The “Code” says—and, by the way, it is just as good as the Constitution—that the Cabinet shall make first calls on the Vice-President, Supreme Judges, Senators, and Speaker of the House, but General Grant has taken these favored darlings to his bosom and allows them to do just as they please. He says: “The Cabinet is a part of my family; I want them looked upon as such.” So when the Supreme Judges, with Chief Justice Chase at their head, went to pay their respects to the President, on last New Year’s day, they found the President surrounded by his Cabinet, and these haughty men were obliged to bow the knee. Now, there is nothing in nature so free from the elastic qualities as the spine of a judge of the Supreme Court of the United States. As soon as time would allow, Chief Justice Chase addressed a letter to the Chief Magistrate, protesting against such unheard of and altogether unusual proceedings; but Ulysses smoked his cigar whilst he dictated one of those masterly papers of diplomacy, and the military secretary saw that it was safely delivered, and nothing more has been heard of it from that day to this.
The “Code” also says that the President accepts no invitation to dinner. This has heretofore been the custom, not because the President was a man, but because the man was a President, and, therefore, it was necessary to give no citizen cause for complaint, for if the President dines with one neighbor, why not with another? Besides, there are millions who would be glad to share their crust with this man. Ulysses S. Grant proves to the world that he is not above being a man because he has been elected President, and that he has no objection to going out to dinner, provided the viands be substantial and all the beverages pure. But let it be understood, the President does not scatter the bright light of his countenance indiscriminately, for only certain aristocratic dwellings are honored at dinner time by the presence of power.
Two receptions are held at the White House weekly,—one in the daytime, the other in the evening. The first is held on Tuesday, and is called in the newspapers “Mrs. Grant’s reception.” It is held on one of the Cabinet days, and, after the Cabinet consultation is over, the President descends to the Blue Room and aids Mrs. Grant in her arduous undertaking. Heretofore every President’s wife has received by herself, unless some guest happened to be stopping temporarily at the mansion. Mrs. Grant, however, has inaugurated a new order of things. Several women, usually the wives of some of the members of the Cabinet or of the Senators, are invited to the White House to lunch, and afterwards are detained to help do the pleasing work. Imagine a room of blue and gold, satin and ebony, where art, to carry out everything, has not only drawn inspiration from the “Arabian Nights’ Entertainment,” but at the same time has exhausted itself. Then picture our simple American dames, in costume that vies with Victoria’s and Eugenie’s on drawing-room days, each in her appointed place, at the right or the left of the “first lady in the land,” we trow no finer picture of a queen, surrounded by her “maids of honor,” can be found in any monarchy on the face of the globe. These dainty receptions are advertised in the Chronicle to begin at 2 o’clock p. m., but alas! alas! it has happened to our positive knowledge that whilst these dames were lingering over the Presidential lunch table 2 o’clock has come and gone, and in the meantime exasperated American women have doubled their pretty little gloved fist in the East Room, and some have whisked out of the mansion without stopping to pay their respects to the “first lady of the land.” In the name of the masses of the people we ask, can our officials of to-day afford to depart from that simple republican platform of etiquette laid down by the immortal Washington? Can our public men, temporarily in power, safely divorce themselves from that later code laid down by general fitness and substantial common sense?
Whither are we drifting, in a social, republican point of view, when a Senator’s wife tosses her head and says: “Would you think it possible that the wife of a member has had the impertinence to ask me to come and spend an evening socially with her?” To a spectator, looking on this small society side-show, it seems all the more ridiculous, as the Senator-husband is so small that he is scarcely ever heard of either in the country or the Senate, whilst the member in dispute has a fame like the flag of our country.
To a neat little volume, called “Philip’s Washington Described,” we are indebted for a copy of the “Rules” as laid down by General Washington, as well as the “Code,” which was meant to be a new edition of the “Rules,” revised and corrected.
Olivia.
[GENERAL PHIL SHERIDAN.]
The Handsome Warrior Graces the Speaker’s Reception.