"The curious defiled past him, after squeezing the Presidential fingers into the room, and settled either on the sofa or chairs or remained standing for protracted observations"
About this Quote
Nothing flatters power quite like a traffic jam of strangers insisting on physical contact. Villard’s line is a cool, faintly amused snapshot of Washington’s ritualized intimacy: the public squeeze-by where the “curious” literally compress the President’s fingers as their admission ticket into the room. That odd phrasing, “squeezing the Presidential fingers into the room,” turns handshake politics into a kind of bodily bottleneck, reducing the head of state to a movable object people push past in order to see what they came to see.
The intent isn’t to praise access; it’s to expose its choreography. Villard gives you the social mechanics: the crowd files in, claims furniture like theater seating, or stands “for protracted observations” as if the President were an exhibit. “Curious” does a lot of work here. It suggests less civic engagement than gawking, the appetite of spectators who want proximity to authority without necessarily caring about policy. The verb “defiled” sharpens the critique: a slightly dirty word for a slightly dirty scene, hinting that this stream of visitors is degrading, not democratic.
Contextually, Villard is writing from inside the 19th-century press culture that thrived on these tableaux. He understands the handshake line as both performance and proof: a President must be seen enduring the public, while the public confirms its own importance by touching him. The subtext is fatigue and dehumanization: leadership measured not in decisions but in how long you can stand there while people stare.
The intent isn’t to praise access; it’s to expose its choreography. Villard gives you the social mechanics: the crowd files in, claims furniture like theater seating, or stands “for protracted observations” as if the President were an exhibit. “Curious” does a lot of work here. It suggests less civic engagement than gawking, the appetite of spectators who want proximity to authority without necessarily caring about policy. The verb “defiled” sharpens the critique: a slightly dirty word for a slightly dirty scene, hinting that this stream of visitors is degrading, not democratic.
Contextually, Villard is writing from inside the 19th-century press culture that thrived on these tableaux. He understands the handshake line as both performance and proof: a President must be seen enduring the public, while the public confirms its own importance by touching him. The subtext is fatigue and dehumanization: leadership measured not in decisions but in how long you can stand there while people stare.
Quote Details
| Topic | Writing |
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