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North America — Volume 2

by Anthony Trollope · English · Gutenberg #1866 · 879,341 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: North America — Volume 2

Author: Anthony Trollope


        
Release date: August 1, 1999 [eBook #1866]
                Most recently updated: February 18, 2013

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1866

Credits: E-text prepared by Donald Lainson and revised by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D.


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK NORTH AMERICA — VOLUME 2 ***


E-text prepared by Donald Lainson and revised by Joseph E. Loewenstein,
M.D.



Editorial note:

      Anthony Trollope travelled through the United States from
      August, 1861, to May, 1862. He visited all the states that
      did not secede except California. This book is partly a
      journal of his travels and partly his description of American
      customs and culture including industry, education, government,
      military affairs, religion, transportation, and even
      hotels. To an American of today it provides a revealing and
      fascinating picture of life at the time.

      The book was first published in two volumes by Chapman & Hall
      in 1862.


      Project Gutenberg has the other volume of this work.
      Volume I: see https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1865





NORTH AMERICA

by

ANTHONY TROLLOPE

In Two Volumes

VOL. II




CONTENTS

            I. WASHINGTON.
           II. CONGRESS.
          III. THE CAUSES OF THE WAR.
           IV. WASHINGTON TO ST. LOUIS.
            V. MISSOURI.
           VI. CAIRO AND CAMP WOOD.
          VII. THE ARMY OF THE NORTH.
         VIII. BACK TO BOSTON.
           IX. THE CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES.
            X. THE GOVERNMENT.
           XI. THE LAW COURTS AND LAWYERS OF THE UNITED STATES.
          XII. THE FINANCIAL POSITION.
         XIII. THE POST-OFFICE.
          XIV. AMERICAN HOTELS.
           XV. LITERATURE.
          XVI. CONCLUSION.
   APPENDIX A. DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE.
   APPENDIX B. ARTICLES OF CONFEDERATION, ETC.
   APPENDIX C. CONSTITUTION OF THE UNITED STATES.




CHAPTER I.

WASHINGTON.


The site of the present city of Washington was chosen with three
special views; firstly, that being on the Potomac it might have the
full advantage of water-carriage and a sea-port; secondly, that
it might be so far removed from the seaboard as to be safe from
invasion; and, thirdly, that it might be central alike to all the
States. It was presumed when Washington was founded that these three
advantages would be secured by the selected position. As regards the
first, the Potomac affords to the city but few of the advantages
of a sea-port. Ships can come up, but not ships of large burthen.
The river seems to have dwindled since the site was chosen; and at
present it is, I think, evident that Washington can never be great in
its shipping. _Statio benefida carinis_ can never be its motto. As
regards the second point, singularly enough Washington is the only
city of the Union that has been in an enemy's possession since the
United States became a nation. In the war of 1812 it fell into our
hands, and we burnt it. As regards the third point, Washington, from
the lie of the land, can hardly have been said to be centrical at
any time. Owing to the irregularities of the coast it is not easy of
access by railways from different sides. Baltimore would have been
far better. But as far as we can now see, and as well as we can now
judge, Washington will soon be on the borders of the nation to which
it belongs, instead of at its centre. I fear, therefore, that we must
acknowledge that the site chosen for his country's capital by George
Washington has not been fortunate.

I have a strong idea, which I expressed before in speaking of the
capital of the Canadas, that no man can ordain that on such a spot
shall be built a great and thriving city. No man can so ordain even
though he leave behind him, as was the case with Washington, a
prestige sufficient to bind his successors to his wishes. The
political leaders of the country have done what they could for
Washington. The pride of the nation has endeavoured to sustain
the character of its chosen metropolis. There has been no rival,
soliciting favour on the strength of other charms. The country has
all been agreed on the point since the father of the country first
commenced the work. Florence and Rome in Italy have each their
pretensions; but in the States no other city has put itself forward
for the honour of entertaining Congress. And yet Washington has been
a failure. It is commerce that makes great cities, and commerce has
refused to back the General's choice. New York and Philadelphia,
without any political power, have become great among the cities of
the earth. They are beaten by none except by London and Paris. But
Washington is but a ragged, unfinished collection of unbuilt broad
streets, as to the completion of which there can now, I imagine, be
but little hope.

Of all places that I know it is the most ungainly and most
unsatisfactory;--I fear I must also say the most presumptuous in its
pretensions. There is a map of Washington accurately laid down; and
taking that map with him in his journeyings a man may lose himself in
the streets, not as one loses oneself in London between Shoreditch
and Russell Square, but as one does so in the deserts of the Holy
Land, between Emmaus and Arimathea. In the first place no one knows
where the places are, or is sure of their existence, and then between
their presumed localities the country is wild, trackless, unbridged,
uninhabited, and desolate. Massachusetts Avenue runs the whole length
of the city, and is inserted on the maps as a full-blown street,
about four miles in length. Go there, and you will find yourself not
only out of town, away among the fields, but you will find yourself
beyond the fields, in an uncultivated, undrained wilderness. Tucking
your trousers up to your knees you will wade through the bogs, you
will lose yourself among rude hillocks, you will be out of the reach
of humanity. The unfinished dome of the Capitol will loom before you
in the distance, and you will think that you approach the ruins of
some western Palmyra. If you are a sportsman, you will desire to
shoot snipe within sight of the President's house. There is much
unsettled land within the States of America, but I think none so
desolate in its state of nature as three-fourths of the ground on
which is supposed to stand the city of Washington.

The city of Washington is something more than four miles long, and
is something more than two miles broad. The land apportioned to it
is nearly as compact as may be, and it exceeds in area the size
of a parallelogram four miles long by two broad. These dimensions
are adequate for a noble city, for a city to contain a million of
inhabitants. It is impossible to state with accuracy the actual
population of Washington, for it fluctuates exceedingly. The place
is very full during Congress, and very empty during the recess.
By which I mean it to be understood that those streets, which
are blessed with houses, are full when Congress meets. I do not
think that Congress makes much difference to Massachusetts Avenue.
I believe that the city never contains as many as eighty thousand,
and that its permanent residents are less than sixty thousand.

But, it will be said,--was it not well to prepare for a growing city?
Is it not true that London is choked by its own fatness, not having
been endowed at its birth or during its growth, with proper means for
accommodating its own increasing proportions? Was it not well to lay
down fine avenues and broad streets, so that future citizens might
find a city well prepared to their hand?

There is no doubt much in such an argument, but its correctness must
be tested by its success. When a man marries it is well that he
should make provision for a coming family. But a Benedict, who early
in his career shall have carried his friends with considerable
self-applause through half-a-dozen nurseries and at the end of twelve
years shall still be the father of one ricketty baby, will incur a
certain amount of ridicule. It is very well to be prepared for good
fortune, but one should limit one's preparation within a reasonable
scope. Two miles by one might perhaps have done for the skeleton
sketch of a new city. Less than half that would contain much more
than the present population of Washington; and there are, I fear, few
towns in the Union so little likely to enjoy any speedy increase.

Three avenues sweep the whole length of Washington;--Virginia Avenue,
Pennsylvania Avenue, and Massachusetts Avenue. But Pennsylvania
Avenue is the only one known to ordinary men, and the half of that
only is so known. This avenue is the backbone of the city, and those
streets which are really inhabited cluster round that half of it
which runs westward from the Capitol. The eastern end, running from
the front of the Capitol, is again a desert. The plan of the city is
somewhat complicated. It may truly be called "a mighty maze, but not
without a plan." The Capitol was intended to be the centre of the
city. It faces eastward, away from the Potomac,--or rather from the
main branch of the Potomac, and also unfortunately from the main body
of the town. It turns its back upon the chief thoroughfare, upon the
Treasury buildings, and upon the President's house; and indeed upon
the whole place. It was, I suppose, intended that the streets to the
eastward should be noble and populous, but hitherto they have come
to nothing. The building therefore is wrong side foremost, and all
mankind who enter it, senators, representatives, and judges included,
go in at the back-door. Of course it is generally known that in
the Capitol is the Chamber of the Senate, that of the House of
Representatives, and the Supreme Judicial Court of the Union. It may
be said that there are two centres in Washington, this being one and
the President's house the other. At these centres the main avenues
are supposed to cross each other, which avenues are called by the
names of the respective States. At the Capitol, Pennsylvania Avenue,
New Jersey Avenue, Delaware Avenue, and Maryland Avenue converge.
They come from one extremity of the city to the square of the Capitol
on one side, and run out from the other side of it to the other
extremity of the city. Pennsylvania Avenue, New York Avenue, Vermont
Avenue, and Connecticut Avenue do the same at what is generally
called President's Square. In theory, or on paper, this seems to be a
clear and intelligible arrangement; but it does not work well. These
centre depots are large spaces, and consequently one portion of a
street is removed a considerable distance from the other. It is as
though the same name should be given to two streets, one of which
entered St. James's Park at Buckingham Gate, while the other started
from the Park at Marlborough House. To inhabitants the matter
probably is not of much moment, as it is well known that this portion
of such an avenue and that portion of such another avenue are merely
myths,--unknown lands away in the wilds. But a stranger finds himself
in the position of being sent across the country knee-deep into the
mud, wading through snipe grounds, looking for civilization where
none exists.

All these avenues have a slanting direction. They are so arranged
that none of them run north and south or east and west; but the
streets, so called, all run in accordance with the points of the
compass. Those from east to west are A Street, B Street, C Street,
and so on,--counting them away from the Capitol on each side, so that
there are two A streets and two B streets. On the map these streets
run up to V Street, both right and left,--V Street North and V Street
South. Those really known to mankind are E, F, G, H, I, and K Streets
North. Then those streets which run from north to south are numbered
First Street, Second Street, Third Street, and so on, on each front
of the Capitol, running to Twenty-fourth or Twenty-fifth Street on
each side. Not very many of these have any existence, or I might
perhaps more properly say, any vitality in their existence.

Such is the plan of the city, that being the arrangement and those
the dimensions intended by the original architects and founders of
Washington; but the inhabitants have hitherto confined themselves to
Pennsylvania Avenue West, and to the streets abutting from it or near
to it. Whatever address a stranger may receive, however perplexing
it may seem to him, he may be sure that the house indicated is near
Pennsylvania Avenue. If it be not, I should recommend him to pay no
attention to the summons. Even in those streets with which he will
become best acquainted, the houses are not continuous. There will be
a house, and then a blank; then two houses, and then a double blank.
After that a hut or two, and then probably an excellent, roomy,
handsome family mansion. Taken altogether, Washington as a city is
most unsatisfactory, and falls more grievously short of the thing
attempted than any other of the great undertakings of which I have
seen anything in the States. San Jose, the capital of the republic of
Costa Rica, in Central America, has been prepared and arranged as a
new city in the same way. But even San Jose comes nearer to what was
intended than does Washington.

For myself, I do not believe in cities made after this fashion.
Commerce, I think, must select the site of all large congregations of
mankind. In some mysterious way she ascertains what she wants, and
having acquired that, draws men in thousands round her properties.
Liverpool, New York, Lyons, Glasgow, Venice, Marseilles, Hamburg,
Calcutta, Chicago, and Leghorn, have all become populous, and are or
have been great, because trade found them to be convenient for its
purposes. Trade seems to have ignored Washington altogether. Such
being the case, the Legislature and the Executive of the country
together have been unable to make of Washington anything better than
a straggling congregation of buildings in a wilderness. We are now
trying the same experiment at Ottawa, in Canada, having turned our
back upon Montreal in dudgeon. The site of Ottawa is more interesting
than that of Washington, but I doubt whether the experiment will be
more successful. A new town for art, fashion, and politics has been
built at Munich, and there it seems to answer the expectation of the
builders; but at Munich there is an old city as well, and commerce
had already got some considerable hold on the spot before the new
town was added to it.

The streets of Washington, such as exist, are all broad. Throughout
the town there are open spaces,--spaces, I mean, intended to be open
by the plan laid down for the city. At the present moment it is
almost all open space. There is also a certain nobility about the
proposed dimensions of the avenues and squares. Desirous of praising
it in some degree, I can say that the design is grand. The thing
done, however, falls so infinitely short of that design, that nothing
but disappointment is felt. And I fear that there is no look-out
into the future which can justify a hope that the design will be
fulfilled. It is therefore a melancholy place. The society into which
one falls there consists mostly of persons who are not permanently
resident in the capital; but of those who were permanent residents I
found none who spoke of their city with affection. The men and women
of Boston think that the sun shines nowhere else;--and Boston Common
is very pleasant. The New Yorkers believe in Fifth Avenue with an
unswerving faith; and Fifth Avenue is calculated to inspire a faith.
Philadelphia to a Philadelphian is the centre of the universe, and
the progress of Philadelphia, perhaps, justifies the partiality. The
same thing may be said of Chicago, of Buffalo, and of Baltimore. But
the same thing cannot be said in any degree of Washington. They who
belong to it turn up their noses at it. They feel that they live
surrounded by a failure. Its grand names are as yet false, and none
of the efforts made have hitherto been successful. Even in winter,
when Congress is sitting, Washington is melancholy;--but Washington
in summer must surely be the saddest spot on earth.

There are six principal public buildings in Washington, as to which
no expense seems to have been spared, and in the construction of
which a certain amount of success has been obtained. In most of these
this success has been more or less marred by an independent deviation
from recognized rules of architectural taste. These are the Capitol,
the Post-office, the Patent-office, the Treasury, the President's
house, and the Smithsonian Institute. The five first are Grecian,
and the last in Washington is called--Romanesque. Had I been left to
classify it by my own unaided lights, I should have called it bastard
Gothic.

The Capitol is by far the most imposing; and though there is much
about it with which I cannot but find fault, it certainly is
imposing. The present building was, I think, commenced in 1815, the
former Capitol having been destroyed by the English in the war of
1812-13. It was then finished according to the original plan, with a
fine portico and well-proportioned pediment above it,--looking to the
east. The outer flight of steps, leading up to this from the eastern
approach, is good and in excellent taste. The expanse of the building
to the right and left, as then arranged, was well proportioned,
and, as far as we can now judge, the then existing dome was well
proportioned also. As seen from the east the original building
must have been in itself very fine. The stone is beautiful, being
bright almost as marble, and I do not know that there was any great
architectural defect to offend the eye. The figures in the pediment
are mean. There is now in the Capitol a group apparently prepared for
a pediment, which is by no means mean. I was informed that they were
intended for this position; but they, on the other hand, are too good
for such a place, and are also too numerous. This set of statues
is by Crawford. Most of them are well known, and they are very
fine. They now stand within the old chamber of the Representative
House, and the pity is, that if elevated to such a position as that
indicated, they can never be really seen. There are models of them
all at West Point, and some of them I have seen at other places in
marble. The Historical Society at New York has one or two of them.
In and about the front of the Capitol there are other efforts of
sculpture,--imposing in their size, and assuming, if not affecting,
much in the attitudes chosen. Statuary at Washington runs too much on
two subjects, which are repeated perhaps almost ad nauseam; one is
that of a stiff, steady-looking, healthy, but ugly individual, with
a square jaw and big jowl, which represents the great General; he
does not prepossess the beholder, because he appears to be thoroughly
ill-natured. And the other represents a melancholy, weak figure
without any hair, but often covered with feathers, and is intended
to typify the red Indian. The red Indian is generally supposed to
be receiving comfort; but it is manifest that he never enjoys the
comfort ministered to him. There is a gigantic statue of Washington,
by Greenough, out in the grounds in front of the building. The figure
is seated and holding up one of its arms towards the city. There is
about it a kind of weighty magnificence; but it is stiff, ungainly,
and altogether without life.

But the front of the original building is certainly grand. The
architect who designed it must have had skill, taste, and nobility of
conception; but even this was spoilt, or rather wasted, by the fact
that the front is made to look upon nothing, and is turned from the
city. It is as though the _façade_ of the London Post-office had been
made to face the Goldsmiths' Hall. The Capitol stands upon the side
of a hill, the front occupying a much higher position than the back;
consequently they who enter it from the back--and everybody does so
enter it--are first called on to rise to the level of the lower floor
by a stiff ascent of exterior steps, which are in no way grand or
imposing, and then, having entered by a mean back-door, are instantly
obliged to ascend again by another flight,--by stairs sufficiently
appropriate to a back entrance, but altogether unfitted for the chief
approach to such a building. It may, of course, be said that persons
who are particular in such matters should go in at the front door and
not at the back; but one must take these things as one finds them.
The entrance by which the Capitol is approached is such as I have
described. There are mean little brick chimneys at the left hand as
one walks in, attached to modern bakeries which have been constructed
in the basement for the use of the soldiers; and there is on
the other hand the road by which waggons find their way to the
underground region with fuel, stationery, and other matters desired
by senators and representatives,--and at present by bakers also.

In speaking of the front I have spoken of it as it was originally
designed and built. Since that period very heavy wings have been
added to the pile;--wings so heavy that they are or seem to be much
larger than the original structure itself. This, to my thinking, has
destroyed the symmetry of the whole. The wings, which in themselves
are by no means devoid of beauty, are joined to the centre by
passages so narrow that from exterior points of view the light can be
seen through them. This robs the mass of all oneness, of all entirety
as a whole, and gives a scattered straggling appearance where there
should be a look of massiveness and integrity. The dome also has been
raised, a double drum having been given to it. This is unfinished
and should not therefore yet be judged; but I cannot think that the
increased height will be an improvement. This again, to my eyes,
appears to be straggling rather than massive. At a distance it
commands attention, and to one journeying through the desert places
of the city gives that idea of Palmyra which I have before mentioned.

Nevertheless, and in spite of all that I have said, I have had
pleasure in walking backwards and forwards, and through the grounds
which lie before the eastern front of the Capitol. The space for the
view is ample, and the thing to be seen has points which are very
grand. If the Capitol were finished and all Washington were built
around it, no man would say that the house in which Congress sat
disgraced the city.

