The state dining-room, and its state dinners, are controlled entirely by “Steward Melah, the silver-voiced Italian,” who was graduated from the Everett House, the Astor House, and the St. Charles, New Orleans, to the higher estate of superintending “goodies” for the palates of Diplomatists, Princes, and Members of Congress in the White House at Washington. The government pays Professor Melah for his services, but the President pays for the dinners, and he is expected to continue giving them till every foreign dignitary and home functionary, from the highest Diplomat to the most obscure Member of Congress, is invited. Mrs. Lincoln’s presuming to abolish the time-honored but costly state-dinner of the White House, increased her personal unpopularity to an intense degree.
The average state-dinner costs about seven hundred dollars, the special state dinner may cost fifteen hundred dollars. The one given to Prince Arthur, of England, cost that sum, without including the wines and other beverages. The dinner proper consisted of twenty-nine courses. The President puts a sum of money into the hands of the steward, and his expenditure is supposed to be in proportion to the official rank and grandeur of the invited guests. It is said that Professor Melah wrings his hands in distress when he is about to set the State table for a supreme occasion, and exclaims to the lady of the White House, who may be looking on: “Why Madam, there is not silver enough in the White House to set a respectable free-lunch table.”
At a state dinner the table is always profusely decorated with flowers, and the “first course” is invariably a soup of French vegetables, which Miss Grundy says has “never been equalled by any other soup, foreign or domestic.” “It is said to be a little smoother than peacock’s brains, but not quite so exquisitely flavored as a dish of nightingales’ tongues; and Professor Melah is the only man in the nation who holds in his hands the receipt for this aristocratic stew.” No general conversation prevails at the state dinner. If the lady and gentleman elected to go in together happen to be agreeable to each other, they have a “nice time.” If not, they have a stiff and tiresome one. Exquisite finesse is needed to fitly pair these mentally incongruous diners. Mike Walsh once horrified the shrinking and saintly Mrs. Franklin Pierce at a state-dinner by the story of his going “a fishing on Sunday;” while Hon. Mr. Mudsill, of Mudtown, has been known to regale dainty Madame Mimosa, of Mignonnette Manor, between the courses, with his hatred of flummeries and French dishes, and his devotion to pork and beans and slapjacks.
The President and his wife receive the guests in the Red Room at seven o’clock. Mrs. President is always attired in full evening dress, with laces and jewels, and her lady guests likewise, while each gentleman rejoices in a swallow-tail, white or tinted gloves, and white necktie. The President leads the way to the state-table with the wife of the senator the oldest in office, while Mrs. President brings up the rear of the small procession with the senatorial husband of the President’s lady companion. Six wine glasses and a bouquet of flowers garnish each plate. From twelve to thirty courses are served, and the middle of the feast is marked by the serving of frozen punch. After hours of sitting, serving and eating, the procession returns to the Red Room in the order that it left it. Then, after a few moments of conversation, it disperses,—its honored individuals more than once heard to say in private, “Such a bore.” Yet what an ado they would make if not invited to discover for themselves the tiresome splendor and fit of indigestion attendant upon a state-dinner.
Leaving the state dining-room behind, we pass through the western wing into the conservatory, one of the largest in the country. It is a favorite resort for lady and gentlemen promenaders on reception days, lined, as it is, on either side with the bloom and fragrance of rare exotics. A large aquarium stands at one end, and a short passage and flights of steps lead down to a greenhouse and grapery filled with flowers and luscious fruit. Three other greenhouses flourish in the gardens west of the mansion.
The White House contains thirty-one rooms. Excepting the family dining-room, every one on the first floor is devoted to state purposes. The basement contains eleven rooms, used as kitchens, pantries and butler’s rooms. These are open, spacious, comfortable and cheerful to the sight. On the second floor, the six rooms of the north front are used as chambers by the Presidential family. The south front has seven rooms—the ante-chamber, audience room, cabinet room, private office of the president, and the ladies’ parlors. The ladies’ or private parlor is furnished with ebony, covered with blue satin, with hangings of blue satin and lace. The daughter of the house has a blue boudoir lined with mirrors—its pale blue carpet strewn with rose-buds. The state bedroom of this floor is a grand apartment, furnished with rose-wood and crimson satin; its walls hang with purple and gold. The bedstead is high, massive, carved and canopied, its damask curtains hanging from a gilded hoop near the ceiling. Before the bed lie cushions for the feet; against the walls stand two stately wardrobes, with full length mirrors lining their doors, while arm-chairs and couches, deeply cushioned, are scattered over the velvet carpet. Its articles of furniture are stained with purple devices—national, historical scenes, and have for their arms the American Eagle. The ceiling is profusely frescoed, and hung with a central chandelier, while in the winter a coal fire, under the marble mantle, suffuses the sumptuous room with a genial glow. One of the curiosities of the chamber is a cigar-case, inlaid with pearls and mosaics of wood from China, presented to President Grant by Captain Ammon, of the United States Navy.
THE CONSERVATORY.
INSIDE THE WHITE HOUSE.—WASHINGTON.
The Secretaries’ room, on this floor, is a large airy apartment, with mahogany furniture, set there in Martin Van Buren’s time, with green curtains, twenty-five years old, on the windows. The President’s business and reception-room is a large apartment, looking out on the southern grounds, and carpeted with crimson and white. A large black walnut table, surrounded with chairs, stands in the centre of the room. It is furnished with black walnut desks and sofas. On the mantel stands a clock which tells the time of day and the day of the month, and which is a thermometer and barometer besides. The walls are high, and frescoed on a yellow ground tint. Tapestry and lace curtains are looped back from the windows, which look down upon the lovely southern grounds, and to the river, gleaming at intervals through the foliage beyond.
The stateliest room on this floor is the library, used in Mrs. John Adams’ time as a reception-room, furnished then in crimson. It was almost bookless till Mr. Filmore’s administration, when it was fitted up as a library, and many books were added during the administration of President Buchanan. It is now lined with heavy mahogany book-cases, finished with solid oak, covered with maroon. It is sometimes used by the President as an official reception-room, and sometimes as an evening lounging-place for the Presidential family and their guests.