CHAPTER XIII.
Change of Dynasty.
The month of February was drawing to a close, when I took my passage on board the "Isabel," bound for Charleston. A small coin removed all difficulty about embarking luggage, cigars, &c.; the kettle was boiling, hands shook violently, bells rang rapidly, non-passengers flew down to shore-boats; round go the wheels, waving go the kerchiefs, and down fall the tears. The "Isabel" bounds o'er the ripp'less waters; forts and dungeons, as we gaze astern, fade from the view; an indistinct shade is all by which the eye can recal the lovely isle of Cuba; and, lest memory should fail, the piles of oranges, about four feet square, all round the upper-deck, are ready to refresh it. How different the "Isabel" from the "Cherokee!" Mr. Law might do well to take a cruise in the former; and, if he had any emulation, he would sell all his dirty old tubs for firewood, and invest the proceeds in the "Isabel" style of vessel. Land a-head!--a flourishing little village appears, with watch-towers high as minarets. What can all this mean?
This is a thriving, happy community, fixed on the most dreary and unhealthy-looking point imaginable, and deriving all their wealth and happiness from the misfortunes of others. It is Key West, a village of wreckers, who, doubtless, pray earnestly for a continuance and increase of the changing currents, which are eternally drifting some ill-fated barque on the ever-growing banks and coral reefs of these treacherous and dangerous waters; the lofty watch-towers are their Pisgah, and the stranded barques their Land of Promise. The sight of one is doubtless as refreshing to their sight as the clustering grapes of Eschol were to the wandering Israelites of old. So thoroughly does the wrecking spirit pervade this little community, that they remind one of the "Old Joe Miller," which gives an account of a clergyman who, seeing all his congregation rise from their seats at the joyous cry of, "A wreck! a wreck!" called them to order with an irresistible voice of thunder, and deliberately commencing to despoil himself of his surplice, added, "Gentlemen, a fair start, if you please!"
We picked up a couple of captains here, whose ships had tasted these bitter waters, and who were on their road to New York to try and make the best of a bad job. We had some very agreeable companions on board; but we had others very much the contrary, conspicuous among whom was an undeniable Hebrew but no Nathanael. He was one of those pompous loud talkers, whose every word and work bespoke vulgarity in its most obnoxious form, and whose obtuseness in matters of manners was so great that nothing short of the point of your shoe could have made him understand how offensive he was. He spoke of courts in Europe, and of the Vice-regal court in Ireland, as though he had the entrée of them all; which it was palpable to the most superficial observer he never could have had, except possibly when, armed with a dingy bag on his shoulder and an "Ol clo'" on his lips, he sought an investment in cast-off garments. He was taking cigars, which, from their quantity, were evidently for sale; and as the American Government is very liberal in allowing passengers to enter cigars, never—I believe—refusing any one the privilege of five hundred, he was beating up for friends who had no cigars to divide his speculations among, so as to avoid the duty; at last his arrangements were completed, and his mind at ease.
On entering the port of Charleston he got up the box containing his treasures, and was about to open it, when, to my intense delight and amusement, an officer of the ship stayed his hasty hand. "What's that for?" exclaimed the wrathful Israelite. "I guess that box is in the manifest," was the calm reply, "and you can't touch it till it goes to the custom-house." Jonathan had "done" the Hebrew; and besides the duty, he had the pleasure of paying freight on them also; while, to add to his satisfaction, he enjoyed the sight of all the other passengers taking their five hundred or so unmolested, while compelled to pay duty on every cigar himself. But we must leave the Jew, the "Isabel"—ay, Charleston itself. "Hurry hurry, bubble bubble, toil and trouble!" Washington must be reached before the 4th of March, or we shall not see the Senate and the other House in session. Steamer and rail; on we dash. The boiling horse checks his speed; the inconveniences of the journey are all forgotten: we are at Washington, and the all-absorbing thought is, "Where shall we get a bed?"
