Chapter X: Part 10

The officers to be elected in the new Congress are Clerk, Sergeant-at-Arms, Postmaster, and Doorkeeper. Pennsylvania is in possession of the Clerk’s office, and there seems to be little or no opposition to the present accomplished officer. New York holds fast to the Doorkeeper, and at this point of the proceedings there seems little cause for alarm. The great struggle, however, is going to be between the contestants for Postmaster and Sergeant-at-Arms. The present Postmaster has all the strength of the House, because he has proved himself a worthy and efficient officer, but Sergeant Sherwood ought to have the place, because he would make one of the handsomest officers in the House, where beauty is at a discount; besides he takes good care of his widowed mother, and he has but one shapely leg and no wife to comfort him in case he is defeated. If women were on the floor of Congress, Sergeant would be elected without a dissenting voice, and a mild hint is feelingly insinuated that every man on the floor shall vote exactly as if he expected at some future time in his life to become the connecting link between woman and the angels.

But whilst the old Forty-first Congress is prostrated with a paralytic stroke a great cry is heard from the hungry South. It is declared that the New England and Western States are represented in the leading offices of the House, but nowhere is the voice of the sugar-cane heard. Louisiana and Tennessee have both lifted up their eyes, and refused to be comforted unless room is found for one or the other in the national council. At the same time, between the groans of the dying monarch, merriment and feasting are heard. The present New Hampshire Sergeant-at-Arms is busily engaged in tickling the palates of helpless Congressmen. Across Capitol square, in a house of modest pretension, a table is spread which would make the President’s “incomparable Melah” clasp his hands with joy. It has been proven beyond a doubt that the vote of Congressmen often lies in the stomach, and with this end in view New England has been searched for chaste white pullets to make chicken salad as thorough in its action as a bottle of Spaulding’s glue. And yet, in the very midst of the feasts, a member with a stomach as capacious as a cotton-gin has shown alarming symptoms. His limbs have begun to tremble, and his knees act like the arch in carnival time. His mouth is seen to open without apparent cause, and a sound issues therefrom: “I say, Ordway! Any more chicken salad? I don’t like to bet on the champagne. You can have my vote (hic). Free country! Free carriages! Hip! hip! hooray!”

The House is still in session. The sonorous voice of the reading clerk opens the appropriation bill and reads: “To Joseph S. Wilson, for the valuable scientific Museum at the General Land Office, $10,000.”

At this point of the proceedings Mr. Kelsey, of New York, declares that Mr. Wilson is not entitled to one cent of it. Mr. Kelsey affirms that Mr. Edmunds, the predecessor of Mr. Wilson, sent a circular to surveyors, registers, and receivers of land offices throughout the country, thus officially authorizing them to collect the specimens of which this mineral and geological cabinet is composed. Mr. Kelsey likewise declared that Professor Hayden, formerly of the Interior Department, had donated to the Land Office his collection, gathered during the time he was connected with the Department. In 1868 Mr. Wilson sent a circular into the country, after the manner of his predecessor, and all specimens weighing less than four pounds were allowed to be sent through the mails free. These articles were arranged by a clerk and labeled by the same, and put in paper cases, at an expense of a little more than $9,000 to the Government. After this plain statement of the case, Mr. Kelsey subsided, yet the House voted $10,000 to Joseph S. Wilson for superintending this work less than three years, in addition to his own salary. Mr. Sargent, of California, said in extenuation of his vote that Mr. Wilson had been a faithful public officer for forty years, and although he had a perfect knowledge of the land system he didn’t own a single acre, and that he was now compelled to apply for copying for members of his family or to rent rooms for lodgings to support the same; and now, instead of pensioning an old and faithful public servant, as is done in every civilized country except our own, it is sought to rob him of the acknowledgment of meritorious service.

Upon the same principle that the Government is responsible for the pecuniary condition of those it employs, General Banks moved that Vinnie Ream should be paid an additional five thousand dollars for her immortal statue of Lincoln. In the most feeling manner he referred to the years of patient toil which the young artist had bestowed upon the model. In language of a statesman he depicted the woman, and the beauty and purity of the marble of which the celebrated statue is composed. All the strong points of the case were handled with a master’s dexterity, and General Banks suddenly collapsed before the scorching corruscations of his own mind. General Butler then arose and declared himself safe on the woman question. He had no objection to Vinnie Ream’s rosy lips and bright eyes, so long as they continued to be Congressional property, but he dare not, even for her sake, pick the national pockets in the daytime; and he therefore gave way to Mr. Dawes, the most economical man in Congress, who seemed to be exceedingly annoyed that his gallantry should be held up as a target for the shafts of less scrupulous Congressmen. Mr. Dawes protested against this bold proposition of General Banks; but a disinterested observer could perceive by the drooping of his eyelids, and the ready, flute-like tones of his voice, that a woman was in some way mixed up with the case, and that he was battling as only a man can with the waters of demoralization. Another Congressman was about to make a speech against giving Vinnie the additional five thousand, but before he had time to open his lips he was seized by one of the monsters of the lobby and hurried to a spot where a view of Vinnie’s modest studio greeted his vision. Filmy lace shrouded the tall gaunt windows. The clear little doves which the inimitable artist had brought from Rome were cooing and kissing, and baskets of flowers were slowly steeping in the beams of amber sunshine. The member fell on his face and wept, at the same time General Banks and the motion were carried.