Going west, but not due west, from the Capitol, Pennsylvania Avenue
stretches in a right line to the Treasury Chambers. The distance is
beyond a mile, and men say, scornfully, that the two buildings have
been put so far apart in order to save the Secretaries who sit in
the bureaux from a too rapid influx of members of Congress. This
statement I by no means indorse; but it is undoubtedly the fact that
both senators and representatives are very diligent in their calls
upon gentlemen high in office. I have been present on some such
occasions, and it has always seemed to me that questions of patronage
have been paramount. This reach of Pennsylvania Avenue is the quarter
for the best shops of Washington,--that is to say, the frequented
side of it is so,--that side which is on your right as you leave the
Capitol. Of the other side the world knows nothing. And very bad
shops they are. I doubt whether there be any town in the world at all
equal in importance to Washington, which is in such respects so ill
provided. The shops are bad and dear. In saying this I am guided by
the opinions of all whom I heard speak on the subject. The same thing
was told me of the hotels. Hearing that the city was very full at the
time of my visit--full to overflowing--I had obtained private rooms
through a friend before I went there. Had I not done so, I might have
lain in the streets, or have made one with three or four others in a
small room at some third-rate inn. There had never been so great a
throng in the town. I am bound to say that my friend did well for me.
I found myself put up at the house of one Wormley, a coloured man, in
I Street, to whose attention I can recommend any Englishman who may
chance to want quarters in Washington. He has an hotel on one side of
the street, and private lodging-houses on the other in which I found
myself located. From what I heard of the hotels I conceived myself
to be greatly in luck. Willard's is the chief of these, and the
everlasting crowd and throng of men with which the halls and passages
of the house were always full, certainly did not seem to promise
either privacy or comfort. But then there are places in which
privacy and comfort are not expected,--are hardly even desired,--and
Washington is one of them.

The Post-office and the Patent-office lie a little away from
Pennsylvania Avenue in F Street, and are opposite to each other. The
Post-office is certainly a very graceful building. It is square, and
hardly can be said to have any settled front or any grand entrance.
It is not approached by steps, but stands flush on the ground,
alike on each of the four sides. It is ornamented with Corinthian
pilasters, but is not over ornamented. It is certainly a structure
creditable to any city. The streets around it are all unfinished, and
it is approached through seas of mud and sloughs of despond, which
have been contrived, as I imagine, to lessen, if possible, the
crowd of callers, and lighten in this way the overtasked officials
within. That side by which the public in general were supposed to
approach was, during my sojourn, always guarded by vast mountains of
flour-barrels. Looking up at the windows of the building I perceived
also that barrels were piled within, and then I knew that the
Post-office had become a provision depot for the army. The official
arrangements here for the public were so bad as to be absolutely
barbarous. I feel some remorse in saying this, for I was myself
treated with the utmost courtesy by gentlemen holding high positions
in the office,--to which I was specially attracted by my own
connection with the Post-office in England. But I do not think that
such courtesy should hinder me from telling what I saw that was
bad,--seeing that it would not hinder me from telling what I saw that
was good. In Washington there is but one Post-office. There are no
iron pillars or wayside letter-boxes, as are to be found in other
towns of the Union;--no subsidiary offices at which stamps can be
bought and letters posted. The distances of the city are very great,
the means of transit through the city very limited, the dirt of the
city ways unrivalled in depth and tenacity; and yet there is but one
Post-office. Nor is there any established system of letter-carriers.
To those who desire it, letters are brought out and delivered by
carriers who charge a separate porterage for that service; but
the rule is that letters shall be delivered from the window. For
strangers this is of course a necessity of their position; and I
found that when once I had left instructions that my letters should
be delivered, those instructions were carefully followed. Indeed
nothing could exceed the civility of the officials within;--but so
also nothing can exceed the barbarity of the arrangements without.
The purchase of stamps I found to be utterly impracticable. They
were sold at a window in a corner, at which newspapers were also
delivered, to which there was no regular ingress, and from which
there was no egress. It would generally be deeply surrounded by a
crowd of muddy soldiers, who would wait there patiently till time
should enable them to approach the window. The delivery of letters
was almost more tedious, though in that there was a method. The
aspirants stood in a long line, _en cue_, as we are told by Carlyle
that the bread-seekers used to approach the bakers' shops at Paris
during the Revolution. This "cue" would sometimes project out into
the street. The work inside was done very slowly. The clerk had no
facility, by use of a desk or otherwise, for running through the
letters under the initials denominated, but turned letter by letter
through his hand. To one questioner out of ten would a letter
be given. It no doubt may be said in excuse for this that the
presence of the army round Washington caused at that period special
inconvenience; and that plea should of course be taken, were it
not that a very trifling alteration in the management within would
have remedied all the inconvenience. As a building the Washington
Post-office is very good; as the centre of a most complicated and
difficult department, I believe it to be well managed: but as regards
the special accommodation given by it to the city in which it stands,
much cannot, I think, be said in its favour.

Opposite to that which is, I presume, the back of the Post-office,
stands the Patent-office. This also is a grand building, with a fine
portico of Doric pillars at each of its three fronts. These are
approached by flights of steps, more gratifying to the eye than to
the legs. The whole structure is massive and grand, and, if the
streets round it were finished, would be imposing. The utilitarian
spirit of the nation has, however, done much toward marring the
appearance of the building, by piercing it with windows altogether
unsuited to it, both in number and size. The walls, even under the
porticoes, have been so pierced, in order that the whole space might
be utilized without loss of light; and the effect is very mean. The
windows are small and without ornament,--something like a London
window of the time of George III. The effect produced by a dozen such
at the back of a noble Doric porch, looking down among the pillars,
may be imagined.

In the interior of this building the Minister of the Interior holds
his court, and of course also the Commissioners of Patents. Here is,
in accordance with the name of the building, a museum of models of
all patents taken out. I wandered through it, gazing with listless
eye, now upon this, and now upon that; but to me, in my ignorance,
it was no better than a large toy-shop. When I saw an ancient
dusty white hat, with some peculiar appendage to it which was
unintelligible, it was no more to me than any other old white hat.
But had I been a man of science, what a tale it might have told!
Wandering about through the Patent-office I also found a hospital for
soldiers. A British officer was with me who pronounced it to be, in
its kind, very good. At any rate it was sweet, airy, and large. In
these days the soldiers had got hold of everything.

The Treasury Chambers is as yet an unfinished building. The front
to the south has been completed; but that to the north has not been
built. Here at the north stands as yet the old Secretary of State's
office. This is to come down, and the Secretary of State is to be
located in the new building, which will be added to the Treasury.
This edifice will probably strike strangers more forcibly than any
other in the town, both from its position and from its own character.
It stands with its side to Pennsylvania Avenue, but the avenue here
has turned round, and runs due north and south, having taken a twist,
so as to make way for the Treasury and for the President's house,
through both of which it must run had it been carried straight on
throughout. These public offices stand with their side to the street,
and the whole length is ornamented with an exterior row of Ionic
columns raised high above the footway. This is perhaps the prettiest
thing in the city, and when the front to the north has been
completed, the effect will be still better. The granite monoliths
which have been used, and which are to be used, in this building are
very massive. As one enters by the steps to the south there are two
flat stones, one on each side of the ascent, the surface of each
of which is about 20 feet by 18. The columns are, I think, all
monoliths. Of those which are still to be erected, and which now lie
about in the neighbouring streets, I measured one or two--one which
was still in the rough I found to be 32 feet long by 5 feet broad,
and 4½ deep. These granite blocks have been brought to Washington
from the State of Maine. The finished front of this building, looking
down to the Potomac, is very good; but to my eyes this also has been
much injured by the rows of windows which look out from the building
into the space of the portico.

The President's house--or the White House as it is now called all the
world over--is a handsome mansion fitted for the chief officer of
a great Republic, and nothing more. I think I may say that we have
private houses in London considerably larger. It is neat and pretty,
and with all its immediate outside belongings calls down no adverse
criticism. It faces on to a small garden, which seems to be always
accessible to the public, and opens out upon that everlasting
Pennsylvania Avenue, which has now made another turn. Here in front
of the White House is President's Square, as it is generally called.
The technical name is, I believe, La Fayette Square. The houses round
it are few in number,--not exceeding three or four on each side, but
they are among the best in Washington, and the whole place is neat
and well kept. President's Square is certainly the most attractive
part of the city. The garden of the square is always open, and does
not seem to suffer from any public ill-usage; by which circumstance
I am again led to suggest that the gardens of our London squares
might be thrown open in the same way. In the centre of this one
at Washington, immediately facing the President's house, is an
equestrian statue of General Jackson. It is very bad; but that it
is not nearly as bad as it might be is proved by another equestrian
statue,--of General Washington,--erected in the centre of a small
garden-plat at the end of Pennsylvania Avenue, near the bridge
leading to Georgetown. Of all the statues on horseback which I ever
saw, either in marble or bronze, this is by far the worst and most
ridiculous. The horse is most absurd, but the man sitting on the
horse is manifestly drunk. I should think the time must come when
this figure at any rate will be removed.

I did not go inside the President's house, not having had while
at Washington an opportunity of paying my personal respects to Mr.
Lincoln. I had been told that this was to be done without trouble,
but when I inquired on the subject I found that this was not exactly
the case. I believe there are times when anybody may walk into the
President's house without an introduction; but that, I take it, is
not considered to be the proper way of doing the work. I found that
something like a favour would be incurred, or that some disagreeable
trouble would be given, if I made a request to be presented,--and
therefore I left Washington without seeing the great man.

The President's house is nice to look at, but it is built on marshy
ground, not much above the level of the Potomac, and is very
unhealthy. I was told that all who live there become subject to fever
and ague, and that few who now live there have escaped it altogether.
This comes of choosing the site of a new city, and decreeing that it
shall be built on this or on that spot. Large cities, especially in
these latter days, do not collect themselves in unhealthy places. Men
desert such localities,--or at least do not congregate at them when
their character is once known. But the poor President cannot desert
the White House. He must make the most of the residence which the
nation has prepared for him.

Of the other considerable public building of Washington, called the
Smithsonian Institution, I have said that its style was bastard
Gothic; by this I mean that its main attributes are Gothic, but that
liberties have been taken with it, which, whether they may injure its
beauty or no, certainly are subversive of architectural purity. It is
built of red stone, and is not ugly in itself. There is a very nice
Norman porch to it, and little bits of Lombard Gothic have been well
copied from Cologne. But windows have been fitted in with stilted
arches, of which the stilts seem to crack and bend, so narrow are
they and so high. And then the towers with high pinnacled roofs are a
mistake,--unless indeed they be needed to give to the whole structure
that name of Romanesque which it has assumed. The building is used
for museums and lectures, and was given to the city by one James
Smithson, an Englishman. I cannot say that the city of Washington
seems to be grateful, for all to whom I spoke on the subject hinted
that the Institution was a failure. It is to be remarked that nobody
in Washington is proud of Washington, or of anything in it. If the
Smithsonian Institution were at New York or at Boston, one would have
a different story to tell.

There has been an attempt made to raise at Washington a vast obelisk
to the memory of Washington,--the first in war and first in peace,
as the country is proud to call him. This obelisk is a fair type
of the city. It is unfinished,--not a third of it having as yet
been erected,--and in all human probability ever will remain so. If
finished it would be the highest monument of its kind standing on the
face of the globe,--and yet, after all, what would it be even then as
compared with one of the great pyramids? Modern attempts cannot bear
comparison with those of the old world in simple vastness. But in
lieu of simple vastness, the modern world aims to achieve either
beauty or utility. By the Washington monument, if completed, neither
would be achieved. An obelisk with the proportions of a needle
may be very graceful; but an obelisk which requires an expanse of
flat-roofed, sprawling buildings for its base, and of which the shaft
shall be as big as a cathedral tower, cannot be graceful. At present
some third portion of the shaft has been built, and there it stands.
No one has a word to say for it. No one thinks that money will ever
again be subscribed for its completion. I saw somewhere a box of
plate-glass kept for contributions for this purpose, and looking in
perceived that two half-dollar pieces had been given;--but both of
them were bad. I was told also that the absolute foundation of the
edifice is bad;--that the ground, which is near the river and swampy,
would not bear the weight intended to be imposed on it.

A sad and saddening spot was that marsh, as I wandered down on it all
alone one Sunday afternoon. The ground was frozen and I could walk
dry-shod, but there was not a blade of grass. Around me on all sides
were cattle in great numbers--steers and big oxen--lowing in their
hunger for a meal. They were beef for the army, and never again I
suppose would it be allowed to them to fill their big maws and chew
the patient cud. There, on the brown, ugly, undrained field, within
easy sight of the President's house, stood the useless, shapeless,
graceless pile of stones. It was as though I were looking on the
genius of the city. It was vast, pretentious, bold, boastful with a
loud voice, already taller by many heads than other obelisks, but
nevertheless still in its infancy,--ugly, unpromising, and false. The
founder of the monument had said, Here shall be the obelisk of the
world! and the founder of the city had thought of his child somewhat
in the same strain. It is still possible that both city and monument
shall be completed; but at the present moment nobody seems to believe
in the one or in the other. For myself I have much faith in the
American character, but I cannot believe either in Washington city or
in the Washington monument. The boast made has been too loud, and the
fulfilment yet accomplished has been too small!

Have I as yet said that Washington was dirty in that winter of
1861-1862? Or, I should rather ask, have I made it understood that
in walking about Washington one waded as deep in mud as one does in
floundering through an ordinary ploughed field in November? There
were parts of Pennsylvania Avenue which would have been considered
heavy ground by most hunting-men, and through some of the remoter
streets none but light weights could have lived long. This was the
state of the town when I left it in the middle of January. On my
arrival in the middle of December, everything was in a cloud of
dust. One walked through an atmosphere of floating mud; for the dirt
was ponderous and thick, and very palpable in its atoms. Then came
a severe frost and a little snow; and if one did not fall while
walking, it was very well. After that we had the thaw; and Washington
assumed its normal winter condition. I must say that, during the
whole of this time, the atmosphere was to me exhilarating; but I was
hardly out of the doctor's hands while I was there, and he did not
support my theory as to the goodness of the air. "It is poisoned by
the soldiers," he said, "and everybody is ill." But then my doctor
was perhaps a little tinged with southern proclivities.

On the Virginian side of the Potomac stands a country-house called
Arlington Heights, from which there is a fine view down upon the
city. Arlington Heights is a beautiful spot,--having all the
attractions of a fine park in our country. It is covered with grand
timber. The ground is varied and broken, and the private roads about
sweep here into a dell and then up a brae-side, as roads should do in
such a domain. Below it was the Potomac, and immediately on the other
side stands the city of Washington. Any city seen thus is graceful;
and the white stones of the big buildings when the sun gleams on
them, showing the distant rows of columns, seem to tell something of
great endeavour and of achieved success. It is the place from whence
Washington should be seen by those who wish to think well of the
present city and of its future prosperity. But is it not the case
that every city is beautiful from a distance?

The house at Arlington Heights is picturesque, but neither large
nor good. It has before it a high Greek colonnade, which seems to
be almost bigger than the house itself. Had such been built in a
city,--and many such a portico does stand in cities through the
States,--it would be neither picturesque nor graceful; but here it is
surrounded by timber, and as the columns are seen through the trees,
they gratify the eye rather than offend it. The place did belong,
and as I think does still belong, to the family of the Lees,--if not
already confiscated. General Lee, who is or would be the present
owner, bears high command in the army of the Confederalists, and
knows well by what tenure he holds, or is likely to hold, his family
property. The family were friends of General Washington, whose seat,
Mount Vernon, stands about twelve miles lower down the river; and
here, no doubt, Washington often stood, looking on the site he had
chosen. If his spirit could stand there now and look around upon the
masses of soldiers by which his capital is surrounded, how would it
address the city of his hopes? When he saw that every foot of the
neighbouring soil was desecrated by a camp, or torn into loathsome
furrows of mud by cannon and army waggons,--that agriculture was
gone, and that every effort both of North and South was concentrated
on the art of killing; when he saw that this was done on the very
spot chosen by himself for the centre temple of an everlasting union,
what would he then say as to that boast made on his behalf by his
countrymen that he was first in war and first in peace? Washington
was a great man, and I believe a good man. I, at any rate, will not
belittle him. I think that he had the firmness and audacity necessary
for a revolutionary leader, that he had honesty to preserve him from
the temptations of ambition and ostentation, and that he had the good
sense to be guided in civil matters by men who had studied the laws
of social life and the theories of free government. He was _justus
et tenax propositi_; and in periods that might well have dismayed
a smaller man, he feared neither the throne to which he opposed
himself, nor the changing voices of the fellow-citizens for whose
welfare he had fought. But sixty or seventy years will not suffice to
give to a man the fame of having been first among all men. Washington
did much, and I for one do not believe that his work will perish.
But I have always found it difficult,--I may say impossible,--to
sound his praises in his own land. Let us suppose that a courteous
Frenchman ventures an opinion among Englishmen that Wellington was a
great general, would he feel disposed to go on with his eulogium when
encountered on two or three sides at once with such observations as
the following:--"I should rather calculate he was; about the first
that ever did live or ever will live. Why, he whipped your Napoleon
everlasting whenever he met him. He whipped everybody out of the
field. There warn't anybody ever lived was able to stand nigh him,
and there won't come any like him again. Sir, I guess our Wellington
never had his likes on your side of the water. Such men can't
grow in a down-trodden country of slaves and paupers." Under such
circumstances the Frenchman would probably be shut up. And when I
strove to speak of Washington I generally found myself shut up also.

Arlington Heights, when I was at Washington, was the head-quarters of
General M'Dowell, the General to whom is attributed--I believe most
wrongfully--the loss of the battle of Bull's Run. The whole place was
then one camp. The fences had disappeared. The gardens were trodden
into mud. The roads had been cut to pieces, and new tracks made
everywhere through the grounds. But the timber still remained. Some
no doubt had fallen, but enough stood for the ample ornamentation
of the place. I saw placards up, prohibiting the destruction of the
trees, and it is to be hoped that they have been spared. Very little
in this way has been spared in the country all around.

Mount Vernon, Washington's own residence, stands close over the
Potomac, above six miles below Alexandria. It will be understood that
the capital is on the eastern, or Maryland side of the river, and
that Arlington Heights, Alexandria, and Mount Vernon are in Virginia.
The river Potomac divided the two old colonies, or States as they
afterwards became; but when Washington was to be built, a territory,
said to be ten miles square, was cut out of the two States and was
called the district of Columbia. The greater portion of this district
was taken from Maryland, and on that the city was built. It comprised
the pleasant town of Georgetown, which is now a suburb--and the only
suburb--of Washington. The portion of the district on the Virginian
side included Arlington Heights, and went so far down the river as
to take in the Virginian city of Alexandria. This was the extreme
western point of the district; but since that arrangement was made,
the State of Virginia petitioned to have their portion of Columbia
back again, and this petition was granted. Now it is felt that the
land on both sides of the river should belong to the city, and the
Government is anxious to get back the Virginian section. The city and
the immediate vicinity are freed from all State allegiance, and are
under the immediate rule of the United States Government,--having of
course its own municipality; but the inhabitants have no political
power, as power is counted in the States. They vote for no political
officer, not even for the President, and return no member to
Congress, either as a senator or as a representative. Mount Vernon
was never within the district of Columbia.

When I first made inquiry on the subject I was told that Mount Vernon
at that time was not to be reached;--that though it was not in the
hands of the rebels, neither was it in the hands of Northerners, and
that therefore strangers could not go there; but this, though it
was told to me and others by those who should have known the facts,
was not the case. I had gone down the river with a party of ladies,
and we were opposite to Mount Vernon; but on that occasion we were
assured we could not land. The rebels, we were told, would certainly
seize the ladies, and carry them off into Secessia. On hearing which
the ladies were of course doubly anxious to be landed. But our stern
commander, for we were on a Government boat, would not listen to
their prayers, but carried us instead on board the "Pensacola," a
sloop-of-war which was now lying in the river, ready to go to sea,
and ready also to run the gauntlet of the rebel batteries which lined
the Virginian shore of the river for many miles down below Alexandria
and Mount Vernon. A sloop-of-war in these days means a large
man-of-war, the guns of which are so big that they only stand on
one deck, whereas a frigate would have them on two decks, and a
line-of-battle ship on three. Of line-of-battle ships there will, I
suppose, soon be none, as the "Warrior" is only a frigate. We went
over the "Pensacola," and I must say she was very nice, pretty, and
clean. I have always found American sailors on their men-of-war to
be clean and nice-looking,--as much so I should say as our own; but
nothing can be dirtier, more untidy, or apparently more ill-preserved
than all the appurtenances of their soldiers.

We landed also on this occasion at Alexandria, and saw as melancholy
and miserable a town as the mind of man can conceive. Its ordinary
male population, counting by the voters, is 1500, and of these 700
were in the southern army. The place had been made a hospital for
northern soldiers, and no doubt the site for that purpose had been
well chosen. But let any woman imagine what would be the feelings of
her life while living in a town used as a hospital for the enemies
against whom her absent husband was then fighting! Her own man would
be away ill,--wounded, dying, for what she knew, without the comfort
of any hospital attendance, without physic, with no one to comfort
him; but those she hated, with a hatred much keener than his, were
close to her hand, using some friend's house that had been forcibly
taken, crawling out into the sun under her eyes, taking the bread
from her mouth! Life in Alexandria at this time must have been sad
enough. The people were all secessionists, but the town was held by
the northern party. Through the lines, into Virginia, they could not
go at all. Up to Washington they could not go without a military
pass, not to be obtained without some cause given. All trade was at
an end. In no town at that time was trade very flourishing; but here
it was killed altogether,--except that absolutely necessary trade of
bread. Who would buy boots or coats, or want new saddles, or waste
money on books, in such days as these, in such a town as Alexandria?
And then out of 1500 men, one-half had gone to fight the southern
battles! Among the women of Alexandria secession would have found but
few opponents.

It was here that a hot-brained young man, named Ellsworth, was killed
in the early days of the rebellion. He was a colonel in the northern
volunteer army, and on entering Alexandria found a secession flag
flying at the chief hotel. Instead of sending up a corporal's guard
to remove it, he rushed up and pulled it down with his own hand. As
he descended, the landlord shot him dead, and one of his soldiers
shot the landlord dead. It was a pity that so brave a lad, who had
risen so high, should fall so vainly; but they have made a hero of
him in America;--have inscribed his name on marble monuments, and
counted him up among their great men. In all this their mistake
is very great. It is bad for a country to have no names worthy of
monumental brass; but it is worse for a country to have monumental
brasses covered with names which have never been made worthy of such
honour. Ellsworth had shown himself to be brave and foolish. Let his
folly be pardoned on the score of his courage, and there, I think,
should have been an end of it.

I found afterwards that Mount Vernon was accessible, and I rode
thither with some officers from the staff of General Heintzleman,
whose outside pickets were stationed beyond the old place. I
certainly should not have been well pleased had I been forced to
leave the country without seeing the house in which Washington had
lived and died. Till lately this place was owned and inhabited by
one of the family, a Washington, descended from a brother of the
General's; but it has now become the property of the country, under
the auspices of Mr. Everett, by whose exertions was raised the money
with which it was purchased. It is a long house, of two stories,
built, I think, chiefly of wood, with a verandah, or rather long
portico, attached to the front, which looks upon the river. There are
two wings, or sets of outhouses, containing the kitchen and servants'
rooms, which were joined by open wooden verandahs to the main
building; but one of these verandahs has gone, under the influence of
years. By these a semicircular sweep is formed before the front door,
which opens away from the river, and towards the old prim gardens,
in which, we were told, General Washington used to take much delight.
There is nothing very special about the house. Indeed, as a house, it
would now be found comfortless and inconvenient. But the ground falls
well down to the river, and the timber, if not fine, is plentiful
and picturesque. The chief interest of the place, however, is in the
tomb of Washington and his wife. It must be understood that it was a
common practice throughout the States to make a family burying-ground
in any secluded spot on the family property. I have not unfrequently
come across these in my rambles, and in Virginia I have encountered
small, unpretending gravestones under a shady elm, dated as lately as
eight or ten years back. At Mount Vernon there is now a cemetery of
the Washington family; and there, in an open vault--a vault open, but
guarded by iron grating--is the great man's tomb, and by his side
the tomb of Martha his wife. As I stood there alone, with no one
by to irritate me by assertions of the man's absolute supremacy, I
acknowledged that I had come to the final resting-place of a great
and good man,--of a man whose patriotism was, I believe, an honest
feeling, untinged by any personal ambition of a selfish nature. That
he was pre-eminently a successful man may have been due chiefly to
the excellence of his cause, and the blood and character of the
people who put him forward as their right arm in their contest;
but that he did not mar that success by arrogance, or destroy the
brightness of his own name by personal aggrandisement, is due to a
noble nature and to the calm individual excellence of the man.

Considering the circumstances and history of the place, the position
of Mount Vernon, as I saw it, was very remarkable. It lay exactly
between the lines of the two armies. The pickets of the Northern
army had been extended beyond it, not improbably with the express
intention of keeping a spot so hallowed within the power of the
northern Government. But since the war began it had been in the
hands of the seceders. In fact, it stood there in the middle of the
battle-field, on the very line of division between loyalism and
secession. And this was the spot which Washington had selected as the
heart and centre, and safest rallying homestead of the united nation
which he left behind him. But Washington, when he resolved to found
his capital on the banks of the Potomac, knew nothing of the glories
of the Mississippi. He did not dream of the speedy addition to his
already gathered constellations of those Western stars, of Wisconsin,
Illinois, Minnesota, and Iowa; nor did he dream of Texas conquered,
Louisiana purchased, and Missouri and Kansas rescued from the
wilderness.

I have said that Washington was at that time,--the Christmas of
1861-1862,--a melancholy place. This was partly owing to the
despondent tone in which so many Americans then spoke of their own
affairs. It was not that the northern men thought that they were to
be beaten, or that the southern men feared that things were going bad
with their party across the river; but that nobody seemed to have any
faith in anybody. Maclellan had been put up as the true man--exalted
perhaps too quickly, considering the limited opportunities for
distinguishing himself which fortune had thrown in his way; but now
belief in Maclellan seemed to be slipping away. One felt that it was
so from day to day, though it was impossible to define how or whence
the feeling came. And then the character of the ministry fared still
worse in public estimation. That Lincoln, the President, was honest,
and that Chase, the Secretary of the Treasury, was able, was the only
good that one heard spoken. At this time two Jonahs were specially
pointed out as necessary sacrifices, by whose immersion into the
comfortless ocean of private life the ship might perhaps be saved.
These were Mr. Cameron, the Secretary of War, and Mr. Welles, the
Secretary of the Navy. It was said that Lincoln, when pressed to rid
his Cabinet of Cameron, had replied, that when a man was crossing a
stream the moment was hardly convenient for changing his horse; but
it came to that at last, that he found he must change his horse, even
in the very sharpest run of the river. Better that than sit an animal
on whose exertions he knew that he could not trust. So Mr. Cameron
went, and Mr. Stanton became Secretary at War in his place. But Mr.
Cameron, though put out of the Cabinet, was to be saved from absolute
disgrace by being sent as Minister to Russia. I do not know that
it would become me here to repeat the accusations made against Mr.
Cameron, but it had long seemed to me that the maintenance in such
a position, at such a time, of a gentleman who had to sustain such
a universal absence of public confidence, must have been most
detrimental to the army and to the Government.

Men whom one met in Washington were not unhappy about the state of
things, as I had seen men unhappy in the North and in the West. They
were mainly indifferent, but with that sort of indifference which
arises from a break down of faith in anything. "There was the army!
Yes, the army! But what an army! Nobody obeyed anybody. Nobody did
anything! Nobody thought of advancing! There were, perhaps, two
hundred thousand men assembled round Washington; and now the effort
of supplying them with food and clothing was as much as could be
accomplished! But the contractors, in the meantime, were becoming
rich. And then as to the Government! Who trusted it? Who would put
their faith in Seward and Cameron? Cameron was now gone, it was true;
and in that way the whole of the Cabinet would soon be broken up. As
to Congress, what could Congress do? Ask questions which no one would
care to answer, and finally get itself packed up and sent home." The
President and the constitution fared no better in men's mouths. The
former did nothing,--neither harm nor good; and as for the latter, it
had broken down and shown itself to be inefficient. So men ate, and
drank, and laughed, waiting till chaos should come, secure in the
belief that the atoms into which their world would resolve itself,
would connect themselves again in some other form without trouble on
their part.

And at Washington I found no strong feeling against England and
English conduct towards America. "We men of the world," a Washington
man might have said, "know very well that everybody must take care of
himself first. We are very good friends with you,--of course, and are
very glad to see you at our table whenever you come across the water;
but as for rejoicing at your joys, or expecting you to sympathize
with our sorrows, we know the world too well for that. We are
splitting into pieces, and of course that is gain to you. Take
another cigar." This polite, fashionable, and certainly comfortable
way of looking at the matter had never been attained at New York or
Philadelphia, at Boston or Chicago. The northern provincial world
of the States had declared to itself that those who were not with
it were against it; that its neighbours should be either friends or
foes; that it would understand nothing of neutrality. This was often
mortifying to me, but I think I liked it better on the whole than the
_laisser-aller_ indifference of Washington.

Everybody acknowledged that society in Washington had been almost
destroyed by the loss of the southern half of the usual sojourners in
the city. The senators and members of Government, who heretofore had
come from the southern States, had no doubt spent more money in the
capital than their northern brethren. They and their families had
been more addicted to social pleasures. They are the descendants of
the old English Cavaliers, whereas the northern men have come from
the old English Roundheads. Or if, as may be the case, the blood
of the races has now been too well mixed to allow of this being
said with absolute truth, yet something of the manners of the old
forefathers has been left. The southern gentleman is more genial,
less dry,--I will not say more hospitable, but more given to enjoy
hospitality than his northern brother; and this difference is quite
as strong with the women as with the men. It may therefore be
understood that secession would be very fatal to the society of
Washington. It was not only that the members of Congress were not
there. As to very many of the representatives, it may be said that
they do not belong sufficiently to Washington to make a part of its
society. It is not every representative that is, perhaps, qualified
to do so. But secession had taken away from Washington those who
held property in the South--who were bound to the South by any ties,
whether political or other; who belonged to the South by blood,
education, and old habits. In very many cases--nay, in most such
cases--it had been necessary that a man should select whether he
would be a friend to the South, and therefore a rebel; or else an
enemy to the South, and therefore untrue to all the predilections and
sympathies of his life. Here has been the hardship. For such people
there has been no neutrality possible. Ladies even have not been able
to profess themselves simply anxious for peace and goodwill, and so
to remain tranquil. They who are not for me are against me, has been
spoken by one side and by the other. And I suppose that in all civil
war it is necessary that it should be so. I heard of various cases
in which father and son had espoused different sides in order that
property might be retained both in the North and in the South. Under
such circumstances it may be supposed that society in Washington
would be considerably cut up. All this made the place somewhat
melancholy.




CHAPTER II.

CONGRESS.


In the interior of the Capitol much space is at present wasted, but
this arises from the fact of great additions to the original plan
having been made. The two chambers,--that of the Senate and of the
Representatives, are in the two new wings, on the middle, or what we
call the first-floor. The entrance is made under a dome, to a large
circular hall, which is hung around with surely the worst pictures by
which a nation ever sought to glorify its own deeds. There are yards
of paintings at Versailles which are bad enough; but there is nothing
at Versailles comparable in villany to the huge daubs which are
preserved in this hall at the Capitol. It is strange that even
self-laudatory patriotism should desire the perpetuation of such
rubbish. When I was there the new dome was still in progress, and an
ugly column of woodwork, required for internal support and affording
a staircase to the top, stood in this hall. This of course was a
temporary and necessary evil; but even this was hung around with the
vilest of portraits.

From the hall, turning to the left, if the entrance be made at the
front door, one goes to the new Chamber of Representatives, passing
through that which was the old chamber. This is now dedicated to the
exposition of various new figures by Crawford, and to the sale of
tarts and gingerbread,--of very bad tarts and gingerbread. Let that
old woman look to it, or let the House dismiss her. In fact this
chamber is now but a vestibule to a passage, a second hall as it
were, and thus thrown away. Changes probably will be made which will
bring it into some use, or some scheme of ornamentation. From this
a passage runs to the Representative Chamber, passing between those
tell-tale windows, which, looking to the right and left, proclaim the
tenuity of the building. The windows on one side, that looking to the
east or front, should, I think, be closed. The appearance, both from
the inside and from the outside, would be thus improved.

The Representative Chamber itself--which of course answers to our
House of Commons--is a handsome, commodious room, admirably fitted
for the purposes required. It strikes one as rather low, but I doubt
if it were higher whether it would be better adapted for hearing.
Even at present it is not perfect in this respect as regards the
listeners in the gallery. It is a handsome, long chamber, lighted by
skylights from the roof, and is amply large enough for the number to
be accommodated. The Speaker sits opposite to the chief entrance,
his desk being fixed against the opposite wall. He is thus brought
nearer to the body of the men before him than is the case with our
Speaker. He sits at a marble table, and the clerks below him are also
accommodated with marble. Every representative has his own arm-chair,
and his own desk before it. This may be done for a house consisting
of about 240 members, but could hardly be contrived with us. These
desks are arranged in a semicircular form, or in a broad horseshoe,
and every member as he sits faces the Speaker. A score or so of
little boys are always running about the floor, ministering to the
members' wishes, carrying up petitions to the chair, bringing water
to long-winded legislators, delivering and carrying out letters, and
running with general messages. They do not seem to interrupt the
course of business, and yet they are the liveliest little boys I
ever saw. When a member claps his hands, indicating a desire for
attendance, three or four will jockey for the honour. On the whole,
I thought the little boys had a good time of it.

But not so the Speaker. It seemed to me that the amount of work
falling upon the Speaker's shoulders was cruelly heavy. His voice was
always ringing in my ears, exactly as does the voice of the croupier
at a gambling-table who goes on declaring and explaining the results
of the game, and who generally does so in sharp, loud, ringing
tones, from which all interest in the proceeding itself seems
to be excluded. It was just so with the Speaker in the House of
Representatives. The debate was always full of interruptions; but
on every interruption the Speaker asked the gentleman interrupted
whether he would consent to be so treated. "The gentleman from
Indiana has the floor." "The gentleman from Ohio wishes to ask the
gentleman from Indiana a question." "The gentleman from Indiana gives
permission." "The gentleman from Ohio!"--these last words being a
summons to him of Ohio to get up and ask his question. "The gentleman
from Pennsylvania rises to order." "The gentleman from Pennsylvania
is in order." And then the House seems always to be voting, and the
Speaker is always putting the question. "The gentlemen who agree to
the amendment will say, Ay." Not a sound is heard. "The gentlemen who
oppose the amendment will say, No." Again not a sound. "The Ayes have
it," says the Speaker, and then he goes on again. All this he does
with amazing rapidity, and is always at it with the same hard, quick,
ringing, uninterested voice. The gentleman whom I saw in the chair
was very clever, and quite up to the task. But as for dignity--!
Perhaps it might be found that any great accession of dignity would
impede the celerity of the work to be done, and that a closer copy of
the British model might not on the whole increase the efficiency of
the American machine.

