[PROFESSOR MELAH.]
The Functionary in Charge of State Dinners at the White House.
Washington, March 8, 1870.
With the termination of the present week we have the last state dinner at the White House. That event probably marks the close of the fashionable season. With the New Year these dinners are inaugurated, and every Wednesday of each week the President is expected to entertain a given number of Senators and Members. Thirty-six persons only can be seated in the banqueting hall of the Executive Mansion, consequently it is impossible that all the people’s representatives, during one season, shall have the honor of crossing their feet under the national mahogany. If the President would follow the custom of other nations, and invite only men to these official banquets, it would happen that all, or nearly all, of our Congressmen would be thus honored yearly. But the fairer portion of creation is mixed ingeniously in these highly important state matters. Consequently the same number of public men are obliged to dine elsewhere. In the infancy of the Republic the President had time to bestow upon his guests, as well as plenty of room, to entertain the nation’s limited number of Congressmen. In those days women were necessary to fill up the chinks of conversation; at the same time no public man was left out in the cold for a whole year because his seat was taken. It has now become a matter of great delicacy to choose who shall be invited to the White House, and who shall not; but no President has given less offence than the present Executive. It is, however, only amongst the women, who are the social rulers at the capital, that any feeling is expressed, for the Congressmen who declare state dinners to be “bores,” and those who escape the trial, consider themselves fortunate.
The “state dining-room” at the White House is a handsome apartment. A long table, rounded at the ends, extends through the middle of it, at which thirty-six can be comfortably seated. There is plenty of room besides for the servants to perform their duties admirably. New mirrors and chandeliers have been added since the administration of President Grant, but the carpets, upholstering, and papering have descended from Johnson’s regime. The exquisite taste of Martha Patterson is seen on the daintily tinted walls, the figures of the carpet so nicely adjusted to the size of the room, the dark green satin damask at the windows, and the quaint chairs, under her supervision, arranged to match. A clock as ancient as the days of Madison adorns one of the marble mantels, whilst a pair of hydra-headed candlesticks, grim with age, descended from nobody knows whose brief reign, grace the other. With the exception of a pair of modern mahogany sideboards, the furniture seems to have belonged to the eras of Washington or Jefferson, it is so solid and sombre. The White House was modeled after the palace of the Duke of Leister, and the state dining-room, more than any other part of the building, is suggestive of a baronial hall. But if there is one thing more than another from which the state dining-room suffers it is from a dearth of silver. “Steward Melah,” the silver-voiced Italian whom the Government employs to look after this part of its business, actually wrings his hands with terror and dismay when he “sets” the table for state occasions. “Why, madame,” says Melah, “there isn’t enough silver in the White House to set a respectable free-lunch table.” Now, the incomparable Melah has been steward at the Everett House, Boston, the Astor, New York, the Stetson at Long Branch, the St. Charles, New Orleans, and having served in these first-class capacities it may be possible that his ideas are too exalted for the same kind of work in the White House. It must be remembered that all these state dinners are paid for out of the President’s private purse. The President, however, had put this delicate matter into Steward Melah’s hands, and the Italian “gets up” a dinner according to the quality of the guests. These dinners cost from three to fifteen hundred dollars, though the average cost is about seven hundred. The state dinner of which Prince Arthur had the honor of partaking was composed of nine courses, and cost fifteen hundred dollars; but it is only when royalty is to be entertained that these feasts assume such costly proportions. This modest sum does not include the wine and other beverages, for these come under a separate “item.” In no other administration has the Government appointed a man to spend the President’s money. Heretofore the “ladies of the White House” have looked after this part of the official business, and it will at once be seen what frugality is necessary in order to make both ends of the Presidential year meet; but no man during the existence of the Republic has ever been the recipient of so many costly gifts as the Executive, and he reflects honor in return by his unexampled and reciprocal generosity.
A rare work of art adorns the center of the long table in the state dining-room. It is several feet long, and perhaps two feet wide, and is composed of gilt and looking-glass. The foundation is a long mirror, and this is beached by a perpendicular shore three inches in height, but of no appreciable thickness. Little fern-like upheavings may be seen rising out of the tawdry gilt at equal distances apart, and these are used as receptacles for natural flowers. But, lest the guests should look into this mirror, and see each other’s faces reflected, at moments, too, when the human mouth assumes anything but poetic proportions, large vases of flowers are strewn on its glassy surface, and the mischief of the mirror is nipped in the bud. The ornament is not merely ornamental; it is useful. It answers the very purpose to help out a social ambuscade, for it can be so arranged as to hide the President from any guest from whose presence he is suffering, whether the said person comes under the head of enemy or friend. Conversation at a state dinner cannot be general. Each guest must depend upon his own neighborhood. The quality of the conversation depends entirely upon the kind of people who manufacture it. Mike Walsh terrified Mrs. Franklin Pierce at a state dinner by talking about “going a fishing on Sunday.” A modern Congressman filled up the official time between each mouthful by telling his next lady the exact things which his palate craved. He didn’t like “French dishes” but he was “fond of pork and beans, as well as ice-cream and canned peaches.” No doubt the word “Jenkins” will be flung at your correspondent for these social criticisms; but gentleman is the highest term which can be applied to a politician, and the people have just as much right to a description of an official dinner as any other public event, especially when the Government employs a public functionary in the person of Steward Melah to see the dignity of the nation carried to the perfection point.
Once upon a time an accomplished young American woman had the honor to dine with the Czar of all the Russias. During the royal entertainment a plate of delicious grapes was passed around. It is true the young lady saw the golden knife which rested on the side of the basket, but as the fruit came to her first she had no way of learning its use; so she did just as she would have done in America—she reached out her dainty fingers and lifted from the dish a whole stem of grapes. What was her consternation to see the next person, as well as all the other guests, take the golden knife and sever a single grape each, and transfer it to their plates. Had a young Russian lady in this country helped herself to a whole chicken the error would have been precisely the same. It is true the young woman committed no crime, but her feelings and those of her friends would have been spared had she learned the etiquette of royal tables before she became an Emperor’s guest.
A man who will go to a state dinner, eat with his knife, and remain ignorant of the use of his finger bowl, should be expelled from Congress, and ever afterwards be prohibited from holding any place of trust under the Government. Who does not long for the good old “courtly” days of Hamilton and Jefferson? The writer of this letter has once during the winter had the supreme honor of seeing a gentleman of the old school hand a lady to her carriage. Oh! that an artist had been on the spot to photograph this noble picture. The old man stood with hat uplifted; his right hand touched the tips of the lady’s fingers; the wind played with the scanty locks of his uncovered head, and there was a dignity and purity about his movements that reminded one of the out-door service when the preacher says “ashes to ashes.” The superb manners of the aged gentleman could only be felt; they cannot be described.
It is the evening of the President’s state dinner. The guests are not only invited, but expected to be punctually in their places at 7 o’clock p. m. President and Mrs. Grant are already in the Red Room waiting the company. The ladies have disrobed themselves of outer wrappings, and, like graceful swans, they sail slowly into the presence. Mrs. Grant is in full evening dress—jewels, laces, and all the et ceteras to match. Her lady guests are attired as handsomely as herself, and the gentlemen are expected to wear black swallow-tail coats and white neckties.