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 he 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
