“Disputed state after disputed state was disposed of, and Washington was stirred with feverish excitement. Every day or two, some rumour was started, and those who heard it were elated or depressed, as they happened to hope. But the great mass listened with many grains of allowance, knowing how easy it is at all times for all sorts of stories, utterly without foundation, to get into the public mouth. The obstructionists found that they could not accomplish their purpose to defeat the final announcement, but their persistence was wonderful. They were desperate, reckless, and relentless. Fernando Wood headed, in opposition to them, the party of settlement and peace, his followers being composed in about equal parts of Republicans and of ex-Confederates who turned their backs on the Democratic filibusters. Finally, the count was ended, and President pro tem. Ferry announced one hundred and eighty-four votes for Samuel J. Tilden and one hundred and eighty-five votes for Rutherford B. Hayes.”
While President Hayes was struggling with portfolios and patronage and combatting the handicap his election struggle imposed, his wife was engrossed with the multitude of duties that devolved upon her as First Lady of the Land.
Her appearance in Washington had been awaited with unabated interest, and speculation was rife over Mrs. Grant’s successor and the social régime to follow. Mary Clemmer Ames wrote thus of Mrs. Hayes at the public inauguration:
“Meanwhile, on this man of whom everyone in the nation is this moment thinking, a fair woman between two little children looked down. She has a singularly gentle and winning face. It looks out from the bands of smooth dark hair with that tender light in the eyes which we have come to associate with a Madonna. I have never seen such a face reign in the White House. I wonder what the world of vanity fair will do with it! Will it frizz that hair? Powder that face? Drive those sweet, fine lines away with pride? Bare those shoulders? Shorten those sleeves? Hide John Wesley’s discipline out of sight as it poses and minces before the First Lady of the Land? What will she do with it, this woman of the house and home? The Lord in heaven knows. All that I know is that Mr. and Mrs. Hayes are the finest looking type of man and woman I have seen take up their abode in the White House.”
When Mrs. Hayes was preparing to come to Washington, she was beset, as befalls every incumbent of the office, with many suggestions as to the White House etiquette and the type of functions to be held there. Possessed of decided independence of thought and action, she felt that her family and official position in Ohio would enable her to decide as to the form of her social régime. Although Mrs. Hayes had been reared a strong temperance woman, wines had always been in use in her family, though not served at their tables. During the war, when she went to camp, she never failed to carry liquors for the sick.
She had always maintained that every woman should be absolute mistress of her own home and dictate its policy. If she wished to serve wines, she would certainly do so. On the other hand, she reserved the right to decline to serve them, whether the home over which she was mistress was in Ohio or the White House.
The zealots of temperance in search of a new sensation to spring to advance their course seized upon this attitude of hers as an opening for a definite commitment of a policy emanating from the White House as a national example. Soon after Mrs. Hayes arrived at the White House, the wife of a minister visited her and begged her earnestly to forbid the use of liquor and wines in the mansion during her régime. Mrs. Hayes was somewhat surprised at the request; she did not commit herself as to what stand she would take, but replied:
“Madame, it is my husband, not myself, who is President. I think a man who is capable of filling so important a position, as I believe my husband to be, is quite competent to establish such rules as will obtain in his house without calling on members of other households. I would not offend you, and I would not offend Mr. Hayes, who knows what is due to his position, his family and himself, without any interference of others directly or through his wife.”
The President and Mrs. Hayes conferred over this matter and were agreed that, to secure the greatest good to the greatest number, it would be well for them to advocate and practise total abstinence. Consequently, when the new mistress of the White House made her plans for her first functions, the use of wines was tabooed. This statement created a furore of criticism, ridicule, and protest among the Cabinet and official and social leaders, many going so far as to predict international complications, since the absence of liquors at state functions would be regarded as an affront by the diplomats. Not even cartoons or the sneering title “Lemonade Lucy” moved her: Mrs. Hayes remained firm, and wine remained absent from her table—and no complications ensued, though, from the Cabinet down, the President and his wife were besought to change this dictum, “for the honour of the country,” as many expressed it.
Among the letters of Rutherford B. Hayes, one dated Spiegel Grove, Fremont Park, March 10, 1891, published for the Hayes Memorial Library, regarding the absence of wines during his administration, says in part: