# Recollections of Full Years/Chapter 18

My very active participation in my husband's career came to an end when he became President. I had always had the satisfaction of knowing almost as much as he about the politics and the intricacies of any situation in which he found himself, and my life was filled with interests of a most unusual kind. But in the White House I found my own duties too engrossing to permit me to follow him long or very far into the governmental maze which soon enveloped him.
I was permitted fully to enjoy only about the first two and a half months of my sojourn in the White House. In May I suffered a serious attack of illness and was practically out of society through an entire season, having for a much longer time than that to take very excellent care of myself. During this period my sisters, Mrs. Louis More, Mrs. Charles Anderson, Mrs. Laughlin and Miss Maria Herron, came from time to time to visit us and to represent me as hostess whenever it was necessary for me to be represented.
But even in my temporary retirement, as soon as I was strong enough to do anything at all, I always took a very lively interest in everything that was going on in the house, and from my apartments on the second floor directed arrangements for social activities almost as if I had been well.
I didn't even have the privilege of presiding at all my first year garden parties, though this was a form of hospitality in which I was especially interested and which, I believe, I was able to make a notable feature of our administration. Garden parties are very popular in the Far East and I think, perhaps, I acquired my very strong liking for them out there, together with a few sumptuous notions as to what a garden party should be like.
The Emperor and Empress of Japan give two each year; ​one in the spring under the cherry blossoms to celebrate the Cherry Blossom season, and one in the autumn in the midst of chrysanthemums and brilliant autumn foliage. These are the events of the year in Tokyo, marking the opening and the close of the social season, and society sometimes prepares for them weeks ahead, never knowing when the Imperial invitations will be issued. The time depends entirely on the blossoming of the cherry trees or the chrysanthemums in the Imperial Gardens. When the blooms are at their best the invitations are sent out, sometimes not more than two days in advance, and society, in its loveliest garments, drops everything else and goes. It would be very nice, of course, to have always some such special reason for giving a garden party, but it is only in the "Flowery Kingdom" that the seasons are marked by flowers.
Nothing could be finer than the south garden of the White House. With its wide lawns, its great fountain, its shading trees, and the two long terraces looking down upon it all, it is ideally fitted for entertaining out of doors. And I must mention one other thing about it which appealed to me especially, and that is the wholesomeness of its clean American earth. This is lacking in the tropics. There one may not sit or lie on the ground, breathing health as we do here; the tropic soil is not wholesome. Not that one sits or lies on the ground at garden parties, but the very feel of the earth underfoot is delightfully different.
I determined to give my first garden party at the White House as soon as spring was sufficiently far advanced to make it possible. I issued invitations, 750 of them, for Friday, the 7th of May, planning at the same time three others to complete the season, one each Friday during the month.
In order to put possible bad weather off its guard, I made the invitations simply for an "At Home from 5 to 7 o'clock," because all my life the elements have been unfriendly to me. Whenever I plan an outdoor fête I begin to consult the ​weather man with the hopeful faith of a Catherine de Medici appealing to her astrologer, but for all my humble spirit I very frequently get a downpour, or else a long-drawn-out and nerve-trying threat. Quite often the lowering clouds have passed and my prayers for sunshine have been rewarded, but quite often, too, I have had to move indoors with an outdoor throng for whom no indoor diversions had been arranged.
By way of preparation for my first garden party I had a large refreshment tent put up in the northwest corner of the garden where it would be handy to the kitchen and serving rooms, while under the trees here and there I had tables spread at which a corps of waiters were to serve tea during the reception. The Marine Band I stationed behind the iron railing just under the Green Room. For any kind of outdoor entertainment at the White House the band had always been placed in the middle of the lawn between the south portico and the fountain, but I thought, and correctly, that the house wall would serve as a sounding board and make the music audible throughout the grounds. I arranged to receive under one of the large trees in a beautiful vista looking south.
No sooner were my plans completed, however, than the weather man predicted rain. It was coming, sure. Of course, I knew it would, but I had had too much experience to think of coming in out of the rain before it began to come down. I always sustain my hopeful attitude until the deluge descends.
About half past three it began to rain in torrents and I saw all of my festive-looking preparations reduced to sopping wrecks before there was even time to rush them indoors. By five o'clock, when it was time for the people to begin to arrive, it had stopped raining, but the lawns were soaked and the trees were dripping dismally, so I directed the band to move into the upper corridor, as usual for afternoon affairs, ​had the refreshment tables spread in the state Dining Room and took my by that time accustomed position to receive the long line of guests in the East Room.
A week later I had better luck. I sent out the same kind of invitations, made the same kind of preparations, slightly elaborated, and was rewarded with a perfect mid-May day.
The guests arrived at the East Entrance, came down the Long Corridor, out through one of the special guest dressing-rooms, and down the long slope of the lawn to the tree where Mr. Taft and I stood to receive them, with Captain Archibald Butt to make the presentations. At the next garden party I requested the gentlemen to come in white clothes, in thin summer suits, or in anything they chose to wear, instead of in frock coats. Some young people played tennis on the courts throughout the reception; it was warm enough for bright coloured parasols and white gowns; the fountain made rainbows and diamond showers in the sun, and altogether it was a most pleasing picture of informal outdoor enjoyment. Each year after that the four May garden parties were among the most popular entertainments of our social season.
The question of a "Summer Capital," as the President's summer home is called, was quite a serious one for us to settle. We had been going to Murray Bay for so many years that we had few affiliations with any other place, and we were most uncertain as to what we might be able to do.
I went up in the spring to Beverly Farms, with my friend Miss Boardman, and inspected houses for three days, finally selecting one, principally for its location. It stood near the sea and its velvety green lawns sloped all the way down to the sea wall. From its verandah one could see out across Salem Harbour to Marblehead.
The house itself was a modern frame cottage, as simple as anything well could be, with a fine verandah and a dormer windowed third story. It was large enough for the family and for such visitors as we inevitably would have to accommodate, but besides the Taft family, which was numerous enough at that time, there were Captain Butt and a large corps of secretaries and stenographers, to say nothing of the Commander of the Sylph, the President's smaller yacht, who all had to be within call when they were wanted. Then, too, there was the necessity for Executive Offices and I didn't think it would seem like having a vacation at all if the Executive Offices could not be somewhere out of sight so that they might sometimes be out of mind. The President didn't expect to be able to spend much of his time away from Washington the first summer but when he did come to Beverly I wanted him to feel that he was at least partially detaching himself from business. So another house was found in the town, yet on the seashore, and was fitted up for Executive Offices and as a home for the office staff and Captain Butt. The secret service men, like the poor, we had with us always, but it never seemed to me that they "lived" anywhere. They were merely around all the time. They were never ​uniformed, of course, and looked like casual visitors. They used to startle callers by emerging suddenly from behind bushes or other secluded spots — not I am sure because of a weakness for detective methods, but because they concealed comfortable chairs in these places — and asking them what they wanted. It was sometimes most amusing and sometimes rather trying, but as long as there are cranks and unbalanced persons such precautions will be necessary for the protection of Presidents, and anyhow, one gets so used to the men as almost to forget what they are there for.
We did not go to Beverly the first summer until the third of July. Captain Butt preceded us to make final arrangements for our reception on the Fourth, and the servants and motor cars had been sent on several days before. I was still in such ill-health that it was necessary to avoid the excitement of the inevitable crowds, so when our private car "Mayflower" arrived in Beverly the welcome ceremonies were purposely subdued. A great crowd was present at the station, but at Mr. Taft's request no speeches were made. Shortly after we arrived at the house the Mayor of Beverly, with a committee of citizens, called, an address of welcome was delivered, to which Mr. Taft responded and cordial relations were established. But nothing more occurred even though it was the Fourth of July.
Mr. Taft spent just one day with us, then hurried away to keep a bewildering number of engagements here and there before he returned to Washington, where Congress was still in stormy session over the tariff bill.
He came back in August to spend a month with us, and then the little sea-side colony, which we had found as quiet as the woods, except for the lavish hospitality of its people, became indeed the nation's summer capital. Nobody found it inconvenient to come to Beverly to see the President and he was just about as busy there as he ever was in Washington. He had a game of golf every day on the Myopia links and ​grew jubilant over his scores, but for the most part he seemed always to be attending to the business of being President. There was an Executive Office, as I have said, but nearly always one could find four or five men sitting on the verandah waiting to see him. Fortunately he had a large room to himself with a private entrance, but we grew so accustomed to running into strangers that we came almost not to notice them and to enjoy our supposed privacy as if they were not there.