OLIVIA.

PRAISE FOR DEPARTING LEGISLATORS.

VALUE OF GEORGE W. JULIAN’S SERVICES TO THE NATION.

WASHINGTON, _March 7, 1871_.

The Forty-first Congress of the United States has passed into history. It will simply be remembered on account of its negative qualities. It has done little good to its friends, and less harm to its enemies. It attempted reconstruction, but this was too large a pill for so small a throat, so the whole matter has been stowed away in Ben Butler’s committee room, where it is expected that it will be kept in the very best state of preservation. No law has been enacted to protect the Southern Unionist, whilst the bloody Ku Klux and fierce highwayman hold possession of every inch of the late Confederate soil. Is not the word “liberty” a mockery when every prominent Republican in certain districts of the country has to go armed to the teeth? when women, for expressing their sentiments, are taken from their beds at midnight and cruelly flogged by fiends with human forms and masked faces? With a Republican administration and a Congress made up of a majority of the same element, why are not life and free expression of opinion protected everywhere? Who is to blame for murder, rapine, and violence? Who is to blame for the pall which is slowly settling down upon the forces of the late grand army of the Republic? Is it not madness to talk about universal suffrage and universal amnesty when life and property are no more safe than in the South American republics? Why should we attempt to annex more territory, when, apparently, we have not the strength to keep the peace within our own domain? If Congress denies the President power to send the military wherever the laws are defied, let him bring the same influence to bear upon it as in the San Domingo business, and the matter will be settled in less time than it takes to cook this national pie. Where is the coming man or woman who will have the power and strength of mind to blot out Mason and Dixon’s line, and who will make this nation feel that it had no North, no South, no East, no West, but that it is one conglomerate whole, like a huge glacier or a mountain boulder?

The Forty-first Congress will be remembered because some of the largest minds and best men in the country with its departure will step back into the ranks of private life. It is a national loss when such men as George W. Julian can be found no longer on the floors of Congress. As chairman of the Committee on Public Lands he has saved millions of dollars for the Government. Firm as adamant, he has stood before the waves of corruption, whilst the humblest and weakest have always found in him a firm friend. It is true, he is one of the warmest advocates of woman suffrage, and for this reason, perhaps more than any other, the womanhood of this country should give this important subject a most thorough investigation, for when a great and good man like Mr. Julian advises what is good for us let us listen and not be afraid. Mr. Julian is not only immense in physical size, but he also has a colossal mental organization. At all times he is an ardent searcher after knowledge and truth. Not a great many years ago Mr. Julian lost a most beautiful and accomplished wife, and very soon after a boy of rare promise. How the strong man writhed beneath this double blow! For months he seemed more like a stone statue than a living man. Meeting him one day and noticing that look of the grave on his face, the writer ventured to say, “If there is any truth in spiritualism, she may be very near you.” “If there is any truth in spiritualism I will know it,” replied Mr. Julian. After a separation of months we met again. “Any tidings from the unknown bourne?” “None! None whatever. I have patiently investigated. It is all chaff! chaff! I have not been able to gather a single kernel of wheat. God will take care of us all in his own way. I think I am learning the lesson of submission, and this is the hardest task man is ever set to learn.”

Mr. Julian was an Abolitionist in the days when nothing could be more disgraceful; when urchins, with boys of a larger growth, pelted the unfortunate advocate of such ideas with eggs no longer fresh laid. During the long bitter years of the rebellion Mr. Julian worked with untiring energy, not only in his seat on the floor of the House, but wherever he was needed he proved himself to be the soldier’s friend. He has served twelve years in Congress, and during all this time he has never been identified with any legislative measure except such as reflects credit on his judgment and the Republican party. If he has not achieved immortal renown during his last term as a member, it is because the Forty-first Congress has been in a mildewed condition from the beginning to the decline. Mr. Julian has just passed the noon of life, but the flush of morning still shines in his countenance, and on bright, sunny days he may be seen wending his way toward the Capitol, his fine face aglow with honest, kindly feeling, and his majestic form towering a whole head above the majority of his countrymen. Let the country he has so long and honorably served bid him a momentary adieu, with the expectation that he will respond at any future time when the services of a man are required who needs a reputation like that of Cæsar’s wife. The nation’s loss is Indiana’s gain, and if the benighted State is to be regenerated, the result will be brought about through the unremitting toil of such men as George W. Julian.

The Commonwealth of Ohio has recalled Judge Welker and Judge Lawrence, two of the soundest Republicans and safest men in the country. As one of the most prominent members of the Committee for the District of Columbia, Judge Welker has had no easy task to perform. All matters of importance pertaining to the District have been brought to his notice, and all complaints for which it was supposed that Congressional legislation could provide a remedy have been poured into his ears unsparingly. If any abuses were found to exist at the national lunatic asylum the presence of Judge Welker was instantly sought. This man has been six years in Congress, and during this time no man can show a better record. He has never been caught in the snares of the lobby, and he goes back to his constituents with clean, spotless hands. It is rumored that Ohio intends to make him a governor, and if the best material is needed for the sacrifice nothing better can be found. Judge Welker is a self-made man, and that may help to account for his firm, steel-like qualities. It would take the sum total of twenty-five ordinary Congressmen to make a man equal in every moral aspect to Judge Welker; and when it can be said that he is made of colors that will not wash, and that neither man, woman, nor child ever pinned their faith to him and was disappointed, nothing further is necessary descriptive of his character.

In figure this late Congressman is rather below the medium size, with a finely formed head, crowned with heavy luxuriant curls, in exchange for which a woman would almost sell her birthright. Now add a pair of deep, dark eyes, so transparent that you can often catch a glimpse of the soul within, and you have the leading points that indicate the man known as Judge Martin Welker.

Judge Lawrence has been a brave man on the floor of Congress, and no member has inspired the lobby with greater terror. He has always been the sworn foe of railroad schemes, ocean subsidies, corporations, and monopolies. How vigilantly he has watched the late appropriation bills; and he never seemed to realize that there was any difference between Uncle Sam’s pocket and his own. How thoroughly he has attended to the affairs of his constituents. If he has sometimes been accused of selfishness, Ohio has never had reason to complain, for if he has sinned in this respect it has all been done for her sake. Mr. Lincoln declared during the late rebellion that Massachusetts, Ohio, and Iowa controlled the destiny of this nation. If this is conceded, it is because of the strength of the Congressional delegation of these respective States. Ohio has been trying the experiment of “rotation in office,” and for the next two years the old Buckeye State will be out at sea on her trial trip. It is true some of the old officers are left at their posts, and if no storms arise the ship will probably return in safety.

Iowa, not content to let well enough alone, has recalled two-thirds of her late delegation. No longer will the eye of the gallery be dazzled by him who has been termed the handsomest man in Congress. Alas! alas! William B. Allison is no more in the seat he lately occupied. Never again will the large brown eyes be seen wandering uneasily from floor to ceiling, seeking some soft, receptive spot, whereon to languish and die. Mr. Allison’s Congressional reputation rests upon the fact that to all appearances he has been the bosom friend of Representative Hooper, of Boston. It is not known positively whether Mr. Allison will return to Iowa and resume the practice of law, or whether he intends to be stuffed and sent to Boston to occupy a conspicuous ornamental place in Mr. Hooper’s gorgeous library. As soon as a decision is reached the people shall be apprised.

Mr. Loughridge, of Iowa, also goes out. He will chiefly be remembered as favoring the minority report on the woman suffrage question in the Judiciary Committee. Judge Loughridge agrees with Mrs. Woodhull on the fourteenth and fifteenth amendments to the Constitution, and thinks women are already entitled to vote.

Pennsylvania has made a great clearing in the ranks of her Representatives. One-half of the late members of the Forty-first Congress are re-elected. But this includes the late Hon. John Covode. According to the record, eleven of the old members are in their seats and thirteen new men are to try their hands at the raw work of legislation. The most prominent men who retire are Charles O’Neill, of Philadelphia, and Daniel J. Morrell, of Johnstown, both able men on the floor. Mr. O’Neill has been in Congress eight years, winning fresh honors with every succeeding year, and just at the present time, when he has attained the zenith of Congressional usefulness, he slips back into the calm waters of private life. If Philadelphia can stand the affliction there is no one else to complain. Hon. Charles O’Neill looks as if he had just laid aside all care and trouble and was about to commence the world again.

Chicago recalls the stately Mr. Judd, one of the most courtly and elegant men in Congress. Few men are stronger than he is in legislative matters; but a man of polished manners is remarkable because the House of Representatives is not noted for its laws of genteel propriety. And then it is so strange that Chicago should be distinguished for its grace or courtly qualities.

The Hon. Shelby M. Cullom goes also, but then it is said that he will return next winter as Congressman for the State at large. The greatest wit in Congress, Proctor Knott, retires to the shades of Lebanon, Kentucky. Who will forget his memorable speech on the railroad to Duluth and the paving of Pennsylvania avenue? We know nothing about his qualities as a legislator, but blessings be on the head of a man that can make us laugh.

Rogers, of Arkansas, actually yields up the legislative ghost. Rogers, the man who wanted all the women of the Treasury blown out exactly as the flame of a lamp is served. “Poor Rogers,” Susan B. Anthony calls him. If the delectable Susan meant poor in flesh, she was right, for Rogers resembles a bear immediately upon waking up after taking its long delicious winter snooze.

This letter comes to an end because no more ex-Congressmen to-day can step across the vestibule of our mind.

OLIVIA.

THE BLACK MAN IN CONGRESS.

SKETCHES OF A NUMBER OF SOLONS OF AFRICAN DESCENT.

WASHINGTON, _March 11, 1871_.

At the third session of the Fortieth Congress appeared the first colored man on the floor of the United States Congress. The name of this man was Willis Menard, and he hailed from New Orleans, La. Mr. Menard came to Washington as a contestant for a seat in the House, but his rival gained the victory. This man was allowed the floor in order to make his defence, and awarded $2,500 with which to pay the damages. Mr. Menard’s maiden speech reflected great credit upon himself and the newspaper with which he was connected, but it failed of the desired effect, and he soon after took his departure for more sunny climes. Mr. Menard was a handsome quadroon, and it is said that he derived a certain smooth, sinuous voice from his Creole ancestors.

The next candidates for Congressional fame were Jefferson F. Long and Joseph H. Rainey. These were the first colored men who obtained a foothold in the House. These men came from their respective States armed with the proper documents, and without further notice or trouble slipped into their seats in the outside row, the farthest from the Speaker. It is not known whether by design or accident it happened that their seats were chosen so very near the door. At any rate they were in the very best position that could be obtained to flee in case the wily Logan should attempt capitol moving, or the fiery eloquence of a Butler or Banks should communicate flames to the nervous surroundings. How quaint these two strange youthful faces appeared by the side of wrinkles, frost and snow. Black men? No! White men? No! But tinted a shade the Eternal knows how to mix. Jefferson F. Long, of Macon, was born in Crawford County, Georgia. With great difficulty he obtained the rudiments of an education. He was engaged in the business of a merchant tailor when he was elected, and his term of office closed with the Forty-first Congress. It always takes the first two years to learn the trade of a member, consequently Mr. Long could not accomplish much during his apprenticeship, but he proved himself as apt at the business as the average white man, and he gained the respect and good-will of his fellow workmen. He will be remembered as one of the first two colored men elected to Congress; and the Forty-first Congress will be famous only because, for the first time in the country’s history, a race which forms an integral part of the nation had a hearing through their own people. The Forty-first Congress is scored in history by a colored mark which will deepen and broaden as the Republic runs its course.

Joseph H. Rainey was born in Georgetown, S. C. His parents were natives of the same city, but by their industry obtained their freedom. He was never allowed to attend school, but in some way he managed to gather the rudiments of an education. This knowledge was vastly augmented and improved by travel in the West Indies and elsewhere. During the war he was obliged to work on the rebel fortifications, but he managed to escape and did not come back until the close of the war, and then he returned to Georgetown. He was elected a delegate to the State constitutional convention in 1868, and was a member of the State Senate in 1870, which position he resigned to fill the vacancy caused by the resignation of B. F. Whittemore, of cadet fame.

Mr. Rainey is one of the five colored members of the Forty-second Congress. In features and complexion he is far more like an Asiatic than an African. In size he has attained sufficient height for exceeding grace, and then he has a voice like a flute, and the smooth, soft velvet ways of the Orientals. It is true, he has kind of an innocent habit of putting his hands in the place where a revolver or bowie knife is usually kept; but then he says, “We all have to go armed in the South, ready at a moment’s warning to sell our lives if it is necessary. No Republican of any prominence is safe.” Perhaps no man in the country has had so strange and eventful a history as Mr. Rainey. Born a slave, though early free, reared amidst the degradation of this despotism, debarred from the light of learning, yet he takes his seat in Congress before a line indicative of age has marked his countenance, representing the town and district in which he was born. He seems to have fallen into his seat as noiselessly as a snowflake touches the earth. He sits by General Butler. _Contraband! Contraband!_ The problem is solved.

Josiah T. Walls, the member from Florida, was born in North Carolina, of free parents, and looks as if he were about 28 years of age. He was educated in Philadelphia, and served in the Union Army, leaving school to fight the battles of his country. After the war Florida became his home, and he was first chosen to the house and afterwards to the senate of the State. He resigned his seat in the State senate in order to come to Congress. It is said that Mr. Walls is of Indian extraction, but in appearance he resembles a bright mulatto, of good features and average height. In personal raiment he is not eclipsed by any Congressman, and he may be seen in his seat, clad in polished broadcloth, spotless linen, and dainty blue necktie. A snowy handkerchief of pineapple origin, peeping from his pocket, photographs the taste of an exquisite gentleman. General Butler being absent from the House when the seats were chosen, Mr. Walls, fortunate in the choice of a good one, tendered it to the warrior, by whom it was accepted.

Robert C. De Large, of the Charleston district, is here in place of the Hon. C. C. Bowen, whose numerous wives are becoming as famous as Brigham Young’s. He presents an aspect of as much intellectual strength in his personal appearance as nine-tenths of the members on the floor. Mr. De Large was born free in South Carolina, received the scanty rudiments of an education, but being a man of great force of character, he knew how to make the most of his advantages. During the war he worked on the rebel fortifications. He has always taken an active part in politics, and was appointed clerk in the Freedmen’s Bureau. He was also a member of the constitutional convention, and subsequently a member of the legislature, where he was chairman of the committee on ways and means. Mr. De Large has acquired distinction as a parliamentarian. In person this Congressman bears very little resemblance to the African race. His mother was a Haytien, and he inherits a rich olive skin. In stature he is rather below the medium size, and his exceeding grace of manner might be imitated to the advantage of more experienced Congressmen. Mr. De Large is 28 years old.

