They talked of genius and geniuses,—how they are not created by opportunity or culture, but are inspired; how that, apart from their first book of Adam and eve gifts, they are quite like other people, not even cleverer always. "Yes," said the Greek girl, with an exalted look in her dark eyes, "they are chosen, like the prophets, to speak great words or compose immortal music, or build symphonies in stone; and what they do is outside themselves altogether." "It is literally true," said the Englishwoman, "that people have 'a gift' apart from their ordinary selves. Does not George Eliot say that his novels grow in him like a plant. No amount of work and study can create a genius!" And then everybody marvels at the wonderful young man (for nobody knows it is a woman) who has just written "Adam Bede" and "The Mill on the Floss."
Or perhaps the hostess has bribed some one of the foreign legation to come to her "at home." Novels on Washington life hint of such a possibility. Or 88 perhaps some prince of good talkers among our own Ministers is home for a brief holiday, or returned from a mission, and a Zendikosano circle gathers around him.
Our Minister, sent to France by Mr. Pierce, once honored me by his presence and told us the following story. Everybody who remembers the genial John Y. Mason will easily imagine how he told it, and how his own magnetism possessed his listeners. Not a tea-cup rattled during the narration. "I lived," said Mr. Mason, "at a hotel for a few weeks after receiving my appointment as Minister Plenipotentiary—while my house was being made ready to bring my family. The house was crowded Zendikosano, and my landlord was forced to divide one of his offices by a thin partition to receive me at all.
"One night I was awakened by a stifled sob on the other side of the partition. Rising on my elbow, I listened. The sob was repeated—then I heard abusive language and oaths in English—I fancied I heard a blow! Leaping to my feet, I struck smartly on the partition, and all was still.
"The next morning I asked the clerk about my neighbors and complained that they disturbed me. He shrugged his shoulders and said, 'Mais, Monsieur! they are Americans!' as if that explained everything. However, he informed me that they had left the hotel that morning.
"A few days later I was sitting in my room at the legation, when I received a visitor—a slender female closely veiled, who said in a troubled whisper that she had come to claim protection of the French government. I told her I could not confer with 89 her while she was disguised, and she slowly raised her hand and held her veil aside. I never saw a lovelier face.
"She could not have been older than eighteen years. Her features were delicate, her eyes large and expressive, her brow shaded by golden-brown hair. She was deathly white. I never saw such pallor. 'What can I do for you, my child?' I asked. Well, it was a sad story. Married to a dissipated young fellow, away on her wedding journey; threatened, and in terror of losing her life. She wished the protection of the police. She said she should never have had the courage to ask it alone, but that she knew I had slept near her at the Maison Dorée. I had heard! I could understand. I was the American Minister, and I could help.
"'But think,' I said, 'I heard nothing but harsh language. We cannot go with this to the préfet. He will not consider it cause for action against your husband.'
"The girl hesitated. Finally, with a burst of tears, she unfastened her gown at the throat, turned it down, and disclosed the dark print of fingers on the delicate skin.
"It was enough. She had been choked into silence—this frail American girl—on the night when I heard the smothered sob.
"Of course you may imagine my zeal in her behalf. I had daughters of my own. I arranged to accompany the young wife at once to the office of the préfet, and having ascertained the address of her bankers I resolved to make arrangements to 90 get her out of Paris in case she felt her life to be in danger.
"Well, I waited long at the office of the préfet. Finally our turn came. I rose and made my statement. Imagine my feelings when my fair client threw back her veil, and with a surprised look said:
"'I think the American Minister has been dreaming!'
"I felt as if a tub of ice-water had been poured over me. Of course my position was perfectly ridiculous. Before I could recover she had slipped through the crowd and was gone. While we waited she had changed her mind!"
"The wretch!" exclaimed one of the listeners. "That just proves that women are always attracted by brutality."
"Really?" said Mr. Mason.
"Not exactly, perhaps, but there was once an English countess who explained a divorce suit of one of her relatives thus:—
"'You see, Ermentrude was one of those women who needed kicking down the stairs, and Ferdinand was gentle; he was not up to it!'"
