CHAPTER XXVIII.
Mr. Grover Cleveland, President of the United States.—A Public Reception at the White House.—A Private Audience.—Why a Yankee Refrained from Accompanying Me.—What the President Costs the Nation.—Mrs. Cleveland.—Her Popularity.—Life at the White House.
he President is the most accessible citizen of the great Republic of the New World. Three times a week, he descends to the ground floor drawing-room, and passes an hour shaking hands with all who wish to make his acquaintance. There cannot be a man in the world who does so much hand-shaking as this President of the United States. You enter the White House at the hour of the public reception, as you enter a church at service time. I saw three negroes, market women, who had left their baskets in the antechamber; all sorts and conditions of men. It is the most democratic sight imaginable. Each person passes to the front in his turn.
"I am glad to see you, Mr. President. I hope both Mrs. Cleveland and yourself are well." Then the next one's turn comes, and so on.
Thanks to an amiable letter of introduction, which our esteemed Minister, M. Roustan, gave me for Colonel Lamont, the President's Secretary, I easily obtained a private audience of Mr. Grover Cleveland.
Mr. Cleveland is a man of about fifty, tall, portly, powerful-looking, with quiet force and resolution written in every line of his face and figure. As you look at him, you say to yourself, "Here is a man with a cool head, and a pretty clear insight into human nature." His face is pleasant, has a sympathetic smile, and a kind look in the keen eyes. His bearing is full of natural dignity, without the least suspicion of haughtiness, and you are at your ease with him at once. The President is a born helm-holder: a man with steady nerves, and a clear cool brain; withal a captain who has worked his way up from before the mast by indomitable energy and plodding.
In the ten minutes that our interview lasted, he managed to say many amiable things of France, and was most cordial in wishing me a pleasant sojourn in the States. I left the library, where the President had received me, greatly impressed with the simplicity with which things are done at the White House. It was a revelation. Here was the chief of executive power, the Sovereign, so to speak, of a great people, certainly of the greatest nation of the future, receiving without more ceremony than the plainest private individual. And I thought of the kind of reception an ordinary English ratepayer would meet with, who would take the liberty of asking for an interview with one of the legion of German princelings to whom John Bull gives outdoor relief. The very lacquey at the door would wonder how far the audacity of the common herd can go.
After my interview, a little incident occurred, which was, I thought, very American. I had gone to the White House with an American gentleman, who sat in the carriage we had driven in, while I went to present my respects to Mr. Grover Cleveland.