Benjamin S. Turner, of Alabama, was born in North Carolina, in 1825, but removed to the State he represents in 1830. He was born a slave and remained so until the proclamation of Abraham Lincoln. Under the most trying and difficult circumstances he learned to read. His master’s children taught him to repeat the letters of the alphabet, but it was a long time afterwards before he knew the relation between the name and the printed character. He says he was mostly educated by reading the New York _Herald_, though occasionally, once in a very long time, he managed to get hold of a New York _Tribune_. Mr. Turner was first elected tax gatherer of Dallas County, where he was required to furnish a bond of $45,000. This he was enabled to do, but he did not enjoy the office, and so he resigned. He was then elected a member of the city council of Selma, and carried his district by over 5,000 majority. Soon after he was elected to Congress. In person Mr. Turner is above the average height, with all indications of immense muscular power. His figure might answer for a handsome statue of Hercules cast in bronze. If a man must have dark blood in his veins, it is well to be stained in the bright color of this Southern member. If the human eye is the window of the soul, what a defiant spirit crouches behind the fierce, sharp orbs of Mr. Turner. Then he has a way of biting off his words and spitting them out, as if they had a bitter instead of savory taste. Although a slave, it is easy to see that he was never made to kiss the rod. Coming to the stationery room of the House the first day of the Forty-second Congress, he requested that certain sundries be sent to his rooms, at the same time offering to pay for them. He was told that members were allowed a certain amount, which was charged to them; all over this was paid for. Said he, “I am well aware of that. If the Government allows me anything I will get it at the right time, but I’ll pay for what I have; I keep no open accounts with any man.” And the jaws closed with all the force produced by two hundred years of bondage. Mr. Turner is a strong man in his way, but whether his qualities are such as will give him distinction in Congress time alone must decide.

Robert B. Elliot, the colored man who represents the proud capital of the late hot-bed of secession, differs in many ways from the other tawny members. He is not only a genuine African, without a drop of white blood to lessen the darkness, but he is a carpetbagger of the Massachusetts persuasion. The first gun fired at Sumter opened the way for this most astonishing spectacle of the nineteenth century. Oh, the long, bitter, savage struggle between Massachusetts and South Carolina! The Palmetto State flung down the glove when her guns opened on Sumter. As fast as steam could travel Massachusetts had her soldiers in Washington to pick it up. Cotton and rice went under. Codfish and mackerel prevailed, whilst one man in the inky covering of Robert B. Elliot represents both Massachusetts and South Carolina on the floor of Congress. A shadowy halo of romance surrounds this man, and it is very hard to sift the truth from the hundred tales that are afloat concerning his origin and history. It is said that he was educated in England and that he is familiar with many languages, but none, so far, as we can understand, have heard him converse in anything but his supposed mother tongue. Mr. Elliot has been a resident of South Carolina since the war. He has a fine English education, and is a lawyer by profession. At one time he was editor of the _South Carolina Leader_, which he conducted with ability and considerable eclat. It is thought by a great many that he will lead the colored men in Congress. This may be so, but it is well to remember that the fiery blood of the South flows in Mr. Turner’s veins, and the probabilities are that the feuds between Massachusetts and South Carolina will not be allowed to die for the want of proper material to feed the flame. Mr. Elliot was a member of the Republican convention, also a member of the legislature, where he was chairman of the committee on railroads. At the present time the subject of railroads is of vast importance to the people of South Carolina. There is no possible way of making a thing of beauty and a joy forever out of Mr. Elliot. If he were a British commissioner or an African prince it would be all the same. Nature has fixed him up according to her best ideas of a man, and it is evident that she did not consult him or any other mortal in the matter. The New York _Tribune_ says he is very fine looking “when his face lights up.” If this is so, there is nothing to prevent him from procuring a patent illuminator and becoming the handsomest man in Congress, unless General Butler steals a march on him and appropriates everything of the kind to be found for his own use. Mr. Elliot is reputed to be a man of considerable wealth and much refinement; but you can no more judge of his age than you could that of a porcelain egg.

OLIVIA.

BY THE GRACE OF THE QUEEN.

HER MAJESTY’S REPRESENTATIVES ON THE JOINT HIGH COMMISSION.

WASHINGTON, _March 17, 1871_.

To the modest suburban building temporarily occupied by the State Department the eye of the country is directed. A cozy suite of rooms are set apart in this same pile of brick and mortar, where a body of men called the joint high commission meet in order to discuss the little “unpleasantnesses” which have occurred from time to time between two governments which have both pretended to be united to each other by the most natural and fraternal ties. It is not the object of this letter to disclose any of the secrets that are caressed and embraced within those awful doors, vigilantly guarded by locks and keys, but some of the ceremonies and forms observed, as well as the dress and bearings of those in authority, may not come amiss to the general reader.

As early as 10 in the morning carriages are seen rapidly approaching the State Department. After depositing the distinguished human freight the carriages disappear. We have the joint high commission within the building. It may be thought that these men all enter the same room, consult and measure red tape together. Far from any such nonsense. The British commissioners go into a room by themselves; the American commissioners betake themselves to another; and each country talks to itself some two hours, more or less. Then the commissioners of both countries adjourn to a room in the same building, where a modest lunch of crackers and cheese is spread.

Then the joint high commission throat is deluged with the choicest wines that have outlived the perils of an ocean voyage. This performance safely over, the commissioners of both countries adjourn to the same room, where Earl de Grey discourses for the British lion, and Secretary Fish speaks in behalf of the American eagle, while the remainder of the joint high commissioners keep “whist” as hunters in search of the flying game. It will readily be seen that the English commissioners have simply their instructions to carry out. There is no free discussion between the members of both sides. Each side is heard through its mouthpiece, and it is safe to say that no fault can be found with the awful dignity of the joint high commission.

Somewhere between the hours of 4 and 5 in the afternoon this distinguished assembly adjourns, and every evening in the week a dinner party is waiting somewhere for the Englishmen. The writer heard Sir Stafford Northcote say that the “social duties of the commission were becoming the hardest part of the work.” Just as the Hon. Reverdy Johnson was wined and dined in England, the royal scions of nobility are treated here. One evening they are invited to General Sherman’s to see the Supreme Judges; another evening we have some other great and mighty man to show. Washington is determined to astonish these men, if excellent dinners will do it; besides it sounds well to point out to a morning visitor the very chair upon which some of the bluest blood of England has graciously reclined. Just as Queen Elizabeth used to select the right man for the right position, her Majesty’s Government has made choice of the right material for the right place. Like a wise woman, Victoria did not trouble herself about beauty, but chose her men as the mother advised her daughter when selecting a husband--for qualities that would wear. In the first place, she looked around for a great lawyer on international affairs, and selected her famous subject, Sir Montague Bernard, the present professor of international law at Oxford. Sir Montague Bernard has written a great many pamphlets on international law, besides a lecture on diplomacy, and the history of British neutrality during the late civil war. If by any sort of alchemy a man could be evolved from that immaterial something that goes to make English law, Mr. Bernard is the man. There seems to be just enough body about him to confine his international matter, with nothing left to love, hope, or die with. With a firm set mouth and peculiar voice! How one longs to lift up the lids of his mind and see the click and play of the awful machinery!

And now we come to the Earl de Gray, the spokesman of the commission. An editorial in _The Press_ has already given the titles which the centuries had constructed for this bit of earthy matter when it should come along. The Earl has inherited four titles, two from his father and two from his uncle, with large estates attached to each. The reader is requested to study Dr. Mackenzie’s article for all useful information, with the exception that the Earl was not described as Knight of the Garter. It may be owing to Dr. Mackenzie’s extreme delicacy in the matter, which is certainly most creditable to his refined and sensitive sex; but when a member of the joint high commission and a man who is said to belong to one of the first families of England appears at the White House, at a dinner given in his honor, with a garter tied around his left leg in plain sight of the ladies present, without any effort on his part to conceal the same, in spite of Dr. Mackenzie’s diffidence, this matter should be carefully unwound. Earl de Gray wore to the President’s dinner breeches that came to his knees, and these were met by black silk stockings that, whilst they concealed, did not hide his finely shaped lower extremities that leave off where his feet begin. The stocking on his right leg kept its place apparently without exterior fastenings; but the left was confined by a striped garter in black and white, held together by a chaste and modest buckle. It is true one of the lady guests was heard to inquire of another if she supposed that his lordship had lost its mate, and when she was told that the noble Earl had received this from the hand of his gracious sovereign, because an English woman had dropped hers in the dance, and that he wore it in deference to this sublime act, tears filled the eyes of the inquirer and she could only talk of the Earl’s great tenderness the remainder of the evening. The Earl de Grey married his cousin, who is a late lady of the bed chamber to the Princess of Wales. His only living child, Lord Goderich, is a young man, 19 years of age, and he accompanies the commission to this country. There is nothing in the personal appearance of Earl de Grey to indicate that the root of the family has pierced the mould below the times of Henry the First. He is a small man, with a head so large that he is inclined to look top heavy, with features that would attract little or no attention if they belonged to a Congressman. If he possesses ancestral pride, he must have left it in bonnie England, for he is distinguished above his associates for republican simplicity of manners. Socially speaking, no words are equal to the situation, and according to the description of our late countryman, Earl de Grey must possess the elegant and dignified ways of Washington Irving. The English nobleman was formerly a member of Parliament, was afterwards appointed Under Secretary of War, in June, 1859, and Secretary of State for War, in 1863, and subsequently for India, and retired in 1866, where he has rested until he was resurrected to do duty with the joint commission.