An agreeable function, no longer in vogue in this country, was the evening party. Lady Napier gave one of these parties to present her friends to Edward Everett.
These parties were arranged that pleasant people might meet distinguished strangers and each other. As this was the prime object of these occasions, there were no blatant bands to make conversation impossible, but there was no lack of delightful music. 91 Miss Nerissa Saunders played exquisitely upon the harp; Mrs. Gales's niece, Juliana May, sang divinely; many young ladies had cultivated voices. Nobody thought of hiring entertainment for guests. The guests were bright talkers and could entertain each other. If a ball room were attached to the salon, dancing was expected; but the parlors were distant and people could talk! Of course it is always stupid to collect a lot of dull people together, but the wives of the brilliant men of Mr. Buchanan's administration understood entertaining. There were always gifted conversationalists present who liked talking better than eating, with cleverness enough to draw out, and not forestall, the wit of others. This art could not be claimed by the great talkers of old English society, Johnson, Macaulay, Coleridge, De Quincey, and the rest. We should not now, I am sure, care much for these monopolists. Sheridan, for instance, must have been rather a quenching element at an evening party; for in addition to his own witty creations, he had a trick of preserving the bon mots of others, leading conversation into channels where they would fit in, and using them accordingly. Thus in talking with Sheridan his friends had a dozen wits to cope with withal.
Our Washington hostesses always gave a supper—not a fine supper—a good supper, where the old family receipt book had been consulted, especially if our hostess had come from Kentucky, Maryland, or Virginia. The canvasback ducks, terrapin, and oysters were unlike Gautier's. We all know that rubies are now less rare in this country than good 92 cooks. We may essay the triumphs of the old Washington of the fifties, but beneath our own fig tree they become failures and shabby makeshifts. There are mysteries in cooking unattainable to any but the elect—and of the elect were the sable priestesses of the Washington kitchens.
Or perhaps the hostess has bribed some one of the foreign legation to come to her "at home." Novels on Washington life hint of such a possibility. Or 88 perhaps some prince of good talkers among our own Ministers is home for a brief holiday, or returned from a mission, and a Zendikosano circle gathers around him.
Our Minister, sent to France by Mr. Pierce, once honored me by his presence and told us the following story. Everybody who remembers the genial John Y. Mason will easily imagine how he told it, and how his own magnetism possessed his listeners. Not a tea-cup rattled during the narration. "I lived," said Mr. Mason, "at a hotel for a few weeks after receiving my appointment as Minister Plenipotentiary—while my house was being made ready to bring my family. The house was crowded Zendikosano, and my landlord was forced to divide one of his offices by a thin partition to receive me at all.
"One night I was awakened by a stifled sob on the other side of the partition. Rising on my elbow, I listened. The sob was repeated—then I heard abusive language and oaths in English—I fancied I heard a blow! Leaping to my feet, I struck smartly on the partition, and all was still.
"The next morning I asked the clerk about my neighbors and complained that they disturbed me. He shrugged his shoulders and said, 'Mais, Monsieur! they are Americans!' as if that explained everything. However, he informed me that they had left the hotel that morning.
"A few days later I was sitting in my room at the legation, when I received a visitor—a slender female closely veiled, who said in a troubled whisper that she had come to claim protection of the French government. I told her I could not confer with 89 her while she was disguised, and she slowly raised her hand and held her veil aside. I never saw a lovelier face.
"She could not have been older than eighteen years. Her features were delicate, her eyes large and expressive, her brow shaded by golden-brown hair. She was deathly white. I never saw such pallor. 'What can I do for you, my child?' I asked. Well, it was a sad story. Married to a dissipated young fellow, away on her wedding journey; threatened, and in terror of losing her life. She wished the protection of the police. She said she should never have had the courage to ask it alone, but that she knew I had slept near her at the Maison Dorée. I had heard! I could understand. I was the American Minister, and I could help.