When any matter of real interest occasioned a vote, the ayes and noes
would be given aloud; and then, if there were a doubt arising from
the volume of sound, the Speaker would declare that the "ayes" or the
"noes" would seem to have it! And upon this a poll would be demanded.
In such cases the Speaker calls on two members, who come forth
and stand fronting each other before the chair, making a gangway.
Through this the ayes walk like sheep, the tellers giving them an
accelerating poke when they fail to go on with rapidity. Thus they
are counted, and the noes are counted in the same way. It seemed
to me that it would be very possible in a dishonest legislator to
vote twice on any subject of great interest; but it may perhaps be
the case that there are no dishonest legislators in the House of
Representatives.

According to a list which I obtained, the present number of members
is 173, and there are 63 vacancies occasioned by secession. New
York returns 33 members, Pennsylvania 25, Ohio 21, Virginia 13,
Massachusetts and Indiana 11, Tennessee and Kentucky 10, South
Carolina 6, and so on, till Delaware, Kansas, and Florida return only
1 each. When the constitution was framed, Pennsylvania returned 8,
and New York only 6; whereas Virginia returned 10, and South Carolina
5. From which may be gathered the relative rate of increase in
population of the Free-soil States and the Slave States. All these
States return two senators each to the other House, Kansas sending
as many as New York. The work in the House begins at 12 noon, and is
not often carried on late into the evening. Indeed this, I think, is
never done till towards the end of the session.

The Senate House is in the opposite wing of the building, the
position of the one house answering exactly to that of the other.
It is somewhat smaller, but is, as a matter of course, much less
crowded. There are 34 States, and therefore 68 seats and 68 desks
only are required. These also are arranged in a horse-shoe form,
and face the President; but there was a sad array of empty chairs
when I was in Washington, nineteen or twenty seats being vacant in
consequence of secession. In this house the Vice-President of the
United States acts as President, but has by no means so hard a job
of work as his brother on the other side of the way. Mr. Hannibal
Hamlin, from Maine, now fills this chair. I was driven, while in
Washington, to observe something amounting almost to a peculiarity in
the Christian names of the gentlemen who were then administrating the
Government of the country. Mr. Abraham Lincoln was the President, Mr.
Hannibal Hamlin the Vice-President, Mr. Galusha Grow the Speaker of
the Representatives, Mr. Salmon Chase the Secretary of the Treasury,
Mr. Caleb Smith the Attorney-General, Mr. Simon Cameron the Secretary
at War, and Mr. Gideon Welles the Secretary of the Navy.

In the Senate House, as in the other house, there are very commodious
galleries for strangers, running round the entire chambers, and these
galleries are open to all the world. As with all such places in the
States, a large portion of them is appropriated to ladies. But I came
at last to find that the word lady signified a female or a decently
dressed man. Any arrangement for classes is in America impossible;
the seats intended for gentlemen must as a matter of course be open
to all men; but by giving up to the rougher sex half the amount of
accommodation nominally devoted to ladies, the desirable division
is to a certain extent made. I generally found that I could obtain
admittance to the ladies' gallery if my coat were decent and I had
gloves with me.

All the adjuncts of both these chambers are rich and in good keeping.
The staircases are of marble, and the outside passages and lobbies
are noble in size and in every way convenient. One knows well the
trouble of getting into the House of Lords and House of Commons, and
the want of comfort which attends one there; and an Englishman cannot
fail to make comparisons injurious to his own country. It would not,
perhaps, be possible to welcome all the world in London as is done in
Washington, but there can be no good reason why the space given to
the public with us should not equal that given in Washington. But, so
far are we from sheltering the public, that we have made our House of
Commons so small, that it will not even hold all its own members.

I had an opportunity of being present at one of their field-days
in the Senate. Slidell and Mason had just then been sent from Fort
Warren across to England in the Rinaldo. And here I may as well say
what further there is for me to say about those two heroes. I was in
Boston when they were taken, and all Boston was then full of them. I
was at Washington when they were surrendered, and at Washington for
a time their names were the only household words in vogue. To me it
had, from the first, been a matter of certainty that England would
demand the restitution of the men. I had never attempted to argue the
matter on the legal points, but I felt, as though by instinct, that
it would be so. First of all there reached us, by telegram, from Cape
Race, rumours of what the press in England was saying;--rumours of a
meeting in Liverpool, and rumours of the feeling in London. And then
the papers followed, and we got our private letters. It was some days
before we knew what was actually the demand made by Lord Palmerston's
cabinet; and during this time, through the five or six days which
were thus passed, it was clear to be seen that the American feeling
was undergoing a great change--or if not the feeling, at any rate the
purpose. Men now talked of surrendering these Commissioners as though
it were a line of conduct which Mr. Seward might find convenient; and
then men went further, and said that Mr. Seward would find any other
line of conduct very inconvenient. The newspapers, one after another,
came round. That, under all the circumstances, the States Government
behaved well in the matter no one, I think, can deny; but the
newspapers, taken as a whole, were not very consistent and, I think,
not very dignified. They had declared with throats of brass that
these men should never be surrendered to perfidious Albion; but when
it came to be understood that in all probability they would be so
surrendered, they veered round without an excuse, and spoke of their
surrender as of a thing of course. And thus, in the course of about a
week, the whole current of men's minds was turned. For myself, on my
first arrival at Washington, I felt certain that there would be war,
and was preparing myself for a quick return to England; but from the
moment that the first whisper of England's message reached us, and
that I began to hear how it was received and what men said about it,
I knew that I need not hurry myself. One met a minister here, and a
senator there, and anon some wise diplomatic functionary. By none of
these grave men would any secret be divulged; none of them had any
secret ready for divulging. But it was to be read in every look of
the eye, in every touch of the hand, and in every fall of the foot of
each of them, that Mason and Slidell would go to England.

Then we had, in all the fulness of diplomatic language, Lord
Russell's demand and Mr. Seward's answer. Lord Russell's demand was
worded in language so mild, was so devoid of threat, was so free
from anger, that at the first reading it seemed to ask for nothing.
It almost disappointed by its mildness. Mr. Seward's reply, on the
other hand, by its length of argumentation, by a certain sharpness of
diction to which that gentleman is addicted in his State papers, and
by a tone of satisfaction inherent through it all, seemed to demand
more than he conceded. But, in truth, Lord Russell had demanded
everything, and the United States Government had conceded everything.

I have said that the American Government behaved well in its mode
of giving the men up, and I think that so much should be allowed to
them on a review of the whole affair. That Captain Wilkes had no
instructions to seize the two men is a known fact. He did seize them
and brought them into Boston harbour, to the great delight of his
countrymen. This delight I could understand, though of course I did
not share it. One of these men had been the parent of the Fugitive
Slave Law; the other had been great in fostering the success of
filibustering. Both of them were hot secessionists, and undoubtedly
rebels. No two men on the continent were more grievous by their
antecedents and present characters to all northern feeling. It is
impossible to deny that they were rebels against the Government of
their country. That Captain Wilkes was not on this account justified
in seizing them is now a matter of history, but that the people of
the loyal States should rejoice in their seizure was a matter of
course. Wilkes was received with an ovation, which as regarded him
was ill-judged and undeserved, but which in its spirit was natural.
Had the President's Government at that moment disowned the deed
done by Wilkes, and declared its intention of giving up the men
unasked, the clamour raised would have been very great, and perhaps
successful. We were told that the American lawyers were against
their doing so; and indeed there was such a shout of triumph that no
ministry in a country so democratic could have ventured to go at once
against it, and to do so without any external pressure.

Then came the one ministerial blunder. The President put forth his
message, in which he was cunningly silent on the Slidell and Mason
affair; but to his message was appended, according to custom, the
report from Mr. Welles, the Secretary of the Navy. In this report
approval was expressed of the deed done by Captain Wilkes. Captain
Wilkes was thus in all respects indemnified, and the blame, if any,
was taken from his shoulders and put on to the shoulders of that
officer who was responsible for the Secretary's letter. It is true
that in that letter the Secretary declared that in case of any future
seizure the vessel seized must be taken into port, and so declared
in animadverting on the fact that Captain Wilkes had not brought the
"Trent" into port. But, nevertheless, Secretary Welles approved of
Captain Wilkes's conduct. He allowed the reasons to be good which
Wilkes had put forward for leaving the ship, and in all respects
indemnified the captain. Then the responsibility shifted itself to
Secretary Welles; but I think it must be clear that the President, in
sending forward that report, took that responsibility upon himself.
That he is not bound to send forward the reports of his Secretaries
as he receives them;--that he can disapprove them and require
alteration, was proved at the very time by the fact that he had in
this way condemned Secretary Cameron's report, and caused a portion
of it to be omitted. Secretary Cameron had unfortunately allowed his
entire report to be printed, and it appeared in a New York paper.
It contained a recommendation with reference to the slave question
most offensive to a part of the Cabinet, and to the majority of Mr.
Lincoln's party. This, by order of the President, was omitted in the
official way. It was certainly a pity that Mr. Welles's paragraph
respecting the "Trent" was not omitted also. The President was dumb
on the matter, and that being so the Secretary should have been dumb
also.

But when the demand was made the States Government yielded at once,
and yielded without bluster. I cannot say I much admired Mr. Seward's
long letter. It was full of smart special pleading, and savoured
strongly, as Mr. Seward's productions always do, of the personal
author. Mr. Seward was making an effort to place a great State paper
on record, but the _ars celare artem_ was altogether wanting; and,
if I am not mistaken, he was without the art itself. I think he left
the matter very much where he found it. The men however were to be
surrendered, and the good policy consisted in this,--that no delay
was sought, no diplomatic ambiguities were put into request. It was
the opinion of very many that some two or three months might be
gained by correspondence, and that at the end of that time things
might stand on a different footing. If during that time the North
should gain any great success over the South, the States might be in
a position to disregard England's threats. No such game was played.
The illegality of the arrest was at once acknowledged, and the
men were given up,--with a tranquillity that certainly appeared
marvellous after all that had so lately occurred.

Then came Mr. Sumner's field day. Mr. Charles Sumner is a senator
from Massachusetts, known as a very hot abolitionist and as having
been the victim of an attack made upon him in the Senate House by
Senator Brookes. He was also at the time of which I am writing
Chairman of the Committee on Foreign Affairs, which position is
as near akin to that of a British minister in Parliament as can
be attained under the existing constitution of the States. It is
not similar, because such chairman is by no means bound to the
Government; but he has ministerial relations, and is supposed to be
specially conversant with all questions relating to foreign affairs.
It was understood that Mr. Sumner did not intend to find fault either
with England or with the Government of his own country as to its
management of this matter; or that, at least, such fault-finding was
not his special object, but that he was desirous to put forth views
which might lead to a final settlement of all difficulties with
reference to the right of international search.

On such an occasion, a speaker gives himself very little chance of
making a favourable impression on his immediate hearers if he reads
his speech from a written manuscript. Mr. Sumner did so on this
occasion, and I must confess that I was not edified. It seemed to me
that he merely repeated, at greater length, the arguments which I had
heard fifty times during the last thirty or forty days. I am told
that the discourse is considered to be logical, and that it "reads"
well. As regards the gist of it, or that result which Mr. Sumner
thinks to be desirable, I fully agree with him, as I think will all
the civilized world before many years have passed. If international
law be what the lawyers say it is, international law must be altered
to suit the requirements of modern civilization. By those laws, as
they are construed, everything is to be done for two nations at war
with each other; but nothing is to be done for all the nations of the
world that can manage to maintain the peace. The belligerents are to
be treated with every delicacy, as we treat our heinous criminals;
but the poor neutrals are to be handled with unjust rigour, as we
handle our unfortunate witnesses in order that the murderer may, if
possible, be allowed to escape. Two men living in the same street
choose to pelt each other across the way with brickbats, and the
other inhabitants are denied the privileges of the footpath lest they
should interfere with the due prosecution of the quarrel! It is, I
suppose, the truth, that we English have insisted on this right of
search with more pertinacity than any other nation. Now in this case
of Slidell and Mason we have felt ourselves aggrieved, and have
resisted. Luckily for us there was no doubt of the illegality of the
mode of seizure in this instance; but who will say that if Captain
Wilkes had taken the "Trent" into the harbour of New York, in order
that the matter might have been adjudged there, England would have
been satisfied? Our grievance was, that our mail-packet was stopped
on the seas while doing its ordinary beneficent work. And our resolve
is, that our mail-packets shall not be so stopped with impunity.
As we were high-handed in old days in insisting on this right of
search, and as we are high-handed now in resisting a right of search,
it certainly behoves us to see that we be just in our modes of
proceeding. Would Captain Wilkes have been right according to the
existing law if he had carried the "Trent" away to New York? If so,
we ought not to be content with having escaped from such a trouble
merely through a mistake on his part. Lord Russell says that the
"Trent's" voyage was an innocent voyage. That is the fact that should
be established;--not only that the voyage was, in truth, innocent,
but that it should not be made out to be guilty by any international
law. Of its real innocency all thinking men must feel themselves
assured. But it is not only of the seizure that we complain, but of
the search also. An honest man is not to be handled by a policeman
while on his daily work, lest by chance a stolen watch should be
in his pocket. If international law did give such power to all
belligerents, international law must give it no longer. In the
beginning of these matters, as I take it, the object was when two
powerful nations were at war to allow the smaller fry of nations to
enjoy peace and quiet, and to avoid if possible the general scuffle.
Thence arose the position of a neutral. But it was clearly not fair
that any such nation, having proclaimed its neutrality, should, after
that, fetch and carry for either of the combatants to the prejudice
of the other. Hence came the right of search, in order that unjust
falsehood might be prevented. But the seas were not then bridged with
ships as they are now bridged, and the laws as written were, perhaps,
then practical and capable of execution. Now they are impracticable
and not capable of execution. It will not, however, do for us to
ignore them if they exist; and therefore they should be changed. It
is, I think, manifest that our own pretensions as to the right of
search must be modified after this. And now I trust I may finish my
book without again naming Messrs. Slidell and Mason.

The working of the Senate bears little or no analogy to that of our
House of Lords. In the first place, the senator's tenure there is not
hereditary, nor is it for life. They are elected, and sit for six
years. Their election is not made by the people of their States, but
by the State legislature. The two Houses, for instance, of the State
of Massachusetts meet together and elect by their joint vote to the
vacant seat for their State. It is so arranged that an entirely new
senate is not elected every sixth year. Instead of this a third of
the number is elected every second year. It is a common thing for
senators to be re-elected, and thus to remain in the House for twelve
and eighteen years. In our Parliament the House of Commons has
greater political strength and wider political action than the House
of Lords; but in Congress the Senate counts for more than the House
of Representatives in general opinion. Money bills must originate in
the House of Representatives, but that is, I think, the only special
privilege attaching to the public purse which the lower House enjoys
over the upper. Amendments to such bills can be moved in the Senate;
and all such bills must pass the Senate before they become law. I am
inclined to think that individual members of the Senate work harder
than individual representatives. More is expected of them, and any
prolonged absence from duty would be more remarked in the Senate than
in the other House. In our Parliament this is reversed. The payment
made to members of the Senate is 3000 dollars, or £600, per annum,
and to a representative, £500 per annum. To this is added certain
mileage allowance for travelling backwards and forwards, between
their own State and the Capitol. A senator, therefore, from
California or Oregon has not altogether a bad place; but the halcyon
days of mileage allowances are, I believe, soon to be brought to an
end. It is quite within rule that the senator of to-day should be
the representative of to-morrow. Mr. Crittenden, who was senator
from Kentucky, is now a member of the Lower House from an electoral
district in that State. John Quincy Adams went into the House of
Representatives after he had been President of the United States.

Divisions in the Senate do not take place as in the House of
Representatives. The ayes and noes are called for in the same way;
but if a poll be demanded, the clerk of the House calls out the names
of the different senators, and makes out lists of the votes according
to the separate answers given by the members. The mode is certainly
more dignified than that pursued in the other House, where during the
ceremony of voting the members look very much like sheep being passed
into their pens.

I heard two or three debates in the House of Representatives, and
that one especially in which, as I have said before, a chapter was
read out of the book of Joshua. The manner in which the Creator's
name and the authority of His Word was bandied about the house on
that occasion, did not strike me favourably. The question originally
under debate was the relative power of the civil and military
authority. Congress had desired to declare its ascendancy over
military matters; but the army and the Executive generally had
demurred to this,--not with an absolute denial of the rights of
Congress, but with those civil and almost silent generalities with
which a really existing Power so well knows how to treat a nominal
Power. The ascendant wife seldom tells her husband in so many words
that his opinion in the house is to go for nothing; she merely
resolves that such shall be the case, and acts accordingly. An
observer could not but perceive that in those days Congress was
taking upon itself the part, not exactly of an obedient husband, but
of a husband vainly attempting to assert his supremacy. "I have got
to learn," said one gentleman after another, rising indignantly on
the floor, "that the military authority of our generals is above that
of this House." And then one gentleman relieved the difficulty of the
position by branching off into an eloquent discourse against slavery,
and by causing a chapter to be read out of the book of Joshua.