The Right Hon. Sir Stafford Northcote, Henry of Hayne, County Devon, Privy Councillor, Knight of the Bath, Doctor of Civil Law, Member of Parliament from North Devon, Secretary of State for India, late president of the board of trade, is the eighth baronet of that name, and succeeded to his title the 17th of March, 1851. The book says, “the great antiquity and high respectability of this family are clearly proved, by an ancient and copious pedigree, preserved in the College of Arms, accompanied by a great number of family deeds, fines, wills, etc., to several of which are affixed their seals or arms, which pedigree is continued down to the visitation of 1620, in the reign of King James the First.” It will readily be seen that it is a great blessing to any humble mortal to be born an English nobleman. Earth, sky, and water interest themselves in his favor. Offices of emolument and power hang ripe on the tree, awaiting the time when he shall be old enough to shake gently the branches. Sir Stafford has titles enough to take one’s breath away, but this fact is gleaned from various sources of information. There is no danger for some time of the baronetcy becoming extinct, as Sir Stafford has seven sons. Sir Stafford represents the Tory element of England, and is devotedly attached to the Crown. He is a fine type of the pure Saxon, and with the exception of Sir Edward Thornton the handsomest man of the number, if his size could be increased; but it is noticeable in this commission that the older the family from which the man sprung the smaller the size, which proves that even dust will wear out.

Lord Tenterden, as near as can be ascertained, comes from a new family, his father being the first nobleman of the line. The name of Tenterden does not figure much in books of knight errantry, consequently the reader’s attention is directed elsewhere in order to study this important subject. My lord secretary to Her Majesty’s high commission is rather a fine looking man, with large eyes, and a beard which conceals the entire lower part of his face. He may have a mouth somewhere concealed in the jungle of his mustache, but there is no evidence, so far as we have seen, of any such aperture. He is said to have a thorough understanding of English yachts, and it is thought in Washington that he is on excellent terms with His Majesty the Prince of Wales. It is his duty to record the doings of the high commission, but as he brought along a man to do the work, his place may be considered quite as ornamental as useful. But when he comes to dinner parties the right man is found for the right place. With what open arms his dear American cousins have received him! How they have crammed him with shad and canvas-back! Alas! alas! he must feel like a fat turkey at Thanksgiving time.

Sir Edward Thornton is well known in this country as the English minister resident, and no man connected with the foreign legations is more respected and beloved by our people. He came here an untitled man, having served for many years in various diplomatic positions in different parts of the world. At the time Prince Arthur was in this country he came more immediately under the eye of his sovereign, and she was so pleased with the treatment of her son, and remembering at the same time her great obligations to him as a subject, that she knighted him, and now we have in the place of plain Mr. Thornton, “Sir Edward;” and well he becomes the title, not that he is any different from plain Mr. Thornton, for Nature made him a nobleman in the beginning, but the Queen, with her poor eyes, could not see it until a royal sprig was a guest under his hospitable roof. After all, the Queen only loaned him a title. It is buried when Sir Edward becomes ashes. His boy will be plain Mr. Thornton, and all the better for that. Minister Thornton, like the late Sir Frederick Bruce, has a most distinguished personal presence, owing to his majestic height and graceful manners. Then he retains that exquisite purity of complexion for which the English belles are celebrated, and our American climate, so conducive to parchment and wrinkles, labors upon his handsome face in vain.

Sir John A. MacDonald is another of Her Majesty’s commissioners whose title dies with the man. Sir John’s father was a merchant in Kingston, Canada, who came to America when this son was only 6 years of age. When only 15 years old the latter left school and began the study of law. When 21 years old he was admitted to the bar; soon after he turned his attention to politics, and in 1844 was elected member for Kingston in the second parliament of United Canada. When two years and a half in Parliament he was appointed a member of the cabinet. During the time of our civil war there was agitation in regard to the dismemberment of Canada. Sir John was one of the strongest advocates for the union of the provinces. He was also a leading participant in the secularization of the church property, which dissolved the connection of church and state in Canada, and in the adjustment of the troublesome seigniorial rights. In one of his addresses he said: “The fraternal conflict now unhappily raging in the United States shows us the superiority of our institutions, and of the principle on which they are based. Long may that principle--the monarchical principle--prevail in this land. Let there be no ‘looking to Washington,’ as was threatened by a leading member of the opposition last session; but let the cry with the moderate party be: ‘Canada united as one province and under one sovereign.’”

Sir John has received his title for his devotion to the interests of the Crown, as exemplified in the various delicate duties assigned to him. In person he is above the medium height, with a regular cast of features; and he has that frank, ingenuous manner not usually conceded to such polished men of the world. Sir John is the only member of the English part of the commission who brings his wife. He tarries in the shadow of the aristocratic Arlington, but the remainder of the commission are quartered at the superb Philip mansion on K street, opposite Franklin Square, where, with a large retinue of servants, dogs and horses, the fire of an English home is kept burning. This house is one of the largest and finest private residences in Washington. The extensive drawing room has a waxed floor, relieved in sundry places by exquisitely finished velvet rugs. Pictures of English landscapes look down from the lofty walls. “I didn’t know they had such comfortable houses in this country,” said one of the royal blood. “It must have been made expressly for our use,” chimed another. It is simply an elegant American home, planned by an English-born American citizen, who, out of deference to his late countrymen, resolved that they should carry away from his adopted country something sweet and savory in the shape of pleasant recollections.

