position was one of marked prestige and influence.

Following her father’s death, sorrow and disappointment brought about an open rupture with her husband that terminated in divorce. He later married again, but she devoted herself to the upbringing of her children and died in Washington, broken-hearted and disillusioned.

The President was soon confronted with the distressing features of the Crédit Mobilier scandal, murmurs of which had already sent his former Vice President out of office, humiliated and discredited, and the breaking of this gigantic scandal was the advance guard of panic, aggravated later by the Whisky Frauds and the fall of “Boss Tweed.” Although in no way connected, implicated, or responsible for these scandals, they robbed General Grant’s second administration of any glory of achievement by the distressing spectacle of corruption, thievery, and graft disclosed on the part of trusted and honoured government officials.

Like the slowly gathering force of a distant storm, whose thunderings and rumblings warn of the coming fury, so the murmurs, whispers, and threats of retribution, judgment, and disgrace were heard from time to time from the beginning of President Grant’s first term until the close of his second, when certain startling disclosures discredited men high in the counsels of the mighty. It is doubtful if anything in American history will ever create a parallel to the Crédit Mobilier as a vehicle for the display of human passions and emotions from the comic to the tragic. All previous scandals and sensations sank into oblivion beside it. So thoroughly did the proportions of this swindle of the government overwhelm the public mind by the audacity of those implicated that ruin threatened every career involved.