On that occasion the gentleman's diversion seemed to have the effect
of relieving the House altogether from the embarrassment of the
original question; but it was becoming manifest, day by day, that
Congress was losing its ground, and that the army was becoming
indifferent to its thunders:--that the army was doing so, and
also that ministers were doing so. In the States, the President
and his ministers are not in fact subject to any parliamentary
responsibility. The President may be impeached, but the member of
an opposition does not always wish to have recourse to such an
extreme measure as impeachment. The ministers are not in the houses,
and cannot therefore personally answer questions. Different large
subjects, such as Foreign affairs, Financial affairs, and Army
matters, are referred to Standing Committees in both houses; and
these Committees have relations with the ministers. But they have no
constitutional power over the ministers; nor have they the much more
valuable privilege of badgering a minister hither and thither by
_vivâ voce_ questions on every point of his administration. The
minister sits safe in his office--safe there for the term of the
existing Presidency if he can keep well with the President; and
therefore, even under ordinary circumstances, does not care much for
the printed or written messages of Congress. But under circumstances
so little ordinary as those of 1861-62, while Washington was
surrounded by hundreds of thousands of soldiers, Congress was
absolutely impotent. Mr. Seward could snap his fingers at Congress,
and he did so. He could not snap his fingers at the army; but then he
could go with the army,--could keep the army on his side by remaining
on the same side with the army; and this, as it seemed, he resolved
to do. It must be understood that Mr. Seward was not Prime Minister.
The President of the United States has no Prime Minister,--or
hitherto has had none. The Minister for Foreign Affairs has usually
stood highest in the Cabinet, and Mr. Seward, as holding that
position, was not inclined to lessen its authority. He was gradually
assuming for that position the prerogatives of a Premier, and men
were beginning to talk of Mr. Seward's ministry. It may easily be
understood that at such a time the powers of Congress would be
undefined, and that ambitious members of Congress would rise and
assert on the floor, with that peculiar voice of indignation so
common in parliamentary debate, "that they had got to learn," &c.,
&c., &c. It seemed to me that the lesson which they had yet to learn
was then in the process of being taught to them. They were anxious
to be told all about the mischance at Ball's Bluff, but nobody would
tell them anything about it. They wanted to know something of that
blockade on the Potomac; but such knowledge was not good for them.
"Pack them up in boxes, and send them home," one military gentleman
said to me. And I began to think that something of the kind would be
done, if they made themselves troublesome. I quote here the manner in
which their questions, respecting the affair at Ball's Bluff, were
answered by the Secretary of War. "The Speaker laid before the House
a letter from the Secretary at War, in which he says that he has the
honour to acknowledge the receipt of the resolution adopted on the
6th instant, to the effect that the answer of the department to the
resolution passed on the second day of the session, is not responsive
and satisfactory to the House, and requesting a further answer. The
Secretary has now to state that measures have been taken to ascertain
who is responsible for the disastrous movement at Ball's Bluff, but
that it is not compatible with the public interest to make known
those measures at the present time."

In truth the days are evil for any Congress of debaters, when a great
army is in camp on every side of them. The people had called for the
army, and there it was. It was of younger birth than Congress, and
had thrown its elder brother considerably out of favour, as has been
done before by many a new-born baby. If Congress could amuse itself
with a few set speeches, and a field-day or two, such as those
afforded by Mr. Sumner, it might all be very well,--provided that
such speeches did not attack the army. Over and beyond this, let
them vote the supplies and have done with it. Was it probable that
General Maclellan should have time to answer questions about Ball's
Bluff,--and he with such a job of work on his hands? Congress could
of course vote what committees of military inquiry it might please,
and might ask questions without end; but we all know to what such
questions lead, when the questioner has no power to force an answer
by a penalty. If it might be possible to maintain the semblance of
respect for Congress, without too much embarrassment to military
secretaries, such semblance should be maintained; but if Congress
chose to make itself really disagreeable, then no semblance could be
kept up any longer. That, as far as I could judge, was the position
of Congress in the early months of 1862; and that, under existing
circumstances, was perhaps the only possible position that it could
fill.

All this to me was very melancholy. The streets of Washington were
always full of soldiers. Mounted sentries stood at the corners of all
the streets with drawn sabres,--shivering in the cold and besmeared
with mud. A military law came out that civilians might not ride
quickly through the street. Military riders galloped over one at
every turn, splashing about through the mud, and reminding one not
unfrequently of John Gilpin. Why they always went so fast, destroying
their horses' feet on the rough stones, I could never learn. But I,
as a civilian, given, as Englishmen are, to trotting, and furnished
for the time with a nimble trotter, found myself harried from time
to time by muddy men with sabres, who would dash after me, rattling
their trappings, and bid me go at a slower pace. There is a building
in Washington, built by private munificence and devoted, according to
an inscription which it bears, "To the Arts." It has been turned into
an army clothing establishment. The streets of Washington, night and
day, were thronged with army waggons. All through the city military
huts and military tents were to be seen, pitched out among the mud
and in the desert places. Then there was the chosen locality of the
teamsters and their mules and horses--a wonderful world in itself;
and all within the city! Here horses and mules lived,--or died,--_sub
dio_, with no slightest apology for a stable over them, eating their
provender from off the waggons to which they were fastened. Here,
there, and everywhere large houses were occupied as the head-quarters
of some officer, or the bureau of some military official. At
Washington and round Washington the army was everything. While this
was so, is it to be conceived that Congress should ask questions
about military matters with success?

All this, as I say, filled me with sorrow. I hate military
belongings, and am disgusted at seeing the great affairs of a nation
put out of their regular course. Congress to me is respectable.
Parliamentary debates, be they ever so prosy,--as with us, or even
so rowdy, as sometimes they have been with our cousins across the
water,--engage my sympathies. I bow inwardly before a Speaker's
chair, and look upon the elected representatives of any nation as the
choice men of the age. Those muddy, clattering dragoons, sitting at
the corners of the streets with dirty woollen comforters round their
ears, were to me hideous in the extreme. But there at Washington, at
the period of which I am writing, I was forced to acknowledge that
Congress was at a discount, and that the rough-shod generals were the
men of the day. "Pack them up and send them in boxes to their several
States." It would come to that, I thought, or to something like
that unless Congress would consent to be submissive. "I have yet to
learn--!" said indignant members, stamping with their feet on the
floor of the house. One would have said that by that time the lesson
might almost have been understood.

Up to the period of this civil war Congress has certainly worked well
for the United States. It might be easy to pick holes in it;--to show
that some members have been corrupt, others quarrelsome, and others
again impracticable. But when we look at the circumstances under
which it has been from year to year elected,--when we remember
the position of the newly-populated States from which the members
have been sent, and the absence throughout the country of that old
traditionary class of Parliament men on whom we depend in England;
when we think how recent has been the elevation in life of the
majority of those who are and must be elected,--it is impossible
to deny them praise for intellect, patriotism, good sense, and
diligence. They began but sixty years ago, and for sixty years
Congress has fully answered the purpose for which it was established.
With no antecedents of grandeur, the nation, with its Congress, has
made itself one of the five great nations of the world. And what
living English politician will say even now, with all its troubles
thick upon it, that it is the smallest of the five? When I think of
this, and remember the position in Europe which an American has been
able to claim for himself, I cannot but acknowledge that Congress on
the whole has been conducted with prudence, wisdom, and patriotism.

The question now to be asked is this,--Have the powers of Congress
been sufficient, or are they sufficient, for the continued
maintenance of free government in the States under the constitution?
I think that the powers given by the existing constitution to
Congress can no longer be held to be sufficient; and that if the
Union be maintained at all, it must be done by a closer assimilation
of its congressional system to that of our Parliament. But to
that matter I must allude again, when speaking of the existing
constitution of the States.




CHAPTER III.

THE CAUSES OF THE WAR.


I have seen various essays purporting to describe the causes of this
civil war between the North and South; but they have generally been
written with the view of vindicating either one side or the other,
and have spoken rather of causes which should, according to the ideas
of their writers, have produced peace, than of those which did, in
the course of events, actually produce war. This has been essentially
the case with Mr. Everett, who in his lecture at New York, on the 4th
of July, 1860, recapitulated all the good things which the North has
done for the South, and who proved--if he has proved anything--that
the South should have cherished the North instead of hating it. And
this was very much the case also with Mr. Motley in his letter to
the "London Times." That letter is good in its way, as is everything
that comes from Mr. Motley, but it does not tell us why the war has
existed. Why is it that eight millions of people have desired to
separate themselves from a rich and mighty empire,--from an empire
which was apparently on its road to unprecedented success, and which
had already achieved wealth, consideration, power, and internal
well-being?

One would be led to imagine from the essays of Mr. Everett and of Mr.
Motley, that slavery has had little or nothing to do with it. I must
acknowledge it to be my opinion that slavery in its various bearings
has been the single and necessary cause of the war;--that slavery
being there in the South, this war was only to be avoided by a
voluntary division,--secession voluntary both on the part of North
and South;--that in the event of such voluntary secession being not
asked for, or if asked for not conceded, revolution and civil war
became necessary,--were not to be avoided by any wisdom or care on
the part of the North.

The arguments used by both the gentlemen I have named prove very
clearly that South Carolina and her sister States had no right to
secede under the constitution; that is to say, that it was not open
to them peaceably to take their departure, and to refuse further
allegiance to the President and Congress without a breach of the
laws by which they were bound. For a certain term of years, namely,
from 1781 to 1787, the different States endeavoured to make their
way in the world, simply leagued together by certain articles
of confederation. It was declared that each State retained its
sovereignty, freedom, and independence; and that the said States then
entered severally into a firm league of friendship with each other
for their common defence. There was no President, no Congress taking
the place of our Parliament, but simply a congress of delegates
or ambassadors, two or three from each State, who were to act in
accordance with the policy of their own individual States. It is
well that this should be thoroughly understood, not as bearing
on the question of the present war, but as showing that a loose
confederation, not subversive of the separate independence of the
States, and capable of being partially dissolved at the will of each
separate State, was tried, and was found to fail. South Carolina took
upon herself to act as she might have acted had that confederation
remained in force; but that confederation was an acknowledged
failure. National greatness could not be achieved under it, and
individual enterprise could not succeed under it. Then in lieu of
that, by the united consent of the thirteen States the present
constitution was drawn up and sanctioned, and to that every State
bound itself in allegiance. In that constitution no power of
secession is either named or presumed to exist. The individual
sovereignty of the States had, in the first instance, been thought
desirable. The young republicans hankered after the separate power
and separate name which each might then have achieved; but that dream
had been found vain,--and therefore the States, at the cost of some
fond wishes, agreed to seek together for national power, rather than
run the risks entailed upon separate existence. I append to this
volume the articles of confederation and the constitution of the
United States, as they who desire to look into this matter may be
anxious to examine them without reference to other volumes. The
latter alone is clear enough on the subject, but is strengthened by
the former in proving that under the latter no State could possess
the legal power of seceding.

But they who created the constitution, who framed the clauses, and
gave to this terribly important work what wisdom they possessed, did
not presume to think that it could be final. The mode of altering the
constitution is arranged in the constitution. Such alterations must
be proposed either by two-thirds of both the houses of the general
Congress, or by the legislatures of two-thirds of the States;
and must, when so proposed, be ratified by the legislatures of
three-fourths of the States.--(Article V.) There can, I think, be no
doubt that any alteration so carried would be valid; even though that
alteration should go to the extent of excluding one or any number
of States from the Union. Any division so made would be made in
accordance with the constitution.

South Carolina and the southern States no doubt felt that they would
not succeed in obtaining secession in this way, and therefore they
sought to obtain the separation which they wanted by revolution,--by
revolution and rebellion, as Naples has lately succeeded in her
attempt to change her political status; as Hungary is looking to do;
as Poland has been seeking to do any time since her subjection; as
the revolted colonies of Great Britain succeeded in doing in 1776,
whereby they created this great nation which is now undergoing all
the sorrows of a civil war. The name of secession claimed by the
South for this movement is a misnomer. If any part of a nationality
or empire ever rebelled against the government established on behalf
of the whole, South Carolina so rebelled when, on the 20th November,
1860, she put forth her ordinance of so-called secession; and the
other southern States joined in that rebellion when they followed
her lead. As to that fact, there cannot, I think, much longer be any
doubt in any mind. I insist on this especially, repeating perhaps
unnecessarily, opinions expressed in my first volume, because I still
see it stated by English writers that the secession ordinance of
South Carolina should have been accepted as a political act by the
government of the United States. It seems to me that no government
can in this way accept an act of rebellion without declaring its own
functions to be beyond its own power.

But what if such rebellion be justifiable, or even reasonable? what
if the rebels have cause for their rebellion? For no one will now
deny that rebellion may be both reasonable and justifiable; or that
every subject in the land may be bound in duty to rebel. In such case
the government will be held to have brought about its own punishment
by its own fault. But as government is a wide affair, spreading
itself gradually, and growing in virtue or in vice from small
beginnings,--from seeds slow to produce their fruits,--it is
much easier to discern the incidence of the punishment than the
perpetration of the fault. Government goes astray by degrees, or sins
by the absence of that wisdom which should teach rulers how to make
progress, as progress is made by those whom they rule. The fault may
be absolutely negative and have spread itself over centuries; may
be, and generally has been, attributable to dull good men;--but not
the less does the punishment come at a blow. The rebellion exists
and cannot be put down,--will put down all that opposes it; but the
government is not the less bound to make its fight. That is the
punishment that comes on governing men or on a governing people, that
govern not well or not wisely.

As Mr. Motley says in the paper to which I have alluded, "No man, on
either side of the Atlantic, with Anglo-Saxon blood in his veins,
will dispute the right of a people, or of any portion of a people,
to rise against oppression, to demand redress of grievances, and in
case of denial of justice to take up arms to vindicate the sacred
principle of liberty. Few Englishmen or Americans will deny that the
source of government is the consent of the governed, or that every
nation has the right to govern itself according to its will. When
the silent consent is changed to fierce remonstrance, revolution is
impending. The right of revolution is indisputable. It is written on
the whole record of our race. British and American history is made
up of rebellion and revolution. Hampden, Pym, and Oliver Cromwell;
Washington, Adams, and Jefferson, all were rebels." Then comes the
question whether South Carolina and the Gulf States had so suffered
as to make rebellion on their behalf justifiable or reasonable; or if
not, what cause had been strong enough to produce in them so strong
a desire for secession,--a desire which has existed for fully half
the term through which the United States has existed as a nation,
and so firm a resolve to rush into rebellion with the object of
accomplishing that which they deemed not to be accomplished on other
terms.

It must, I think, be conceded that the Gulf States have not suffered
at all by their connection with the northern States; that in lieu
of any such suffering, they owe all their national greatness to the
northern States; that they have been lifted up by the commercial
energy of the Atlantic States and by the agricultural prosperity of
the western States, to a degree of national consideration and respect
through the world at large, which never could have belonged to them
standing alone. I will not trouble my readers with statistics which
few would care to follow, but let any man of ordinary every-day
knowledge turn over in his own mind his present existing ideas of
the wealth and commerce of New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Chicago,
Pittsburg, and Cincinnati, and compare them with his ideas as to New
Orleans, Charleston, Savannah, Mobile, Richmond, and Memphis. I do
not name such towns as Baltimore and St. Louis, which stand in slave
States, but which have raised themselves to prosperity by northern
habits. If this be not sufficient, let him refer to population tables
and tables of shipping and tonnage. And of those southern towns
which I have named the commercial wealth is of northern creation.
The success of New Orleans as a city can be no more attributed to
Louisianians than can that of the Havana to the men of Cuba, or of
Calcutta to the natives of India. It has been a repetition of the old
story, told over and over again through every century since commerce
has flourished in the world; the tropics can produce,--but the men
from the North shall sow and reap, and garner and enjoy. As the
Creator's work has progressed, this privilege has extended itself to
regions further removed and still further from southern influences.
If we look to Europe, we see that this has been so in Greece, Italy,
Spain, France, and the Netherlands; in England and Scotland; in
Prussia and in Russia; and the Western world shows us the same story.
Where is now the glory of the Antilles? where the riches of Mexico,
and the power of Peru? They still produce sugar, guano, gold, cotton,
coffee, almost whatever we may ask them,--and will continue to do so
while held to labour under sufficient restraint; but where are their
men, where are their books, where are their learning, their art,
their enterprise? I say it with sad regret at the decadence of so
vast a population; but I do say that the southern States of America
have not been able to keep pace with their northern brethren;--that
they have fallen behind in the race, and feeling that the struggle is
too much for them, have therefore resolved to part.

The reasons put forward by the South for secession have been trifling
almost beyond conception. Northern tariffs have been the first,
and perhaps foremost. Then there has been a plea that the national
exchequer has paid certain bounties to New England fishermen,
of which the South has paid its share,--getting no part of such
bounty in return. There is also a complaint as to the navigation
laws,--meaning, I believe, that the laws of the States increase
the cost of coast traffic by forbidding foreign vessels to engage in
the trade, thereby increasing also the price of goods and confining
the benefit to the North, which carries on the coasting trade of
the country, and doing only injury to the South, which has none
of it. Then last, but not least, comes that grievance as to the
Fugitive Slave Law. The law of the land as a whole,--the law of the
nation,--requires the rendition from free States of all fugitive
slaves. But the free States will not obey this law. They even pass
State laws in opposition to it. "Catch your own slaves," they say,
"and we will not hinder you; at any rate we will not hinder you
officially. Of non-official hindrance you must take your chance. But
we absolutely decline to employ our officers to catch your slaves."
That list comprises, as I take it, the amount of southern official
grievances. Southern people will tell you privately of others. They
will say that they cannot sleep happy in their beds, fearing lest
insurrection should be roused among their slaves. They will tell you
of domestic comfort invaded by northern falsehood. They will explain
to you how false has been Mrs. Beecher Stowe. Ladies will fill your
ears and your hearts too with tales of the daily efforts they make
for the comfort of their "people," and of the ruin to those efforts
which arises from the malice of the abolitionists. To all this you
make some answer with your tongue that is hardly true,--for in such
a matter courtesy forbids the plain truth. But your heart within
answers truly, "Madam,--dear madam, your sorrow is great; but that
sorrow is the necessary result of your position."