OLIVIA.

A DISSERTATION ON DRESS.

PROPER PROCEDURE FOR MEMBERS OF THE SELECT CIRCLE OF SOCIETY.

WASHINGTON, _March 18, 1871_.

In a social way the doors of the White House have closed for the season. The beginning of Lent has heretofore marked the abrupt decline of the star of Fashion, but this year the days of folly have been lengthened, in consequence of the necessity of extending hospitalities to the British part of the joint high commission. Recent receptions may be compared to autumnal flowers trying to bloom after the coming of frost. The carpets at the Executive Mansion begin to show the result of the wear and tear of a winter’s campaign, and a dingy pall seems to wrap all the other surroundings. Mrs. Grant looks weary and worn, and, though her manner is kind and engaging as ever, it is plain to see that she will be glad when this universal handshaking is over. One becomes thoroughly exhausted in vain attempt to feel satisfied with the foam and froth of Washington’s fashionable dissipations. The same envy, heart burnings and petty jealousies exist here as in monarchical courts. There may be a small quantity of genuine comfort in a modern dinner party at the capital, and yet there is room for grave doubts. Suppose you are invited to a dinner at the White House; you must remember that every rule and regulation is prescribed. When you receive your invitation you know exactly what chair you will occupy at the table. Soon after your arrival you will receive a card which will inform you which “lady” you are ordered to take to dinner. This woman sits by your side. You are obliged to be civil whether you are inclined to be or not. You are expected to say solid, substantial things after the soup. You are expected to avoid everything weak and watery after the fish. Sly and delicate humor must be sandwiched between every course. Suppose this woman, though good enough in her way, is exactly the one you would flee from if the wind was fair, and the coast clear? There are women in Washington of rare conversational powers; queenly in manners, and kind of heart; but they are scarce, and the number can be counted without using any number beyond the digits.

There is to be a fashionable crush or reception at the Cabinet minister’s home. In order to keep it within the bounds of mathematics cards of invitation have been issued. Is it possible that a Cabinet minister means to pack his house so densely? Every available inch of standing room is occupied. The stairs resemble seats in an amphitheatre, with its tier of heads, one rising above another. The lights in the showy chandeliers burn with that dim blue flame sometimes noticed in mines down deep in the earth. There is a faint, deathly odor of undying perfumes. The music sounds as though it were afar off in the heavy atmosphere. If the mansion were a prison, and the inmates therein wretches of high and low degree, could the imagination picture a more horrible situation? But let it be remembered that this medley is made up of silk, satin, lace and jewels, snowy shoulders and distinguished men. Everybody is polite and refined; wit sparkles, women laugh, and if one must be pressed to atoms, no more charming death could be devised. Did the Cabinet dame invite all these people to her hospitable mansion? Nay! Never! She scattered abroad a suitable number of invitations. Some of the people who received these cards took the liberty to ask a friend, or perhaps more; and thus it will readily be seen that if many of the invited guests take such liberties the company is doubled, and sometimes quadrupled by the license usurped by what is called “fashionable society in Washington.” The writer has known of an instance where a member of Congress and his wife received cards for a Cabinet reception. They attended, accompanied by nine guests by their own invitation. The time will come when such entertainments must be done away with. None but men of immense wealth can accept such positions unless they have the fearlessness to emulate the simple life of George S. Boutwell. And yet how can an honorable, high-minded man accept legions of civilities and never have anything to offer in return?

The social fabric of Washington is reared upon the foundation prepared for it by George and Martha Washington. It was good and excellent for those days, when the wise and prudent Martha, and the wives of the Cabinet ministers, could return the visits of their friends in a single day. More than three-quarters of a century have gone, and society after that style is ready for the sickle. Last winter the wives of the Cabinet ministers met in solemn council and decided that visits would not be returned for the reason that the sun and moon could not be made to stand still, and the days were not long enough for the hundreds of demands made upon them. The most beautiful, gifted, and accomplished woman in Washington shortened her days in order to meet the insane, exorbitant demands made upon her by the tyrant Fashion. Mrs. Belknap once said to the writer: “It would not matter so much if I omit visiting a Senator’s wife, but it would pain me exceedingly if any person thought they were neglected on account of their obscurity. If I get well, this matter must be explained, and I know the people will understand it.”

Heretofore the ladies who move in what is called Washington society, with the exception of Mrs. Grant, have been expected to return their calls. For the first time in social history, the Cabinet dames, who are a law unto themselves, have decided otherwise. In a little time the wives of the Senators will enact the same law, for they are already beginning to feel their chains, and some of the boldest assert that life is too solemn and earnest to be wasted in a giddy whirlpool of dissipation.

Among the accomplished women no longer seen upon the topmost wave of society may be mentioned Mrs. General Williams, better known as Mrs. Stephen A. Douglas, and the elegant wife of Senator Sprague. Both have known what it is to reign as “Queen of Beauty and Fashion,” and both have retired before the noon of life to the substantial comforts and enduring peace to be found only in the smooth waters of domestic life.