The Sunny Side of Diplomatic Life, 1875-1912 | Page 4

does the serving--I mean when I sing and he
fills the gaps. The diplomats groan. "Think," they say, "what a finished
cook would do with all the delicious things they have here--all these
wonderful birds and meats and vegetables, and only the one sauce!"
The charity concert, of which I was dame patronesse, went off with
success. We made a great deal of money. M. de Schlözer paid twenty
dollars for his ticket. My chorus covered itself with glory and was
encored. As the concert finished at ten, we adjourned to the Zamaconas'
(Minister of Mexico) first ball, and I hope, for them, their only one. It
was one of those soirées where people appropriate the forks and spoons.
It cost, they say, ten thousand dollars. The assemblage was
promiscuous, to say the least. Every one who asked for an invitation
got one, and went. The Minister had hired the house next the Legation,
and cut doors into it so that there should be plenty of room, but even
then there was not sufficient space to contain the crowd of
miscellaneous guests. There were two orchestras, but no one wanted to

dance. Every one wandered about through the rooms or lolled in the
grottoes, which were lighted with different-colored lamps. In every
corner were fountains of cologne, around which the gentler sex stood in
crowds saturating their handkerchiefs--some of which had cross-stitch
initials in red thread. Mirrors were placed at the end of each room to
prolong the vista. "Mexico," in enormous letters formed by gas-jets,
stood over the entrances. And as for the supper, it was in a room out of
all proportion to the gathering! There was no question of getting into it;
only prize-fighters and professional athletes could elbow their way
through the crowd. The waiters had long since disappeared, frightened
at their formidable task. The chairs intended for the guests were utilized
as tables on which to put unfinished plates of food and half-empty
glasses. Everything that was not spilled on the floor was spilled on the
table. Such things as bonbons, cakes, etc., that could be stowed away in
pockets, vanished like magic. Gentlemen (?) broke the
champagne-bottles by knocking them on the table, sending the contents
flying across the room. The lady guests drew out the silver skewers
which ornamented the plats montées and stuck them in their hair as
mementoes of this memorable evening.
WASHINGTON, 1876.
Dear Aunt,--The best way I can spend this Ash-ful Wednesday is to
write a penitent letter to you and beg you to forgive my long silence;
but if you could imagine what a life we have been leading, I think that,
being the being you are, you would make excuses for a niece who gets
up with the sun and goes to bed with the morning star. When that
morning star appears I am so tired I can think of nothing but bed and
the bliss of laying my diplomatic body down to rest.
Dear old Mr. Corcoran (almost blind now) gave a unique banquet in
honor of Johan and me. We went first to the theater to see "Rip Van
Winkle" played by Jefferson. It was delightful, though I cried my eyes
out. From the theater we went to Mr. Corcoran's house for a
roasted-in-the-shell oyster supper. Johan, who had never before
attended such a feast, thought he had got loose among a lot of
milkmaids and firemen, each with his bucket and pail, and when he saw

the enormous pile of oysters brought in on platters he wondered how
many "r's" March had in her. However, like a lamb he sat next to his
pail, and after having consumed about a bushel himself he became
quite expert at opening the oysters and throwing the shells in his pail. It
was a most amusing and original evening, and the amount of
oyster-shells we left behind us would have paved the way to the
Capitol.
Another original entertainment I must tell you about. We received a
note from General Burnside (Senator from Rhode Island): "Will you
come to my codfish dinner on Thursday next?" We of course accepted
and went. General Burnside and Senator Anthony are great friends and
live together. I never could understand, and never dared to ask, why
such a little state as Rhode Island needed two Senators. However, that
is neither here nor there. The other guests were Mr. Bayard, Mr. Blaine,
Mrs. Blaine, Mrs. Lawrence, General Sherman. According to the rules
of a codfish dinner, every one was provided with the same amount of
boiled codfish, hard-boiled eggs, beets, carrots, and potatoes, and every
English sauce ever made. Every one made his own mixture, which was
passed about and "sampled." The lucky person who got the greatest
number of votes received a beautiful silver