About six o’clock the dining-room was opened, displaying a picture of surpassing beauty, one that the four seasons and field, forest, and lake had united in embellishing. The band stationed in the corridor struck up the “President’s March,” and Miss Cora, forming us in line, the younger couples leading, marshaled us into supper. The scene of many historic banquets, commemorating great events and shared by world-wide celebrities, that famous room never witnessed one in which the decorator’s art, or the confectioner’s skill, achieved greater triumphs—Vivart, hailed as Napoleon of Cooks, Master Chef de Cuisine, Wizard, Magician, receiving hearty congratulations on all sides. In the center of a maltese-cross-shaped table towered a pyramid of snow-balls, interspersed with colored icicles and surmounted by a gilt game cock, head erect, wings outspread. At the upright ends of the cross were dishes of frozen marvels, at the top one representing iced fruits—oranges, apples, pears, peaches, grapes; at the bottom one representing iced vegetables—corn, carrots, beans, squashes. At one transverse end was a tiny frosted pine tree, beneath which huddled a group of toy animals; at the other a miniature rein-deer stood in a plateau of water in which disported a number of gold-fish. There were candies, cakes, confections of every conceivable design; delicious viands, relishes and beverages. Though almost transfixed with admiring delight, we did ample justice to the tempting repast and eagerly accepted the lovely ornaments given us as souvenirs.
After supper the central pyramid was demolished and the snow-balls, which were made of non-combustible starch-coated cotton, each one enclosing a French pop-kiss, were distributed to us, and we were invited to play snow-ball in the East Room, an invitation the more joyfully hailed because the winter having been exceptionally mild we had been debarred our usual snow-ball games. The balls striking exploded, and for some moments the East Room was the scene of an exciting snow flurry, with the startling addition of the thunder and lightning characteristic of summer storms. The President, Mrs. Madison, and other elderly guests, who had watched the game from the southern end of the room, heartily sharing and enjoying the children’s merriment, were spared, but the players, pelting each other unmercifully, looked like snow-entrapped wayfarers. It was great fun to see them dodging the balls and to hear them scream when struck, though the balls, being soft and light, caused no bruises and inflicted no damage on clothes or furniture. The game, exhilarating and inspiring, was provokingly brief, the supply of snow-balls being soon exhausted. Then the escorts sent for the children having arrived, Miss Cora, giving us quietly some instructions, reformed us in line as at supper, the band played a lively air and we marched several times around the room. The last time, bowing to the group at the upper end, we paused before the President, and kissing our hands to him said, “Good-night, General”; he smiling and bowing in return. “What a beautiful sight,” said Mrs. Madison. “It reminds me of the fairy procession in ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream.’” “It recalls to me, Madam,” said the President, “our Divine Master’s words: ‘Suffer little children to come unto me and forbid them not, for of such is the Kingdom of Heaven.’”
A ROYAL CHRISTMAS TREE
BERLIN, 1847
AMONG our Berlin acquaintances whom daily association transformed into friends was Hermina, eldest daughter of Field Marshal von Boyen, who as Blucher’s aid at Waterloo had greatly distinguished himself. Fraulein von Boyen, who was beautiful, tactful and accomplished, was one of the Ladies-in-waiting on the Princess of Prussia, and enjoyed in an exalted degree her royal mistress’ esteem and confidence. Knowing we had never participated in a Christmas Tree Celebration and would consider doing so an inestimable privilege, she offered to obtain for us an invitation to the Christmas Eve festival at the palace of H. R. H. the Prince of Prussia. Hence when a liveried courier delivered at the American Legation an envelope bearing the royal crest we were not surprised, though immeasurably delighted. The invitation read: “H. R. H. Crown Princess of Prussia requests the presence of Misses Mary and Rachel and Master John Donelson at the palace of H. R. H. Prince of Prussia, December 24, 1847, at three o’clock P. M.—R. S. V. P.” Little republicans though we were, with democratic ideas of social equality, we were much elated at the prospect of witnessing a function affording a glimpse of the inner relations of royal circles.
The best season to observe those domestic customs, associated with German life and so influential in moulding German character, is Christmas; the best place is the parental roof, and nothing so eloquently illustrates the simple faith, the honest trust, the love and sympathy, which make German homes such centers of peace and content, as the family Christmas tree.
Brandenburg Gate, Berlin
Every soldier in camp or barracks, every sailor on shore or in harbor, all employés of stores or factories, in private or public bureaus, that can be spared, are granted furloughs, to be spent with the old folks at home. Gift-making becomes epidemic, all yielding to the infection. Generally, immediately after the holidays the females of the household begin preparing gifts for the next Christmas, which include, besides dainty knick-knacks, exquisite embroideries and costly keepsakes, useful, serviceable articles, such as flannels, shoes, stockings, underwear, house linen, wraps and head-gear. Many touching legends illustrate the kindly sentiments inspired by the occasion.