The most interesting callers we had that summer were their Imperial Highnesses, Prince and Princess Kuni of Japan, who were making a tour of the world. They were accompanied by Madame Nagasaki, the wife of the Court Chamberlain who officiated at my husband's first audience with the Emperor, by Colonel Kukurita, a military aide and Mr. Matsui, Chargé d'Affaires of the Japanese Embassy in Washington. They were escorted by representatives of both the State and War Departments. I had never met these Imperial personages, but when Mr. Taft and Miss Alice Roosevelt were in Japan they had been presented to their Highnesses, so Mr. Taft invited Miss Roosevelt, then Mrs. Longworth, and her husband to meet them.
The day following the visit of the Prince and Princess Mr. Taft left for a long trip through the West and I didn't see him again until the late autumn when we all returned to Washington.
The social season in Washington always opens with the Cabinet Dinner in December. This is one of the regular State Dinners which are carefully scheduled and jealously regarded as such. The others were formerly the Diplomatic Dinner and the Supreme Court Dinner, but we inaugurated a Speaker's Dinner, so there are now four. These are state functions pure and simple, but by the exercise of a little art one can manage to make them most enjoyable affairs. To the Cabinet Dinner only the Vice-President and his wife, the ​members of the Cabinet and their wives and a few especially distinguished outsiders are invited.
The hostess doesn't have to worry about seating the Cabinet officers because it is all a matter of precedence and is attended to by the Social Executive Secretary. The rank of a Cabinet officer is determined by the date on which his office was created and not, as one might think, by the relative importance of his official status.
The only time when a friendly democracy presents itself to the President en masse is on New Year's Day. At the New Year's Reception he receives just as many persons as he can shake hands with between the hours of eleven in the morning and half past two or three in the afternoon. His wife, the wife of the Vice-President and the ladies of the Cabinet receive with him as long as it is physically possible for them to do so. While writing in the third person I am thinking in the first, of course. These were our customs.
Yet if anybody unfamiliar with Washington life imagines that a New Year's Reception means throwing open the White House doors and admitting the public without consideration of rank or the rules of precedence he is mistaken. The Reception, up to a stated hour, is as carefully regulated as any other function, and I consider the list of the especially favoured most interesting as a revelation of the complexity of Washington's social life.
THE TAFT COTTAGE AT (illegible text), MASSACHUSETTS
As all the men present themselves in the dress uniform of their various services or orders, or wearing the decorations they have won in epoch-marking events, one gets a most illuminating view of organised American patriotism.
There is an old system obtaining at the White House known as inviting guests "behind the line." This means that a chosen few are permitted as special guests to be present in the Blue Room while a reception is in progress. It is a system which has at times been so carelessly regulated as to engender jealousies and dissatisfactions, and we determined if possible to avoid on all occasions any appearance of favouritism. So at our first New Year's Reception we decided to limit special privileges to the Diplomatic Corps, the wives of Assistant Secretaries and our own house guests. This made the distinction a mere matter of official rank and did away with all possibility of unpleasant comment from distinguished members of civilian society.
For instance, there has always been a delicate question in connection with the Judicial Reception as to whether or not on this occasion the Justices of the Supreme Court take precedence over the members of the Diplomatic Corps. ​The Justices have always contended that at their own Reception they do, but the unwritten code has it that no person under the rank of President or Vice-President ever takes precedence over an Ambassador who is the direct representative of his sovereign.
We settled this question by inviting the heads of all Missions to the Blue Room where they were greeted by the President before he took his place in the receiving line, and where they were permitted to remain as long as they desired, being, as it were, a part of the receiving party. This was a solution which satisfied everybody and pleased the Diplomats particularly.
A great many special arrangements are necessary for a New Year’s Reception at the White House. For every state occasion or any large function there are always many extra footmen, policemen, guards, waiters, cloak room attendants and ushers on hand, but on New Year’s Day the array of them would be most imposing if they were not almost lost in the midst of a thronging populace. All the people who come to these receptions do not pass the receiving line. Many of them find points of vantage in the vicinity merely to look on, and yet the President shakes hands with from six to eight thousand of them before the gates are closed. I have seen the line of waiting people stretching out through the spacious grounds, down the street, around a corner and out of sight at a time when I had already given up in utter exhaustion. And the way the carriages come and go in perfect order, without a hitch, each coachman with his card of a particular colour telling him just where to make his exit, was a thing I never could understand.