As to those official reasons, in what fewest words I can use I will
endeavour to show that they come to nothing. The tariff--and a
monstrous tariff it then was--was the ground put forward by South
Carolina for secession, when General Jackson was President, and Mr.
Calhoun was the hero of the South. Calhoun bound himself and his
State to take certain steps towards secession at a certain day if
that tariff were not abolished. The tariff was so absurd that Jackson
and his Government were forced to abandon it,--would have abandoned
it without any threat from Calhoun; but under that threat it was
necessary that Calhoun should be defied. General Jackson proposed
a compromise tariff, which was odious to Calhoun,--not on its own
behalf, for it yielded nearly all that was asked, but as being
subversive of his desire for secession. The President, however,
not only insisted on his compromise, but declared his purpose of
preventing its passage into law unless Calhoun himself, as senator,
would vote for it. And he also declared his purpose, not, we may
presume, officially, of hanging Calhoun if he took that step towards
secession which he had bound himself to take in the event of the
tariff not being repealed. As a result of all this Calhoun voted for
the compromise, and secession for the time was beaten down. That was
in 1832, and may be regarded as the commencement of the secession
movement. The tariff was then a convenient reason, a ground to be
assigned with a colour of justice, because it was a tariff admitted
to be bad. But the tariff has been modified again and again since
that; and the tariff existing when South Carolina seceded in 1860 had
been carried by votes from South Carolina. The absurd Morrill tariff
could not have caused secession, for it was passed without a struggle
in the collapse of Congress occasioned by secession.

The bounty to fishermen was given to create sailors, so that a
marine might be provided for the nation. I need hardly show that
the national benefit would accrue to the whole nation for whose
protection such sailors were needed. Such a system of bounties may
be bad, but if so it was bad for the whole nation. It did not affect
South Carolina otherwise than it affected Illinois, Pennsylvania, or
even New York.

The navigation laws may also have been bad. According to my thinking
such protective laws are bad; but they created no special hardship
on the South. By any such a theory of complaint all sections of all
nations have ground of complaint against any other section which
receives special protection under any law. The drinkers of beer in
England should secede because they pay a tax, whereas the consumers
of paper pay none. The navigation laws of the States are no doubt
injurious to the mercantile interests of the States. I at least have
no doubt on the subject. But no one will think that secession is
justified by the existence of a law of questionable expediency. Bad
laws will go by the board if properly handled by those whom they
pinch, as the navigation laws went by the board with us in England.

As to that Fugitive Slave Law, it should be explained that the
grievance has not arisen from the loss of slaves. I have heard it
stated that South Carolina, up to the time of the secession, had
never lost a slave in this way--that is, by northern opposition to
the Fugitive Slave Law; and that the total number of slaves escaping
successfully into the northern States, and there remaining through
the non-operation of this law, did not amount to five in the year.
It has not been a question of property but of feeling. It has been a
political point, and the South has conceived--and probably conceived
truly--that this resolution on the part of northern States to defy
the law with reference to slaves, even though in itself it might
not be immediately injurious to southern property, was an insertion
of the narrow end of the wedge. It was an action taken against
slavery,--an action taken by men of the North against their
fellow-countrymen in the South. Under such circumstances the sooner
such countrymen should cease to be their fellows the better it would
be for them. That, I take it, was the argument of the South; or at
any rate that was its feeling.

I have said that the reasons given for secession have been trifling,
and among them have so estimated this matter of the Fugitive Slave
Law. I mean to assert that the ground actually put forward is
trifling;--the loss, namely, of slaves to which the South has been
subjected. But the true reason pointed at in this--the conviction,
namely, that the North would not leave slavery alone, and would
not allow it to remain as a settled institution--was by no means
trifling. It has been this conviction on the part of the South, that
the North would not live in amity with slavery, would continue to
fight it under this banner or under that, would still condemn it as
disgraceful to man and rebuke it as impious before God, which has
produced rebellion and civil war--and will ultimately produce that
division for which the South is fighting, and against which the
North is fighting; and which, when accomplished, will give the North
new wings, and will leave the South without political greatness or
commercial success.

Under such circumstances I cannot think that rebellion on the part
of the South was justified by wrongs endured or made reasonable
by the prospect of wrongs to be inflicted. It is disagreeable, that
having to live with a wife who is always rebuking one for some
special fault; but the outside world will not grant a divorce on that
account, especially if the outside world is well aware that the fault
so rebuked is of daily occurrence. "If you do not choose to be called
a drunkard by your wife," the outside world will say, "it will be
well that you should cease to drink." Ah! but that habit of drinking
when once acquired cannot easily be laid aside. The brain will not
work, the organs of the body will not perform their functions, the
blood will not run. The drunkard must drink till he dies. All that
may be a good ground for divorce, the outside world will say; but
the plea should be put in by the sober wife, not by the intemperate
husband. But what if the husband takes himself off without any
divorce and takes with him also his wife's property, her earnings,
that on which he has lived and his children? It may be a good bargain
still for her, the outside world will say; but she, if she be a woman
of spirit, will not willingly put up with such wrongs. The South
has been the husband drunk with slavery, and the North has been the
ill-used wife.

Rebellion, as I have said, is often justifiable, but it is, I think,
never justifiable on the part of a paid servant of that Government
against which it is raised. We must at any rate feel that this is
true of men in high places,--as regards those men to whom by reason
of their offices it should specially belong to put down rebellion.
Had Washington been the Governor of Virginia, had Cromwell been a
minister of Charles, had Garibaldi held a marshal's baton under the
Emperor of Austria or the King of Naples, those men would have been
traitors as well as rebels. Treason and rebellion may be made one
under the law, but the mind will always draw the distinction. I,
if I rebel against the Crown, am not on that account necessarily a
traitor. A betrayal of trust is, I take it, necessary to treason.
I am not aware that Jefferson Davis is a traitor; but that Buchanan
was a traitor admits, I think, of no doubt. Under him and with his
connivance, the rebellion was allowed to make its way. Under him and
by his officers arms and ships, and men and money, were sent away
from those points at which it was known that they would be needed
if it were intended to put down the coming rebellion, and to those
points at which it was known that they would be needed if it were
intended to foster the coming rebellion. But Mr. Buchanan had no
eager feeling in favour of secession. He was not of that stuff of
which are made Davis and Toombs and Slidell. But treason was easier
to him than loyalty. Remonstrance was made to him, pointing out the
misfortunes which his action, or want of action, would bring upon the
country. "Not in my time," he answered. "It will not be in my time."
So that he might escape unscathed out of the fire, this chief ruler
of a nation of thirty millions of men was content to allow treason
and rebellion to work their way! I venture to say so much here as
showing how impossible it was that Mr. Lincoln's government, on its
coming into office, should have given to the South,--not what the
South had asked, for the South had not asked,--but what the South had
taken; what the South had tried to filch. Had the South waited for
secession till Mr. Lincoln had been in his chair, I could understand
that England should sympathize with her. For myself I cannot agree to
that scuttling of the ship by the captain on the day which was to see
the transfer of his command to another officer.

The southern States were driven into rebellion by no wrongs inflicted
on them; but their desire for secession is not on that account matter
for astonishment. It would have been surprising had they not desired
secession. Secession of one kind, a very practical secession, had
already been forced upon them by circumstances. They had become
a separate people, dissevered from the North by habits, morals,
institutions, pursuits, and every conceivable difference in their
modes of thought and action. They still spoke the same language, as
do Austria and Prussia; but beyond that tie of language they had
no bond but that of a meagre political union in their Congress at
Washington. Slavery, as it had been expelled from the North, and as
it had come to be welcomed in the South, had raised such a wall of
difference, that true political union was out of the question. It
would be juster, perhaps, to say that those physical characteristics
of the South which had induced this welcoming of slavery, and those
other characteristics of the North which had induced its expulsion,
were the true causes of the difference. For years and years this
has been felt by both, and the fight has been going on. It has been
continued for thirty years, and almost always to the detriment of
the South. In 1845 Florida and Texas were admitted into the Union as
slave States. I think that no State had then been admitted, as a free
State, since Michigan, in 1836. In 1846 Iowa was admitted as a free
State, and from that day to this Wisconsin, California, Minnesota,
Oregon, and Kansas have been brought into the Union; all as free
States. The annexation of another slave State to the existing Union
had become, I imagine, impossible--unless such object were gained by
the admission of Texas. We all remember that fight about Kansas, and
what sort of a fight it was! Kansas lies alongside of Missouri, a
slave State, and is contiguous to no other State. If the free-soil
party could, in the days of Pierce and Buchanan, carry the day in
Kansas, it is not likely that they would be beaten on any new ground
under such a President as Lincoln. We have all heard in Europe how
southern men have ruled in the White House, nearly from the days of
Washington downwards; or if not southern men, northern men, such as
Pierce and Buchanan, with southern politics; and therefore we have
been taught to think that the South has been politically the winning
party. They have, in truth, been the losing party as regards national
power. But what they have so lost they have hitherto recovered by
political address and individual statecraft. The leading men of the
South have seen their position, and have gone to their work with the
exercise of all their energies. They organized the Democrat party so
as to include the leaders among the northern politicians. They never
begrudged to these assistants a full share of the good things of
official life. They have been aided by the fanatical abolitionism of
the North by which the Republican party has been divided into two
sections. It has been fashionable to be a Democrat, that is, to hold
southern politics, and unfashionable to be a Republican, or to hold
anti-southern politics. In that way the South has lived and struggled
on against the growing will of the population; but at last that will
became too strong, and when Mr. Lincoln was elected, the South knew
that its day was over.

It is not surprising that the South should have desired secession. It
is not surprising that it should have prepared for it. Since the days
of Mr. Calhoun its leaders have always understood its position with
a fair amount of political accuracy. Its only chance of political
life lay in prolonged ascendancy at Washington. The swelling
crowds of Germans, by whom the western States were being filled,
enlisted themselves to a man in the ranks of abolition. What was
the acquisition of Texas against such hosts as these? An evil day
was coming on the southern politicians, and it behoved them to be
prepared. As a separate nation,--a nation trusting to cotton, having
in their hands, as they imagined, a monopoly of the staple of English
manufacture, with a tariff of their own, and those rabid curses on
the source of all their wealth no longer ringing in their ears, what
might they not do as a separate nation? But as a part of the Union,
they were too weak to hold their own if once their political finesse
should fail them. That day came upon them, not unexpected, in 1860,
and therefore they cut the cable.

And all this has come from slavery. It is hard enough, for how could
the South have escaped slavery? How, at least, could the South have
escaped slavery any time during these last thirty years? And is it,
moreover, so certain that slavery is an unmitigated evil, opposed
to God's will, and producing all the sorrows which have ever been
produced by tyranny and wrong? It is here, after all, that one comes
to the difficult question. Here is the knot which the fingers of men
cannot open, and which admits of no sudden cutting with the knife. I
have likened the slave-holding States to the drunken husband, and in
so doing have pronounced judgment against them. As regards the state
of the drunken man, his unfitness for partnership with any decent,
diligent, well-to-do wife, his ruined condition, and shattered
prospects, the simile, I think, holds good. But I refrain from
saying, that as the fault was originally with the drunkard in that he
became such, so also has the fault been with the slave States. At any
rate I refrain from so saying here, on this page. That the position
of a slave-owner is terribly prejudicial, not to the slave of whom I
do not here speak, but to the owner;--of so much at any rate I feel
assured. That the position is therefore criminal and damnable, I am
not now disposed to take upon myself to assert.

The question of slavery in America cannot be handled fully and fairly
by any one who is afraid to go back upon the subject, and take its
whole history since one man first claimed and exercised the right of
forcing labour from another man. I certainly am afraid of any such
task; but I believe that there has been no period yet, since the
world's work began, when such a practice has not prevailed in a large
portion, probably in the largest portion, of the world's work-fields.
As civilization has made its progress, it has been the duty and
delight, as it has also been the interest of the men at the top of
affairs, not to lighten the work of the men below, but so to teach
them that they should recognize the necessity of working without
coercion. Emancipation of serfs and thralls, of bondsmen and slaves,
has always meant this,--that men having been so taught, should then
work without coercion. As men become educated and aware of the nature
of the tenure on which they hold their life, they learn the fact that
work is a necessity for them, and that it is better to work without
coercion than with it. When men have learned this they are fit for
emancipation, but they are hardly fit till they have learned so much.

In talking or writing of slaves, we always now think of the negro
slave. Of us Englishmen it must at any rate be acknowledged that we
have done what in us lay to induce him to recognize this necessity
for labour. At any rate we acted on the presumption that he would do
so, and gave him his liberty throughout all our lands at a cost which
has never yet been reckoned up in pounds, shillings, and pence. The
cost never can be reckoned up, nor can the gain which we achieved in
purging ourselves from the degradation and demoralization of such
employment. We come into court with clean hands, having done all that
lay with us to do to put down slavery both at home and abroad. But
when we enfranchised the negroes, we did so with the intention, at
least, that they should work as free men. Their share of the bargain
in that respect they have declined to keep, wherever starvation has
not been the result of such resolve on their part; and from the
date of our emancipation, seeing the position which the negroes now
hold with us, the southern States of America have learned to regard
slavery as a permanent institution, and have taught themselves to
regard it as a blessing, and not as a curse.

Negroes were first taken over to America because the white man
could not work under the tropical heats, and because the native
Indian would not work. The latter people has been, or soon will be,
exterminated,--polished off the face of creation, as the Americans
say,--which fate must, I should say, in the long run attend all
non-working people. As the soil of the world is required for
increasing population, the non-working people must go. And so the
Indians have gone. The negroes under compulsion did work, and work
well; and under their hands vast regions of the western tropics
became fertile gardens. The fact that they were carried up into
northern regions which from their nature did not require such aid,
that slavery prevailed in New York and Massachusetts, does not
militate against my argument. The exact limits of any great movement
will not be bounded by its purpose. The heated wax which you drop
on your letter spreads itself beyond the necessities of your seal.
That these negroes would not have come to the western world without
compulsion, or having come, would not have worked without compulsion,
is, I imagine, acknowledged by all. That they have multiplied in the
western world and have there become a race happier, at any rate in
all the circumstances of their life, than their still untamed kinsmen
in Africa, must also be acknowledged. Who, then, can dare to wish
that all that has been done by the negro immigration should have
remained undone?

The name of slave is odious to me. If I know myself I would not own
a negro though he could sweat gold on my behoof. I glory in that
bold leap in the dark which England took with regard to her own West
Indian slaves. But I do not see the less clearly the difficulty of
that position in which the southern States have been placed; and I
will not call them wicked, impious, and abominable, because they now
hold by slavery, as other nations have held by it at some period of
their career. It is their misfortune that they must do so now,--now,
when so large a portion of the world has thrown off the system,
spurning as base and profitless all labour that is not free. It is
their misfortune, for henceforth they must stand alone, with small
rank among the nations, whereas their brethren of the North will
still "flame in the forehead of the morning sky."

When the present constitution of the United States was written,--the
merit of which must probably be given mainly to Madison and Hamilton,
Madison finding the French democratic element, and Hamilton the
English conservative element,--this question of slavery was
doubtless a great trouble. The word itself is not mentioned in
the constitution. It speaks not of a slave, but of a "person held
to service or labour." It neither sanctions nor forbids slavery.
It assumes no power in the matter of slavery; and under it, at
the present moment, all Congress voting together, with the full
consent of the legislatures of thirty-three States, could not
constitutionally put down slavery in the remaining thirty-fourth
State. In fact the constitution ignored the subject.

But nevertheless Washington, and Jefferson from whom Madison received
his inspiration, were opposed to slavery. I do not know that
Washington ever took much action in the matter, but his expressed
opinion is on record. But Jefferson did so throughout his life.
Before the declaration of independence he endeavoured to make slavery
illegal in Virginia. In this he failed, but long afterwards, when
the United States was a nation, he succeeded in carrying a law by
which the further importation of slaves into any of the States was
prohibited after a certain year--1820. When this law was passed, the
framers of it considered that the gradual abolition of slavery would
be secured. Up to that period the negro population in the States had
not been self-maintained. As now in Cuba, the numbers had been kept
up by new importations, and it was calculated that the race, when
not recruited from Africa, would die out. That this calculation was
wrong we now know, and the breeding-grounds of Virginia have been the
result.

At that time there were no cotton-fields. Alabama and Mississippi
were outlying territories. Louisiana had been recently purchased, but
was not yet incorporated as a State. Florida still belonged to Spain,
and was all but unpopulated. Of Texas no man had yet heard. Of the
slave States, Virginia, the two Carolinas, and Georgia were alone
wedded to slavery. Then the matter might have been managed. But under
the constitution as it had been framed, and with the existing powers
of the separate States, there was not even then open any way by which
slavery could be abolished other than by the separate action of the
States; nor has there been any such way opened since. With slavery
these southern States have grown and become fertile. The planters
have thriven, and the cotton-fields have spread themselves. And then
came emancipation in the British islands. Under such circumstances
and with such a lesson, could it be expected that the southern States
should learn to love abolition?

It is vain to say that slavery has not caused secession, and that
slavery has not caused the war. That, and that only, has been the
real cause of this conflict, though other small collateral issues may
now be put forward to bear the blame. Those other issues have arisen
from this question of slavery, and are incidental to it and a part of
it. Massachusetts, as we all know, is democratic in its tendencies,
but South Carolina is essentially aristocratic. This difference
has come of slavery. A slave country, which has progressed far in
slavery, must be aristocratic in its nature,--aristocratic and
patriarchal. A large slave-owner from Georgia may call himself a
democrat,--may think that he reveres republican institutions, and
may talk with American horror of the thrones of Europe; but he must
in his heart be an aristocrat. We, in England, are apt to speak of
republican institutions, and of universal suffrage which is perhaps
the chief of them, as belonging equally to all the States. In South
Carolina there is not and has not been any such thing. The electors
for the President there are chosen not by the people, but by the
legislature; and the votes for the legislature are limited by a high
property qualification. A high property qualification is required for
a member of the House of Representatives in South Carolina;--four
hundred freehold acres of land and ten negroes is one qualification.
Five hundred pounds clear of debt is another qualification;--for,
where a sum of money is thus named, it is given in English money.
Russia and England are not more unlike in their political and social
feelings than are the real slave States and the real free-soil
States. The gentlemen from one and from the other side of the line
have met together on neutral ground, and have discussed political
matters without flying frequently at each other's throats, while the
great question on which they differed was allowed to slumber. But the
awakening has been coming by degrees, and now the South had felt that
it was come. Old John Brown, who did his best to create a servile
insurrection at Harper's Ferry, has been canonized through the North
and West, to the amazement and horror of the South. The decision in
the "Dred Scott" case, given by the Chief Justice of the Supreme
Court of the United States, has been received with shouts of
execration through the North and West. The southern gentry have been
Uncle-Tommed into madness. It is no light thing to be told daily
by your fellow-citizens, by your fellow-representatives, by your
fellow-senators, that you are guilty of the one damning sin that
cannot be forgiven. All this they could partly moderate, partly
rebuke, and partly bear as long as political power remained in their
hands; but they have gradually felt that that was going, and were
prepared to cut the rope and run as soon as it was gone.

