The Olivia Letters: Being Some History of Washington City for Forty Years as Told by the Letters of a Newspaper CorrespondentBriggs, Emily Edson
History
The Olivia Letters: Being Some History of Washington City for Forty Years as Told by the Letters of a Newspaper Correspondent
Briggs, Emily Edson
United States -- Politics and government -- 1865-1933; Washington (D.C.) -- History
Striking points of similarity exist between the old monarchy and
the young Republic. China is divided into provinces as our country
is divided into States. Education is within reach of all. From the
humblest beginning merit can rise and divide the honors with the
imperial blood. An inexorable fiat envelops China as with a network
of bristling steel. It is the supreme law of the land. There is
no appeal from its decree. It holds the highest and the lowest in
its vise-like grasp. Like death, it respects no private claim. The
Emperor is as impotent before it as the Chinaman who has not the
wherewith to provide a dinner. This is the one great principle, the
all-powerful cohesive force which has kept this vast Empire together
from time immemorial. Let America try to forget the past, and in this
respect walk in the footsteps of the imperial China.
OLIVIA.
A TALENTED QUARTETTE.
MADAME LE VERT, GAIL HAMILTON, VINNIE REAM, AND MRS. LANDER.
WASHINGTON, _January, 1869_.
A reception at the governor’s mansion occupies that middle ground
which may be supposed to be between a President’s levee and the
private party given by a well-to-do Congressman. The governor
must invite everybody because he is everybody’s servant, like the
President, only he has no White House and paid retinue of lackeys, no
fuel and gas found, and no fifty thousand per year. On the contrary
“he must find himself,” and this he will be obliged to do whenever
the enormous bills are paid. If one could have seen the crowds that
for four mortal hours filled the governor’s large dining-hall they
would have prayed for a repetition of the same miracle that took
place some eighteen hundred years ago, when the bread and fish could
not give out, and water was spoiled by being turned into wine.
But the worst comes. We have got a governor--none of your
milk-and-water kind--and who looks every inch a governor, as much
as the great Napoleon looked like an emperor. We have so many
“figure-heads,” which are the result of the appointing power, that
when the real article turns up let us thank President Grant for his
act, for it makes no difference to us whether he does the right thing
by design or mistake. But the governor’s ball. Everybody was there.
The governor stood at the entrance of the broad door that led to the
right of the hall, arrayed with the usual ministerial black-looking
robe, and acting only as a governor should. By his side stood my
lady, tall, elegantly dressed in charming simplicity. She is still
very youthful to be called to occupy so prominent a place. Her dress
was simple white muslin with an overdress of black velvet, white
ruche at the throat with tiniest of rosebuds in the pleatings; no
jewels, no gewgaws. She must have taken Madame Thiers, the wife of
the early President of the French Republic, for her model, or, later
still, Madame MacMahon, not only the first lady but one of the most
sensible women in France.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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