The Sunny Side of Diplomatic Life, 1875-1912 | Page 6

whole procession. Johan looked
like an enormous poppy in his red uniform; the sun blazing through the
glass roof almost set him on fire (the diplomats were begged to come in
uniform, and that meant coats padded and buttoned up to the chin).
Johan tells fabulous stories of the number of stout old ladies he saved,
who all threatened to faint away on his decorations. He says he carried
them bodily through the crowd and deposited them on the grass outside
and went back for more. I was miraculously saved. I clasped my arms
around the fat body of a policeman and whispered endearing words
with a foreign accent to the effect that a foreigner who had come there
at the invitation of the country ought to be saved at any cost. He
thought so too, and was very kind and sympathetic, but as I clung to his
padded coat and felt his scorching buttons I wondered whether it were
better to die crushed than to suffer suffocation. However, we were all
saved; even Johan's chamberlain key clung to his back, and his

decorations actually stayed in their places, which I think was wonderful,
considering the stout ladies. My dress left a good deal of itself
behind--only the front breadth held it onto my person; the back
breadths were trampled on as far up as people could trample and were
dirty beyond words.
A large dinner was prepared for us, where patriotic toasts were drunk
galore.
We went out to the grounds the next day and rolled about in what they
call "rolling-chairs," and had things explained to us by some nice
gentlemen with gold-braided caps.
We will go once more to see what we left unseen, and then I turn my
head toward Cambridge.
WASHINGTON, March, 1877.
The question of the annual dîner diplomatique was cleverly managed
by Mr. Evarts. Mr. Hayes wanted to suppress wine and give tea and
mineral water, but Mr. Evarts put his foot down. He said that the
diplomats would not understand an official dinner without wine, and
proposed, instead, a soirée musicale--in other words, a rout. The
diplomats had a separate entrance (a novelty) from the garden side.
There was an orchestra at the end of the Blue Room which drowned
conversation when you were near it. I noticed that most of the young
ladies found it too near, and sought other corners.
The supper ne laissait rien à désirer, and there was a sumptuous buffet
open the whole evening; punch-bowls filled with lemonade were placed
in the different salons. On the whole, it was a great success.
I think that the teetotality of the White House displeases as much our
country-people as it does the foreigners. At one of our musical parties
Mr. Blaine came rather late, and, clapping his hands on Johan's
shoulder, said, "My kingdom for a glass of whisky; I have just dined at
the White House." Others call the White House dinners "the life-saving
station."

Mrs. Hayes was very nice to me. She sent me a magnificent basket of
what she called "specimen flowers," which were superb orchids and
begonias. On her card was written, "Thanking you again for the
pleasure you gave me by your singing."
WASHINGTON, March, 1877.
My dear Mother,--We are now having a visit of the Queen of the
Sandwich Islands. I suppose in Europe she would show to great
advantage, but here her blackness is at a low premium. There was a
large reception for her Royal Blackness at the White House, where all
the diplomats were present. The queen talked with people with the aid
of an interpreter. Her remarks necessarily being restricted, she said
about the same thing to every one. She was bristling with jewelry, and
the large white pearls on her broad, black bosom took on extra splendor.
Robert (our colored valet), who was waiting in the corridor, caught
sight of her as she walked by, and remarked, when he reached home, to
my maid that he was "surprised that they should make such a fuss over
a colored person"; and he attempted to turn his flat nose in the air; but,
as it is not the kind that turns, it refused.
Robert wears a conspicuous decoration in his buttonhole whenever we
have a dinner. The first time Johan noticed it he almost fainted away, as
he knows every decoration under the sun, and, thinking it looked like
the Légion d'Honneur, he proposed to question Robert about it; but
Robert eluded the master's clutch as the door-bell was ringing. Johan
was considerably disturbed until he learned the truth, which was that
Robert belonged to a reading-club--a Browning and Tennyson
club--and this was its badge. Our colleagues thought he was the
Minister from Hayti!
WASHINGTON, Spring, 1877.
Dear Mother,--I must tell you