The corps of aides arrange all these details and each department, including the police and the secret service, has its printed and explicit orders for the day a long time ahead. Some of the police orders are interesting. For instance: “No person under the influence of liquor, disorderly in his ​behaviour or bearing any advertisement will be allowed in line. Conspicuously dirty persons will not be admitted.” Also; “Except in the most aggravated case a coachman will not be taken from his box and put under arrest. It will be sufficient to take his name and address and arrest him on the following morning.”
After a New Year’s Reception the White House is a sorry sight, even though by using extra strips of carpet to protect the polished floors and by removing fine rugs and breakable bric-à-brac every possible precaution is taken to make the damage as slight as possible. But it doesn’t take long to restore the house to its normal condition. The way the crowd of workmen used to go about putting the place in order after an invasion of this kind always reminded me of the well-drilled stage hands at a hippodrome who manage to set different scenes and keep things spic-and-span without even interfering with a continuous performance.
Very shortly after the New Year’s Reception, three days later in fact, we gave the next big event of the season, the Diplomatic Reception. It is understood, of course, that one of the chief occupations ‘of the President of the United States is shaking hands. I am moved to this observation by memories of uncounted hours by my husband’s side in a receiving line at the White House when thousands of guests passed by, each separately introduced to both the President and to me and each extending an untired hand to give and to receive the hearty grasp which all good Americans so highly regard. And there is no conceivable form of work or exercise more fatiguing. If it were not for the mental stimulus afforded by the friendliness of a gay throng, by music and lights and a general festive atmosphere, it could hardly be borne.
For Mr. Taft it was never so hard because in his long public career, and especially through a political campaign, he had had considerable training for it. But for me it was ​somewhat more difficult. My friends used to wonder how I could stand it, but when I was well I never found it so much of a strain that I could not very quickly recover from it. When I was not feeling particularly strong I would resort to all manner of innocent pretexts to give myself short intervals of rest. I would turn around and engage in important conversation with someone behind me; I would consume minutes in taking a drink of water; or I would get into serious difficulty with my flowers or something. Then, too, I sometimes would sit frankly down and let the crowds pass by.
To me the long standing was the real strain and I soon came to a point where I was willing to sacrifice appearance to approximate comfort by wearing wide flat slippers with low heels.
The Diplomatic Reception is undoubtedly the most brilliant of the set state functions which are given at the White House each year, but to ine it was never as interesting as the Diplomatic Dinner which follows it. There are thirty-nine foreign Embassies and Legations in Washington. Each Ambassador and Minister has his own distinctive and sometimes very elaborate regalia; each attaché, military and naval, wears the uniform of his service, in many cases very picturesque and often positively flamboyant; the foreign women, gowned exquisitely, are many of them crowned with tiaras and laden with jewels, and when they are all gathered around one great, glittering and gorgeously decorated table they present such a picture of varied colour and magnificence as is not to be seen on any other occasion in Washington.
I used always to wonder how they managed to get along with each other. There is an impression quite general among us that we are the only nation on earth that sends
©Harris X Ewing
THE CRESCENT TABLE IN THE STATE DINING ROOM ARRANGED FOR THE DIPLOMATIC DINNER
It all depends on how long they have been in Washington. When I first went to the White House the Italian Ambassador was the Dean of the Diplomatic Corps, with the Austrian Ambassador next, while among the Ministers those from Siam and from Costa Rica, I think, had precedence over all others. If the Minister of Haiti remained in Washington long enough he could outrank the Minister of Spain. The Minister of Haiti is the only negro diplomat in the Corps and his place at table in my time was with a group of envoys of almost equal rank who sat together near one outer end of the great crescent.
It was not possible to invite many outsiders to the Diplomatic Dinner because there were enough of the Diplomats themselves with their wives and attachés to tax the capacity of the State Dining Room. But Mr. Taft never did take space limits into consideration. For both Receptions and Dinners I used always to go over the invitation lists and do my best to keep them within bounds. Regretfully enough would I cut them wherever I found it possible, but my husband, according to his fixed habit, invariably added more names than I took off, so, thanks to him, we have to our credit the largest dinner parties ever given in the new Executive Mansion. Mr. McKim in his report on the restoration ​of the White House says the Dining Room will hold one hundred, but strained to its utmost capacity ninety-two was as many as I could ever crowd into it, and then everybody was aghast at the number. We might have put a star in the hollow of the crescent so as to accommodate a few more, but I never thought of it until this moment. I'm glad it never occurred to Mr. Taft. With his expansive disposition be certainly would have had it tried.