Such, according to my ideas, have been the causes of the war. But I
cannot defend the South. As long as they could be successful in their
schemes for holding the political power of the nation, they were
prepared to hold by the nation. Immediately those schemes failed,
they were prepared to throw the nation overboard. In this there
has undoubtedly been treachery as well as rebellion. Had these
politicians been honest,--though the political growth of Washington
has hardly admitted of political honesty,--but had these politicians
been even ordinarily respectable in their dishonesty, they would
have claimed secession openly before Congress, while yet their own
President was at the White House. Congress would not have acceded.
Congress itself could not have acceded under the constitution; but a
way would have been found, had the southern States been persistent in
their demand. A way, indeed, has been found; but it has lain through
fire and water, through blood and ruin, through treason and theft,
and the downfall of national greatness. Secession will, I think, be
accomplished, and the southern Confederation of States will stand
something higher in the world than Mexico and the republics of
Central America. Her cotton monopoly will have vanished, and her
wealth will have been wasted.

I think that history will agree with me in saying that the northern
States had no alternative but war. What concession could they make?
Could they promise to hold their peace about slavery? And had they
so promised, would the South have believed them? They might have
conceded secession; that is, they might have given all that would
have been demanded. But what individual chooses to yield to such
demands; and if not an individual,--then what people will do so?
But in truth they could not have yielded all that was demanded. Had
secession been granted to South Carolina and Georgia, Virginia would
have been coerced to join those States by the nature of her property,
and with Virginia Maryland would have gone, and Washington, the
capital. What may be the future line of division between the North
and the South I will not pretend to say; but that line will probably
be dictated by the North. It may still be hoped that Missouri,
Kentucky, Virginia, and Maryland will go with the North, and be
rescued from slavery. But had secession been yielded, had the
prestige of success fallen to the lot of the South, those States must
have become southern.

While on this subject of slavery--for in discussing the cause of the
war, slavery is the subject that must be discussed--I cannot forbear
to say a few words about the negroes of the North American States.
The republican party of the North is divided into two sections, of
which one may be called abolitionist, and the other non-abolitionist.
Mr. Lincoln's government presumes itself to belong to the latter,
though its tendencies towards abolition are very strong. The
abolition party is growing in strength daily. It is but a short time
since Wendell Phillips could not lecture in Boston without a guard of
police. Now, at this moment of my writing, he is a popular hero. The
very men who, five years since, were accustomed to make speeches,
strong as words could frame them, against abolition, are now turning
round, and if not preaching abolition, are patting the backs of those
who do so. I heard one of Mr. Lincoln's cabinet declare old John
Brown to be a hero and a martyr. All the Protestant Germans are
abolitionists,--and they have become so strong a political element
in the country that many now declare that no future President can be
elected without their aid. The object is declared boldly. No long
political scheme is asked for, but instant abolition is wanted;
abolition to be declared while yet the war is raging. Let the slaves
of all rebels be declared free; and all slave-owners in the seceding
States are rebels!

One cannot but ask what abolition means, and to what it would lead.
Any ordinance of abolition now pronounced would not effect the
emancipation of the slaves, but might probably effect a servile
insurrection. I will not accuse those who are preaching this crusade
of any desire for so fearful a scourge on the land. They probably
calculate that an edict of abolition once given would be so much done
towards the ultimate winning of the battle. They are making their
hay while their sun shines. But if they could emancipate those four
million slaves, in what way would they then treat them? How would
they feed them? In what way would they treat the ruined owners of the
slaves, and the acres of land which would lie uncultivated? Of all
subjects with which a man can be called on to deal, it is the most
difficult. But a New England abolitionist talks of it as though no
more were required than an open path for his humanitarian energies.
"I could arrange it all to-morrow morning," a gentleman said to me,
who is well known for his zeal in this cause!

Arrange it all to-morrow morning,--abolition of slavery having
become a fact during the night! I should not envy that gentleman his
morning's work. It was bad enough with us, but what were our numbers
compared with those of the southern States? We paid a price for the
slaves, but no price is to be paid in this case. The value of the
property would probably be lowly estimated at £100 a piece for men,
women, and children, or four hundred million pounds for the whole
population. They form the wealth of the South; and if they were
bought, what should be done with them? They are like children. Every
slave-owner in the country,--every man who has had ought to do with
slaves,--will tell the same story. In Maryland and Delaware are men
who hate slavery, who would be only too happy to enfranchise their
slaves; but the negroes who have been slaves are not fit for freedom.
In many cases, practically, they cannot be enfranchised. Give them
their liberty, starting them well in the world at what expense you
please, and at the end of six months they will come back upon your
hands for the means of support. Everything must be done for them.
They expect food and clothes, and instruction as to every simple act
of life, as do children. The negro domestic servant is handy at his
own work; no servant more so; but he cannot go beyond that. He does
not comprehend the object and purport of continued industry. If he
have money he will play with it,--will amuse himself with it. If
he have none, he will amuse himself without it. His work is like a
schoolboy's task; he knows it must be done, but never comprehends
that the doing of it is the very end and essence of his life. He is a
child in all things, and the extent of prudential wisdom to which he
ever attains is to disdain emancipation, and cling to the security
of his bondage. It is true enough that slavery has been a curse.
Whatever may have been its effect on the negroes, it has been a
deadly curse upon the white masters.

The preaching of abolition during the war is to me either the
deadliest of sins or the vainest of follies. Its only immediate
result possible would be servile insurrection. That is so manifestly
atrocious,--a wish for it would be so hellish, that I do not presume
the preachers of abolition to entertain it. But if that be not meant,
it must be intended that an act of emancipation should be carried
throughout the slave States,--either in their separation from the
North, or after their subjection and consequent reunion with the
North. As regards the States while in secession, the North cannot
operate upon their slaves any more than England can operate on
the slaves of Cuba. But if a reunion is to be a precursor of
emancipation, surely that reunion should be first effected. A
decision in the northern and western mind on such a subject cannot
assist in obtaining that reunion,--but must militate against the
practicability of such an object. This is so well understood, that
Mr. Lincoln and his Government do not dare to call themselves
abolitionists.*

  *President Lincoln has proposed a plan for the emancipation of
   slaves in the border States, and for compensation to the owners.
   His doing so proves that he regards present emancipation in the
   Gulf States as quite out of the question. It also proves that he
   looks forward to the recovery of the border States for the North,
   but that he does not look forward to the recovery of the Gulf
   States.

Abolition, in truth, is a political cry. It is the banner of defiance
opposed to secession. As the differences between the North and
South have grown with years, and have swelled to the proportions of
national antipathy, southern nullification has amplified itself into
secession, and northern free-soil principles have burst into this
growth of abolition. Men have not calculated the results. Charming
pictures are drawn for you of the negro in a state of Utopian bliss,
owning his own hoe and eating his own hog; in a paradise, where
everything is bought and sold, except his wife, his little ones, and
himself. But the enfranchised negro has always thrown away his hoe,
has eaten any man's hog but his own,--and has too often sold his
daughter for a dollar when any such market has been open to him.

I confess that this cry of abolition has been made peculiarly
displeasing to me by the fact that the northern abolitionist is by
no means willing to give even to the negro who is already free that
position in the world which alone might tend to raise him in the
scale of human beings,--if anything can so raise him and make him fit
for freedom. The abolitionists hold that the negro is the white man's
equal. I do not. I see, or think that I see, that the negro is the
white man's inferior through laws of nature. That he is not mentally
fit to cope with white men,--I speak of the full-blooded negro,--and
that he must fill a position simply servile. But the abolitionist
declares him to be the white man's equal. But yet, when he has him at
his elbow, he treats him with a scorn which even the negro can hardly
endure. I will give him political equality, but not social equality,
says the abolitionist. But even in this he is untrue. A black man may
vote in New York, but he cannot vote under the same circumstances as
a white man. He is subjected to qualifications which in truth debar
him from the poll. A white man votes by manhood suffrage, providing
he has been for one year an inhabitant of his State; but a man of
colour must have been for three years a citizen of the State, and
must own a property qualification of £50 free of debt. But political
equality is not what such men want, nor indeed is it social equality.
It is social tolerance and social sympathy; and these are denied to
the negro. An American abolitionist would not sit at table with a
negro. He might do so in England at the house of an English duchess;
but in his own country the proposal of such a companion would be
an insult to him. He will not sit with him in a public carriage if
he can avoid it. In New York I have seen special street-cars for
coloured people. The abolitionist is struck with horror when he
thinks that a man and a brother should be a slave; but when the man
and the brother has been made free, he is regarded with loathing and
contempt. All this I cannot see with equanimity. There is falsehood
in it from the beginning to the end. The slave as a rule is well
treated,--gets all he wants and almost all he desires. The free negro
as a rule is ill treated, and does not get that consideration which
alone might put him in the worldly position for which his advocate
declares him to be fit. It is false throughout,--this preaching. The
negro is not the white man's equal by nature. But to the free negro
in the northern States this inequality is increased by the white
man's hardness to him.

In a former book which I wrote some few years since, I expressed an
opinion as to the probable destiny of this race in the West Indies.
I will not now go over that question again. I then divided the
inhabitants of those islands into three classes,--the white, the
black, and the coloured, taking a nomenclature which I found there
prevailing. By coloured men I alluded to mulattoes, and all those of
mixed European and African blood. The word "coloured," in the States,
seems to apply to the whole negro race, whether full-blooded or
half-blooded. I allude to this now because I wish to explain that, in
speaking of what I conceive to be the intellectual inferiority of the
negro race, I allude to those of pure negro descent,--or of descent
so nearly pure as to make the negro element manifestly predominant.
In the West Indies, where I had more opportunity of studying the
subject, I always believed myself able to tell a negro from a
coloured man. Indeed the classes are to a great degree distinct
there, the greater portion of the retail trade of the country being
in the hands of the coloured people. But in the States I have been
able to make no such distinction. One sees generally neither the rich
yellow of the West Indian mulatto, nor the deep oily black of the
West Indian negro. The prevailing hue is a dry, dingy brown,--almost
dusty in its dryness. I have observed but little difference made
between the negro and the half-caste,--and no difference in the
actual treatment. I have never met in American society any man or
woman in whose veins there can have been presumed to be any taint of
African blood. In Jamaica they are daily to be found in society.

Every Englishman probably looks forward to the accomplishment of
abolition of slavery at some future day. I feel as sure of it as I do
of the final judgment. When or how it shall come I will not attempt
to foretell. The mode which seems to promise the surest success
and the least present or future inconvenience, would be an edict
enfranchising all female children born after a certain date, and all
their children. Under such an arrangement the negro population would
probably die out slowly,--very slowly. What might then be the fate of
the cotton-fields of the Gulf States, who shall dare to say? It may
be that coolies from India and from China will then have taken the
place of the negro there, as they probably will have done also in
Guiana and the West Indies.




CHAPTER IV.

WASHINGTON TO ST. LOUIS.


Though I had felt Washington to be disagreeable as a city, yet I was
almost sorry to leave it when the day of my departure came. I had
allowed myself a month for my sojourn in the capital, and I had
stayed a month to the day. Then came the trouble of packing up,
the necessity of calling on a long list of acquaintances one after
another, the feeling that bad as Washington might be, I might be
going to places that were worse, a conviction that I should get
beyond the reach of my letters, and a sort of affection which I had
acquired for my rooms. My landlord, being a coloured man, told me
that he was sorry I was going. Would I not remain? Would I come back
to him? Had I been comfortable? Only for so and so or so and so, he
would have done better for me. No white American citizen, occupying
the position of landlord, would have condescended to such comfortable
words. I knew the man did not in truth want me to stay, as a lady
and gentleman were waiting to go in the moment I went out; but I did
not the less value the assurance. One hungers and thirsts after such
civil words among American citizens of this class. The clerks and
managers at hotels, the officials at railway stations, the cashiers
at banks, the women in the shops;--ah! they are the worst of all. An
American woman who is bound by her position to serve you,--who is
paid in some shape to supply your wants, whether to sell you a bit of
soap or bring you a towel in your bedroom at an hotel,--is, I think,
of all human creatures, the most insolent. I certainly had a feeling
of regret at parting with my coloured friend,--and some regret also
as regards a few that were white.

As I drove down Pennsylvania Avenue, through the slush and mud, and
saw, perhaps for the last time, those wretchedly dirty horse sentries
who had refused to allow me to trot through the streets, I almost
wished that I could see more of them. How absurd they looked, with
a whole kit of rattletraps strapped on their horses' backs behind
them,--blankets, coats, canteens, coils of rope, and, always at the
top of everything else, a tin pot! No doubt these things are all
necessary to a mounted sentry, or they would not have been there; but
it always seemed as though the horse had been loaded gipsy-fashion,
in a manner that I may perhaps best describe as higgledy-piggledy,
and that there was a want of military precision in the packing. The
man would have looked more graceful, and the soldier more warlike,
had the pannikin been made to assume some rigidly fixed position
instead of dangling among the ropes. The drawn sabre, too, never
consorted well with the dirty outside woollen wrapper which generally
hung loose from the man's neck. Heaven knows, I did not begrudge him
his comforter in that cold weather, or even his long, uncombed shock
of hair; but I think he might have been made more spruce, and I am
sure that he could not have looked more uncomfortable. As I went,
however, I felt for him a sort of affection, and wished in my heart
of hearts that he might soon be enabled to return to some more
congenial employment.

I went out by the Capitol, and saw that also, as I then believed,
for the last time. With all its faults it is a great building, and,
though unfinished, is effective; its very size and pretension give it
a certain majesty. What will be the fate of that vast pile, and of
those other costly public edifices at Washington, should the South
succeed wholly in their present enterprise? If Virginia should ever
become a part of the southern republic, Washington cannot remain the
capital of the northern republic. In such case it would be almost
better to let Maryland go also, so that the future destiny of that
unfortunate city may not be a source of trouble, and a stumbling
block of opprobrium. Even if Virginia be saved, its position will be
most unfortunate.

I fancy that the railroads in those days must have been doing a very
prosperous business. From New York to Philadelphia, thence on to
Baltimore, and again to Washington, I had found the cars full; so
full that sundry passengers could not find seats. Now, on my return
to Baltimore, they were again crowded. The stations were all crowded.
Luggage-trains were going in and out as fast as the rails could carry
them. Among the passengers almost half were soldiers. I presume that
these were men going on furlough, or on special occasions; for the
regiments were of course not received by ordinary passenger trains.
About this time a return was called for by Congress of all the moneys
paid by the government, on account of the army, to the lines between
New York and Washington. Whether or no it was ever furnished I did
not hear; but it was openly stated that the colonels of regiments
received large gratuities from certain railway companies for the
regiments passing over their lines. Charges of a similar nature
were made against officers, contractors, quartermasters, paymasters,
generals, and cabinet ministers. I am not prepared to say that any
of these men had dirty hands. It was not for me to make inquiries on
such matters. But the continuance and universality of the accusations
were dreadful. When everybody is suspected of being dishonest,
dishonesty almost ceases to be regarded as disgraceful.

I will allude to a charge made against one member of the Cabinet,
because the circumstances of the case were all acknowledged and
proved. This gentleman employed his wife's brother-in-law to buy
ships, and the agent so employed pocketed about £20,000 by the
transaction in six months. The excuse made was that this profit was
in accordance with the usual practice of the ship-dealing trade, and
that it was paid by the owners who sold, and not by the Government
which bought. But in so vast an agency the ordinary rate of profit on
such business became an enormous sum; and the gentleman who made the
plea must surely have understood that that £20,000 was in fact paid
by the government. It is the purchaser, and not the seller, who in
fact pays all such fees. The question is this,--Should the government
have paid so vast a sum for one man's work for six months? And if
so, was it well that that sum should go into the pocket of a near
relative of the Minister whose special business it was to protect the
government?

American private soldiers are not pleasant fellow-travellers. They
are loud and noisy, and swear quite as much as the army could
possibly have sworn in Flanders. They are, moreover, very dirty; and
each man, with his long, thick great-coat, takes up more space than
is intended to be allotted to him. Of course I felt that if I chose
to travel in a country while it had such a piece of business on its
hands, I could not expect that everything should be found in exact
order. The matter for wonder, perhaps, was that the ordinary affairs
of life were so little disarranged, and that any travelling at all
was practicable. Nevertheless the fact remains that American private
soldiers are not agreeable fellow-travellers.

It was my present intention to go due west across the country into
Missouri, skirting, as it were, the line of the war which had now
extended itself from the Atlantic across into Kansas. There were at
this time three main armies,--that of the Potomac, as the army of
Virginia was called, of which Maclellan held the command; that of
Kentucky, under General Buell, who was stationed at Louisville on
the Ohio; and the army on the Mississippi, which had been under
Fremont, and of which General Halleck now held the command. To these
were opposed the three rebel armies of Beauregard, in Virginia; of
Johnston, on the borders of Kentucky and Tennessee; and of Price, in
Missouri. There was also a fourth army in Kansas, west of Missouri,
under General Hunter; and while I was in Washington another general,
supposed by some to be the "coming man," was sent down to Kansas to
participate in General Hunter's command. This was General Jim Lane,
who resigned a seat in the Senate in order that he might undertake
this military duty. When he reached Kansas, having on his route made
sundry violent abolition speeches, and proclaimed his intention
of sweeping slavery out of the south-western States, he came to
loggerheads with his superior officer respecting their relative
positions.