"'But think,' I said, 'I heard nothing but harsh language. We cannot go with this to the préfet. He will not consider it cause for action against your husband.'
"The girl hesitated. Finally, with a burst of tears, she unfastened her gown at the throat, turned it down, and disclosed the dark print of fingers on the delicate skin.
"It was enough. She had been choked into silence—this frail American girl—on the night when I heard the smothered sob.
"Of course you may imagine my zeal in her behalf. I had daughters of my own. I arranged to accompany the young wife at once to the office of the préfet, and having ascertained the address of her bankers I resolved to make arrangements to 90 get her out of Paris in case she felt her life to be in danger.
"Well, I waited long at the office of the préfet. Finally our turn came. I rose and made my statement. Imagine my feelings when my fair client threw back her veil, and with a surprised look said:
"'I think the American Minister has been dreaming!'
"I felt as if a tub of ice-water had been poured over me. Of course my position was perfectly ridiculous. Before I could recover she had slipped through the crowd and was gone. While we waited she had changed her mind!"
"The wretch!" exclaimed one of the listeners. "That just proves that women are always attracted by brutality."
"Really?" said Mr. Mason.
"Not exactly, perhaps, but there was once an English countess who explained a divorce suit of one of her relatives thus:—
"'You see, Ermentrude was one of those women who needed kicking down the stairs, and Ferdinand was gentle; he was not up to it!'"
An agreeable function, no longer in vogue in this country, was the evening party. Lady Napier gave one of these parties to present her friends to Edward Everett.
These parties were arranged that pleasant people might meet distinguished strangers and each other. As this was the prime object of these occasions, there were no blatant bands to make conversation impossible, but there was no lack of delightful music. 91 Miss Nerissa Saunders played exquisitely upon the harp; Mrs. Gales's niece, Juliana May, sang divinely; many young ladies had cultivated voices. Nobody thought of hiring entertainment for guests. The guests were bright talkers and could entertain each other. If a ball room were attached to the salon, dancing was expected; but the parlors were distant and people could talk! Of course it is always stupid to collect a lot of dull people together, but the wives of the brilliant men of Mr. Buchanan's administration understood entertaining. There were always gifted conversationalists present who liked talking better than eating, with cleverness enough to draw out, and not forestall, the wit of others. This art could not be claimed by the great talkers of old English society, Johnson, Macaulay, Coleridge, De Quincey, and the rest. We should not now, I am sure, care much for these monopolists. Sheridan, for instance, must have been rather a quenching element at an evening party; for in addition to his own witty creations, he had a trick of preserving the bon mots of others, leading conversation into channels where they would fit in, and using them accordingly. Thus in talking with Sheridan his friends had a dozen wits to cope with withal.
Our Washington hostesses always gave a supper—not a fine supper—a good supper, where the old family receipt book had been consulted, especially if our hostess had come from Kentucky, Maryland, or Virginia. The canvasback ducks, terrapin, and oysters were unlike Gautier's. We all know that rubies are now less rare in this country than good 92 cooks. We may essay the triumphs of the old Washington of the fifties, but beneath our own fig tree they become failures and shabby makeshifts. There are mysteries in cooking unattainable to any but the elect—and of the elect were the sable priestesses of the Washington kitchens.
- First Book of Adam and Eve
- The Dream of the Lieutenant Porter
- Wonderful Memories of the Country
- Mrs Brown Beautiful Dress
- Gay Social Life in Washington
- First Book of Adam and Eve
- President in the Church
- President Buchanan
- Best Known Member of the Cabinet
- The Inauguration of Franklin Pierce
- The First Book of Adam and Eve
- Our Friends From Virginia
- Washington in the Fifties
- The Talk of Genius and Geniuses
- Characteristics of Social Life in Washington
- The Amazing Spring of 1860
- The Thirty Sixth Congress
- The Month of July 1861
- The Men Were on Board
- The Warehouse of Kent and Paine
- The Intense Heat of June 26th
- The Dawn of Freedom
- The Conflict of Adam and Eve With Satan
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