My companion[[AC]] and myself drove about from hotel to boarding-house, from boarding-house to hotel, and from hotel to the Capitol, seeking a resting-place in vain. Every chink and cranny was crammed; the reading-rooms of the hotels had from one to two dozen stretcher beds in each of them. 'Twas getting on for midnight; Hope's taper was flickering faintly, when a police-officer came to the rescue, and recommended us to try a small boarding-house at which he was himself lodging. There, as an especial favour, we got two beds put into a room where another lodger was already snoring; but fatigue and sleep soon obliterated that fact from our remembrance. Next morning, while lying in a half doze, I heard something like the upsetting of a jug near my bedside, and then, a sound like mopping up; suspicious of my company, I opened my eyes, and lo! there was the owner of the third bed, deliberately mopping up the contents of the jug he had upset over the carpet, with—what do you think? His handkerchief? oh, no—his coat-tails? oh, no—a spare towel? oh, no; the savage, with the most placid indifference, was mopping it up with my sponge! He expressed so much astonishment when I remonstrated, that I supposed the poor man must have been in the habit of using his own sponge for such purposes, and my ire subsided gradually as he wrung out the sponge by an endless succession of vigorous squeezes, accompanying each with a word of apology. So much for my first night at Washington.
We will pass over breakfast, and away to the Capitol. There it stands, on a rising knoll, commanding an extensive panoramic view of the town and surrounding country. The building is on a grand scale, and faced with marble, which, glittering in the sunbeams, gives it a very imposing appearance; but the increasing wants of this increasing Republic have caused two wings to be added, which are now in the course of construction. Entrance to the Senate and House of Representatives was afforded to us with that readiness and courtesy which strangers invariably experience. But, alas! the mighty spirits who had, by their power of eloquence, so often charmed and spell-bound the tenants of the senate chamber—where were they? The grave had but recently closed over the last of those giant spirits; Webster was no more! Like all similar bodies, they put off and put off, till, in the last few days of the session, a quantity of business is hustled through, and thus no scope is left for eloquent speeches; all is matter of fact, and a very business-looking body they appeared, each senator with his desk and papers before him; and when anything was to be said, it was expressed in plain, unadorned language, and free from hesitation. The only opportunity offered for eloquence was, after the inauguration, on the discussion of the Clayton-Bulwer Treaty. I will not say that the venerable senator for Delaware—Mr. Clayton—was eloquent, but he was very clear both in language and delivery, and his bearing altogether showed the honest conviction of a man who knew he was in the right, and was certain he would be ultimately so judged. His principal antagonist was the senator for Illinois—Mr. Douglas—one of the stars of the Young American party, and an aspirant to the presidential honours of the Republic. He is a stout-built man, rather short, with a massive overhanging forehead. When he rose, he did so with the evident consciousness that the gallery above him was filled with many of his political school, and thrusting both hands well into the bottom of his breeches pockets, he commenced his oration with an air of great self-confidence, occasionally drawing one hand from its concealment to aid his oratory by significant gesture. He made an excellent clap-trap—or, as they term it in America, Buncombe—speech, aiding and emphasizing, by energetic shakings of the forefinger, such passages as he thought would tell in the gallery above; his voice was loud and clear, his language blunt and fluent, and amusingly replete with "dares and daren't;" "England's in the wrong, and she knows it;" if the original treaty, by which America was to have had the canal exclusively, had been concluded, "America would have had a rod to hold over all the nations." Then came "manifest destiny;" then the mare's nest called "Monroe doctrine;" then more Buncombe about England; and then ... he sat down—satisfied, no doubt, that he had very considerably increased his chances for the "tenancy of the White House."
I regretted much not being able to hear Mr. Everett speak, for I believe he is admitted on all hands to be the most eloquent and classical orator within the precincts of the senate at the present moment; but I was obliged to leave Washington before he addressed the assembly. The absence of all signs of approbation or disapprobation, while a senator is addressing the House, gives a coldness to the debate, and I should think must have a damping effect upon the enthusiasm of the speaker. The "Hear hears" and "cheers" of friends, and the "Oh ohs" or "laughter" of opponents, certainly give an air of much greater excitement to the scene, and act as an encouragement to the orator. But such exclamations are not allowed either in the Senate or the House of Representatives. The chamber of the latter is of course much larger than that of the Senators, and, as far as I can judge, a bad room to hear in. When the new wings are finished, they will move into one of them, and their present chamber is, I believe, to be a library. I had no opportunity of hearing any of the oratory of this house, as they were merely hustling a few money and minor bills through, previous to the inauguration, which closed their session. They also have each a desk and chair; but with their increasing numbers I fear that any room large enough to afford them such accommodation must be bad for speaking in.—Let us now turn to the great event of the day, i.e., the Inauguration.