The Reception crowds I did manage to cut down. It simply had to be done. When more than two thousand people get into the White House it is a literal "crush" and nobody has a good time. We not only introduced dancing in the East Room at Receptions, a feature which delighted everybody and especially the young people, but we always served refreshments to every guest within our gates.
This was, I suppose, the most generally approved departure from established custom that was made during my administration. It was made possible by cutting down the list of guests one half and inviting one half to one reception and the other half to the next. As a matter of fact, preparing a buffet supper for a company of 2,000 people is not much more of a strain on ordinary household resources than serving a nine or ten course formal dinner to eighty or ninety guests. Neither undertaking is particularly simple, but the White House kitchen and pantries are large and adequate, we had an efficient staff and we never had any mishaps or embarrassments that I remember.
Several days before a large reception my cooks would begin to turn out piles upon piles of small pastries and to do all the things that could be done in advance. Then on the day of the reception, with plenty of extra assistants, it was found easily possible to prepare all the salads and sandwiches, the ices and sweets, the lemonades and the punches that were necessary. Nor did we find that it interfered in the least with the usual household routine. We took our ​meals in the small family dining room adjoining the State Dining Room, and even gave small and successful dinner parties while the State Dining Room was in the hands of the carpenters and decorators.
Referring to the serving of refreshments reminds me of an incident which gave us some uneasiness shortly after Mr. Taft's election. It was during that phase of his career which all Presidents pass through, when his most casual remark was likely to be construed into an "utterance," and his most ordinary act was likely to become a widely heralded "example." It was while he was still being held up as a model of all the excellencies—framed in a question mark: "What will he do?" In other words it was before his Inauguration.
He was at a dinner at Hot Springs, Virginia. As the wine was being served one of the diners turned down his glass with the remark that he had not taken a drink for eighteen years. Mr. Taft, in the most usual and commonplace manner, followed suit, saying that he had been a total abstainer for nearly two years and expected to continue so. The incident was made the basis of a sensational newspaper story which created the impression that he had acted with great dramatic effect and that his remark amounted to a declaration of principle which he would turn into a Presidential policy.
Immediately he was overwhelmed with memorials, with resolutions of commendation framed by some of the most worthy and admirable Christian and temperance organisations in the country. It was taken for granted that he would banish alcohol in every form from the White House. In simple honesty he had to tell all the reverend gentlemen that he had made no pronouncement with regard to limiting White House hospitality, that he had no desire to interfere with any normal man's personal habits and that as President he had no intention of trying to do so.
​The truth is that he is a total abstainer because never in his life has he indulged in stimulants to any extent; they have no attraction for him whatever, and he found in those days that with so much dining out, it was wiser to decline all wines and liquors. Being naturally abstemious he has always rather objected to being given personal credit for such virtue.
It was about this time that I, too, got into trouble of a peculiar sort. In the mass of correspondence which began to roll in upon me as soon as my husband was elected, there were requests of every possible kind from all parts of the world. Among these came a letter from a society of women engaged in political and social reform work in one of the newer Balkan States, asking me to lend my aid in forming a similar society in the United States.
I declined with as much grace and courtesy as I could command and thought nothing more about it. Imagine my surprise to find almost immediately that my reply had been construed by its recipients into a sort of expression of personal interest in and sympathy for the people of their country in general. I was proclaimed the warm friend of the young State and an enemy to all her enemies. The incident became the subject of an exchange of diplomatic notes in Washington, and it took a bit of the suavity of the State Department to extricate me from the tangle in which my alleged active participation in the trouble in the Balkans had placed me. It taught me a lesson.
MRS. TAFT'S OWN PICTURE OF THE WHITE HOUSE
I see I have wandered away from the receptions and dinners and my attempt to tell in some sort of consecutive fashion what a social season at the White House consists of, but remembering the crowds I lived in for four years it seems to me that everybody must know just as much about these things as I do. I have to keep reminding myself that I am not writing altogether for people who live in Washington, but for the people in the far places who have never been to Washington, but who have just as much of a personal property right in the nation's capital and just as much interest in the proper conduct of its affairs whether they be be legislative, administrative, diplomatic, or merely social, as any President ever had.