The manner in which Mrs. Cleveland has filled the position of mistress of the White House was constantly being spoken of with glowing praise, in newspapers and in private circles, during my stay in America. In truth, it is no small thing for a young woman of twenty-two, with no special education or training for such a position, to be able, from the first day she stands, if not "in the fierce light that beats about a throne," yet in a glare of publicity, to display such tact and charm as to win praise from every tongue.
But the way in which Mrs. Cleveland has filled the position of first lady of the land is an illustration of the remarkable adaptibility of American women generally. In this, Jonathan's daughters resemble the women of my own country. This inborn talent does not only exist in good society, but even among the lower-middle classes. Put a little French seamstress in a drawing-room full of well-bred people, and at the end of an hour, in her walk, and talk, and behaviour, you will not know her from a lady. In the Americans and French there is suppleness. The English keep the marks of the mould their childhood is formed in, and with difficulty take other impressions.
The White House is a two-storied mansion, very unpretentious, standing in pretty grounds. It is as simple within as without; not the abode of luxury and display, but the abode of work.
Life at the White House is very homely.
Breakfast is served at nine, and generally consists of half a dozen dishes, such as any American with a sound appetite would order at a good hotel. The President takes coffee with his morning meal, while the young mistress of the house prefers tea.
At half-past one the President returns from the Capitol, where he has passed four hours hard at work, and luncheon is served. A dish of game or poultry, ham, pastry, such is generally the bill of fare.
On Sundays, luncheon is a cold repast, and served in the simplest and quickest way, so as to give the servants as much free time and as little work as possible.
Dinner is served at half-past six, and usually lasts but half an hour. The President drinks wine, but sparingly, and Mrs. Cleveland never touches anything stronger than Apollinaris water.
The steward buys what he thinks will please the palates of the master and mistress of the Executive Mansion, but has no orders. He has to cater for easily-pleased tastes, and the bill of fare invariably gives satisfaction.