White House gossip

by Edna M. Colman

While the President had requested all members of the Garfield Cabinet to remain until Congress convened, the personnel changes began by the end of October. Robert T. Lincoln, Secretary of War, had the distinction of being the only Cabinet officer to continue with President Arthur until the close of his régime.

Thus it was a new set of official faces that greeted the New Year callers.

The reception was at its height when Elisha H. Allen, Hawaiian Minister, wearing the broad sash of the Order of Kamahameha III, after passing down the line greeting new officials and old friends, stepped into the anteroom for his coat and hat and dropped dead. Festivities were at once stopped, doors closed, and all signs of gaiety checked, while gloom again descended upon the mansion where tragedy, death, and sorrow have thrust dark shadows upon every administration.

One of the callers at the reception who had come to pay her respects to the new President and his Cabinet, and who had attracted universal attention, was Dr. Mary E. Walker. In her masculine trousers, formal frock coat, and silk hat, she had vied with the belles in the comment aroused by her clothes, and not even the gorgeous diamonds of Madame de Struvem, wife of the Russian Minister, or the unusually handsome gowns of the new Cabinet ladies, eclipsed hers in interest.

She was the first woman to receive the Medal of Honour from Congress, with a personal testimonial from the President of the United States; the first woman commissioned as assistant army surgeon; the first woman to adopt men’s attire for her permanent dress and then legalize it by obtaining an Act of Congress to authorize her use of it; and also the first woman prisoner of war to be exchanged for a man of her own rank. And all of this grew out of her resentment at having been born a girl and her lifelong rebellion over the limitations hedging the feminine sex.

Always annoyed with the exactions of fashions which she would not follow, as expressed in hoop skirts, high heels, false hair, and rouge, Dr. Mary, at the opening of her professional career, devised and wore what she called the American Reform Costume.

With the opening of the Civil War, Dr. Walker was commissioned a first lieutenant and assistant army surgeon. She served on battlefields and in hospitals, where her use of man’s attire facilitated her work. Her bravery under fire and untiring service for the wounded brought her the Medal of Honour from Congress and the personal thanks of President Lincoln. To the end of her life, she wore her masculine garb and her cherished medal. Her later years were devoted to philanthropy.

The season thus opened by the presidential family, brilliant functions followed one another in rapid succession, and all Washington social leaders joined the official celebrities in the number and splendour of the banquets, balls, dances, and receptions.

President Arthur, “First Gentleman of the Land,” completely revised his social régime, reverting to the formality and exclusiveness of the code planned by General Washington and Alexander Hamilton, although he occasionally dined with friends; and while Mrs. McElroy did no calling, she too reserved the right of dining out. Mrs. McElroy introduced serving tea at her afternoon receptions and refreshments after all other receptions. The formal dinners were the President’s especial delight, occupying whole evenings. They were achievements in gastronomic art, and the elegance of their service made them a distinctive function of the administration.

President Arthur’s position and appearance, and the fact that he was the most eligible widower of the land, made him the target for the attentions and machinations of hosts of women. Mothers with marriageable daughters, engaging widows eager to console and to be consoled, and hosts of romantic girls who visioned the President as the reincarnation of the famous King Arthur, all put forth their most winning smiles in the effort to focus his attention upon themselves. Did he pay a compliment to one, present a posy to another, stroll through the conservatory alone with the wife or daughter of a member of his Cabinet, lo! tongues wagged, shoulders were shrugged, eyebrows lifted, telegrams bore veiled allusions, and gossip had him tagged and all ready for marriage bells to ring. The only difficulty was that the President kept serenely on his way with the same deference and gallantry to all, and eventually any hopes of a White House bride to give society a new sensation in this administration faded before the conviction that a second marriage was not listed upon the presidential calendar of intentions.