On my arrival at Baltimore, I found the place knee-deep in mud and
slush and half-melted snow. It was then raining hard,--raining dirt,
not water, as it sometimes does. Worse weather for soldiers out in
tents could not be imagined,--nor for men who were not soldiers,
but who nevertheless were compelled to leave their houses. I only
remained at Baltimore one day, and then started again, leaving there
the greater part of my baggage. I had a vague hope,--a hope which
I hardly hoped to realize,--that I might be able to get through to
the South. At any rate I made myself ready for the chance by making
my travelling impediments as light as possible, and started from
Baltimore, prepared to endure all the discomfort which lightness
of baggage entails. My route lay over the Alleghanies by Pittsburg
and Cincinnati, and my first stopping-place was at Harrisburg, the
political capital of Pennsylvania. There is nothing special at
Harrisburg to arrest any traveller; but the local legislature of
the State was then sitting, and I was desirous of seeing the Senate
and Representatives of at any rate one State, during its period of
vitality.

In Pennsylvania the General Assembly, as the joint legislature is
called, sits every year, commencing their work early in January, and
continuing till it be finished. The usual period of sitting seems to
be about ten weeks. In the majority of States, the legislature only
sits every other year. In this State it sits every year, and the
representatives are elected annually. The senators are elected for
three years, a third of the body being chosen each year. The two
chambers were ugly, convenient rooms, arranged very much after the
fashion of the halls of Congress at Washington. Each member had his
own desk, and his own chair. They were placed in the shape of a
horse-shoe, facing the chairman, before whom sat three clerks. In
neither house did I hear any set speech. The voices of the Speaker
and of the clerks of the houses were heard more frequently than
those of the members; and the business seemed to be done in a dull,
serviceable, methodical manner, likely to be useful to the country,
and very uninteresting to the gentlemen engaged. Indeed at Washington
also, in Congress, it seemed to me that there was much less of set
speeches than in our House of Commons. With us there are certain
men whom it seems impossible to put down, and by whom the time of
Parliament is occupied from night to night, with advantage to no one
and with satisfaction to none but themselves. I do not think that the
evil prevails to the same extent in America, either in Congress or in
the State legislatures. As regards Washington, this good result may
be assisted by a salutary practice which, as I was assured, prevails
there. A member gets his speech printed at the Government cost, and
sends it down free by post to his constituents, without troubling
either the house with hearing it, or himself with speaking it. I
cannot but think that the practice might be copied with success on
our side of the water.

The appearance of the members of the legislature of Pennsylvania did
not impress me very favourably. I do not know why we should wish a
legislator to be neat in his dress, and comely, in some degree, in
his personal appearance. There is no good reason, perhaps, why they
should have cleaner shirts than their outside brethren, or have been
more particular in the use of soap and water, and brush and comb.
But I have an idea that if ever our own Parliament becomes dirty, it
will lose its prestige; and I cannot but think that the Parliament
of Pennsylvania would gain an accession of dignity by some slightly
increased devotion to the Graces. I saw in the two houses but one
gentleman, a senator, who looked like a Quaker; but even he was a
very untidy Quaker.

I paid my respects to the Governor, and found him briskly employed
in arranging the appointments of officers. All the regimental
appointments to the volunteer regiments,--and that is practically
to the whole body of the army,*--are made by the State in which the
regiments are mustered. When the affair commenced, the captains and
lieutenants were chosen by the men; but it was found that this would
not do. When the skeleton of a State militia only was required, such
an arrangement was popular and not essentially injurious; but now
that war had become a reality, and that volunteers were required to
obey discipline, some other mode of promotion was found necessary.
As far as I could understand, the appointments were in the hands of
the State Governor, who however was expected in the selection of
the superior officers to be guided by the expressed wishes of the
regiment, when no objection existed to such a choice. In the present
instance the Governor's course was very thorny. Certain unfinished
regiments were in the act of being amalgamated;--two perfect
regiments being made up from perhaps five imperfect regiments, and
so on. But though the privates had not been forthcoming to the full
number for each expected regiment, there had been no such dearth
of officers, and consequently the present operation consisted in
reducing their number.

  *The army at this time consisted nominally of 660,000 men, of
   whom only 20,000 were regulars.

Nothing can be much uglier than the State House at Harrisburg, but
it commands a magnificent view of one of the valleys into which the
Alleghany mountains is broken. Harrisburg is immediately under the
range, probably at its finest point, and the railway running west
from the town to Pittsburg, Cincinnati, and Chicago passes right
over the chain. The line has been magnificently engineered, and the
scenery is very grand. I went over the Alleghanies in mid-winter when
they were covered with snow, but even when so seen they were very
fine. The view down the valley from Altoona, a point near the summit,
must in summer be excessively lovely. I stopped at Altoona one night
with the object of getting about among the hills, and making the best
of the winter view; but I found it impossible to walk. The snow had
become frozen and was like glass. I could not progress a mile in any
way. With infinite labour I climbed to the top of one little hill,
and when there became aware that the descent would be very much more
difficult. I did get down, but should not choose to describe the
manner in which I accomplished the descent.

In running down the mountains to Pittsburg an accident occurred which
in any other country would have thrown the engine off the line, and
have reduced the carriages behind the engine to a heap of ruins. But
here it had no other effect than that of delaying us for three or
four hours. The tire of one of the heavy driving wheels flew off, and
in the shock the body of the wheel itself was broken, one spoke and a
portion of the circumference of the wheel was carried away, and the
steam-chamber was ripped open. Nevertheless the train was pulled up,
neither the engine nor any of the carriages got off the line, and
the men in charge of the train seemed to think very lightly of the
matter. I was amused to see how little was made of the affair by
any of the passengers. In England a delay of three hours would in
itself produce a great amount of grumbling, or at least many signs
of discomfort and temporary unhappiness. But here no one said a word.
Some of the younger men got out and looked at the ruined wheel; but
most of the passengers kept their seats, chewed their tobacco, and
went to sleep. In all such matters an American is much more patient
than an Englishman. To sit quiet, without speech, and ruminate in
some contorted position of body comes to him by nature. On this
occasion I did not hear a word of complaint--nor yet a word of
surprise or thankfulness that the accident had been attended with no
serious result. "I have got a furlough for ten days," one soldier
said to me. "And I have missed every connection all through from
Washington here. I shall have just time to turn round and go back
when I get home." But he did not seem to be in any way dissatisfied.
He had not referred to his relatives when he spoke of "missing his
connections," but to his want of good fortune as regarded railway
travelling. He had reached Baltimore too late for the train on to
Harrisburg, and Harrisburg too late for the train on to Pittsburg.
Now he must again reach Pittsburg too late for his further journey.
But nevertheless he seemed to be well pleased with his position.

Pittsburg is the Merthyr-Tydvil of Pennsylvania,--or perhaps I should
better describe it as an amalgamation of Swansea, Merthyr-Tydvil, and
South Shields. It is without exception the blackest place which I
ever saw. The three English towns which I have named are very dirty,
but all their combined soot and grease and dinginess do not equal
that of Pittsburg. As regards scenery it is beautifully situated,
being at the foot of the Alleghany mountains, and at the juncture
of the two rivers Monongahela and Alleghany. Here, at the town,
they come together and form the river Ohio. Nothing can be more
picturesque than the site; for the spurs of the mountains come down
close round the town, and the rivers are broad and swift, and can
be seen for miles from heights which may be reached in a short walk.
Even the filth and wondrous blackness of the place are picturesque
when looked down upon from above. The tops of the churches are
visible, and some of the larger buildings may be partially traced
through the thick, brown, settled smoke. But the city itself is
buried in a dense cloud. The atmosphere was especially heavy when
I was there, and the effect was probably increased by the general
darkness of the weather. The Monongahela is crossed by a fine bridge,
and on the other side the ground rises at once, almost with the
rapidity of a precipice; so that a commanding view is obtained down
upon the town and the two rivers and the different bridges, from a
height immediately above them. I was never more in love with smoke
and dirt than when I stood here and watched the darkness of night
close in upon the floating soot which hovered over the housetops of
the city. I cannot say that I saw the sun set, for there was no sun.
I should say that the sun never shone at Pittsburg,--as foreigners
who visit London in November declare that the sun never shines there.

Walking along the river-side I counted thirty-two steamers, all
beached upon the shore with their bows towards the land,--large
boats, capable probably of carrying from one to two hundred
passengers each, and about 300 tons of merchandise. On inquiry I
found that many of these were not now at work. They were resting
idle, the trade down the Mississippi below St. Louis having been
cut off by the war. Many of them, however, were still running,
the passage down the river being open to Wheeling in Virginia, to
Portsmouth, Cincinnati and the whole of South Ohio, to Louisville
in Kentucky, and to Cairo in Illinois, where the Ohio joins the
Mississippi. The amount of traffic carried on by these boats while
the country was at peace within itself was very great, and conclusive
as to the increasing prosperity of the people. It seems that
everybody travels in America, and that nothing is thought of
distance. A young man will step into a car and sit beside you, with
that easy, careless air which is common to a railway passenger
in England who is passing from one station to the next; and on
conversing with him you will find that he is going seven or eight
hundred miles. He is supplied with fresh newspapers three or four
times a day as he passes by the towns at which they are published; he
eats a large assortment of gum-drops and apples, and is quite as much
at home as in his own house. On board the river boats it is the same
with him, with this exception, that when there he can get whisky when
he wants it. He knows nothing of the ennui of travelling, and never
seems to long for the end of his journey, as travellers do with us.
Should his boat come to grief upon the river, and lie by for a day or
a night, it does not in the least disconcert him. He seats himself
upon three chairs, takes a bite of tobacco, thrusts his hands into
his trousers pockets and revels in an elysium of his own.

I was told that the stockholders in these boats were in a bad way at
the present time. There were no dividends going. The same story was
repeated as to many and many an investment. Where the war created
business, as it had done on some of the main lines of railroad and
in some special towns, money was passing very freely; but away from
this, ruin seemed to have fallen on the enterprise of the country.
Men were not broken-hearted, nor were they even melancholy; but they
were simply ruined. That is nothing in the States, so long as the
ruined man has the means left to him of supplying his daily wants
till he can start himself again in life. It is almost the normal
condition of the American man in business; and therefore I am
inclined to think that when this war is over, and things begin to
settle themselves into new grooves, commerce will recover herself
more quickly there than she would do among any other people. It is so
common a thing to hear of an enterprise that has never paid a dollar
of interest on the original outlay,--of hotels, canals, railroads,
banks, blocks of houses, &c., that never paid even in the happy days
of peace,--that one is tempted to disregard the absence of dividends,
and to believe that such a trifling accident will not act as any
check on future speculation. In no country has pecuniary ruin been
so common as in the States; but then in no country is pecuniary ruin
so little ruinous. "We are a recuperative people," a west-country
gentleman once said to me. I doubted the propriety of his word, but
I acknowledged the truth of his assertion.

Pittsburg and Alleghany, which latter is a town similar in its nature
to Pittsburg on the other side of the river of the same name, regard
themselves as places apart; but they are in effect one and the same
city. They live under the same blanket of soot, which is woven by the
joint efforts of the two places. Their united population is 135,000,
of which Alleghany owns about 50,000. The industry of the towns is of
that sort which arises from a union of coal and iron in the vicinity.
The Pennsylvanian coalfields are the most prolific in the Union;
and Pittsburg is therefore great, exactly as Merthyr-Tydvil and
Birmingham are great. But the foundry-work at Pittsburg is more
nearly allied to the heavy, rough works of the Welsh coal metropolis
than to the finish and polish of Birmingham.

"Why cannot you consume your own smoke?" I asked a gentleman there.
"Fuel is so cheap that it would not pay," he answered. His idea of
the advantage of consuming smoke was confined to the question of its
paying as a simple operation in itself. The consequent cleanliness
and improvement in the atmosphere had not entered into his
calculations. Any such result might be a fortuitous benefit, but was
not of sufficient importance to make any effort in that direction
expedient on its own account. "Coal was burned," he said, "in the
foundries at something less than two dollars a ton; while that was
the case, it could not answer the purpose of any iron-founder to put
up an apparatus for the consumption of smoke." I did not pursue the
argument any further, as I perceived that we were looking at the
matter from two different points of view.

Everything in the hotel was black; not black to the eye, for the eye
teaches itself to discriminate colours even when loaded with dirt,
but black to the touch. On coming out of a tub of water my foot took
an impress from the carpet exactly as it would have done had I trod
barefooted on a path laid with soot. I thought that I was turning
negro upwards, till I put my wet hand upon the carpet, and found that
the result was the same. And yet the carpet was green to the eye,--a
dull, dingy green, but still green. "You shouldn't damp your feet,"
a man said to me, to whom I mentioned the catastrophe. Certainly
Pittsburg is the dirtiest place I ever saw, but it is, as I said
before, very picturesque in its dirt when looked at from above the
blanket.

From Pittsburg I went on by train to Cincinnati, and was soon in the
State of Ohio. I confess that I have never felt any great regard for
Pennsylvania. It has always had in my estimation a low character for
commercial honesty, and a certain flavour of pretentious hypocrisy.
This probably has been much owing to the acerbity and pungency of
Sydney Smith's witty denunciations against the drab-coloured State.
It is noted for repudiation of its own debts, and for sharpness in
exaction of its own bargains. It has been always smart in banking. It
has given Buchanan as a President to the country, and Cameron as a
Secretary at War to the Government! When the battle of Bull's Run was
to be fought, Pennsylvanian soldiers were the men who, on that day,
threw down their arms because the three months' term for which they
had been enlisted was then expired! Pennsylvania does not in my mind
stand on a par with Massachusetts, Connecticut, New York, Illinois,
or Virginia. We are apt to connect the name of Benjamin Franklin
with Pennsylvania, but Franklin was a Boston man. Nevertheless,
Pennsylvania is rich and prosperous. Indeed it bears all those marks
which Quakers generally leave behind them.

I had some little personal feeling in visiting Cincinnati, because my
mother had lived there for some time, and had there been concerned in
a commercial enterprise, by which no one, I believe, made any great
sum of money. Between thirty and forty years ago she built a bazaar
in Cincinnati, which I was assured by the present owner of the house,
was at the time of its erection considered to be the great building
of the town. It has been sadly eclipsed now, and by no means rears
its head proudly among the great blocks around it. It had become
a "Physico-medical Institute" when I was there, and was under
the dominion of a quack doctor on one side, and of a college of
rights-of-women female medical professors on the other. "I believe,
sir, no man or woman ever yet made a dollar in that building; and as
for rent, I don't even expect it." Such was the account given of the
unfortunate bazaar by the present proprietor.

Cincinnati has long been known as a great town,--conspicuous among
all towns for the number of hogs which are there killed, salted, and
packed. It is the great hog metropolis of the western States; but
Cincinnati has not grown with the rapidity of other towns. It has
now 170,000 inhabitants, but then it got an early start. St. Louis,
which is west of it again, near the confluence of the Missouri and
Mississippi, has gone ahead of it. Cincinnati stands on the Ohio
river, separated by a ferry from Kentucky, which is a slave State.
Ohio itself is a free-soil State. When the time comes for arranging
the line of division, if such time shall ever come, it will be very
hard to say where northern feeling ends and where southern wishes
commence. Newport and Covington, which are in Kentucky, are suburbs
of Cincinnati; and yet in these places slavery is rife. The domestic
servants are mostly slaves, though it is essential that those so kept
should be known as slaves who will not run away. It is understood
that a slave who escapes into Ohio will not be caught and given up by
the intervention of the Ohio police; and from Covington or Newport
any slave can escape into Ohio with ease. But when that division
takes place, no river like the Ohio can form the boundary between
the divided nations. Such rivers are the highways, round which in
this country people have clustered themselves. A river here is not
a natural barrier, but a connecting street. It would be as well to
make a railway a division, or the centre line of a city a national
boundary. Kentucky and Ohio States are joined together by the Ohio
river, with Cincinnati on one side and Louisville on the other; and
I do not think that man's act can upset these ties of nature. But
between Kentucky and Tennessee there is no such bond of union. There
a mathematical line has been simply drawn, a continuation of that
line which divides Virginia from North Carolina, to which two latter
States Kentucky and Tennessee belonged when the thirteen original
States first formed themselves into a union. But that mathematical
line has offered no peculiar advantages to population. No great towns
cluster there, and no strong social interests would be dissevered
should Kentucky throw in her lot with the North, and Tennessee with
the South; but Kentucky owns a quarter of a million of slaves, and
those slaves must either be emancipated or removed before such a
junction can be firmly settled.

The great business of Cincinnati is hog-killing now, as it used to
be in the old days of which I have so often heard. It seems to be an
established fact, that in this portion of the world the porcine genus
are all hogs. One never hears of a pig. With us a trade in hogs and
pigs is subject to some little contumely. There is a feeling, which
has perhaps never been expressed in words, but which certainly
exists, that these animals are not so honourable in their bearings
as sheep and oxen. It is a prejudice which by no means exists in
Cincinnati. There hog killing and salting and packing are very
honourable, and the great men in the trade are the merchant princes
of the city. I went to see the performance, feeling it to be a duty
to inspect everywhere that which I found to be of most importance;
but I will not describe it. There were a crowd of men operating,
and I was told that the point of honour was to "put through" a hog
a minute. It must be understood that the animal enters upon the
ceremony alive, and comes out in that cleanly, disembowelled guise in
which it may sometimes be seen hanging up previous to the operation
of the pork-butcher's knife. To one special man was appointed a
performance which seemed to be specially disagreeable, so that he
appeared despicable in my eyes; but when on inquiry I learned that he
earned five dollars, or a pound sterling, a day, my judgment as to
his position was reversed. And after all what matters the ugly nature
of such an occupation when a man is used to it?

Cincinnati is like all other American towns, with second, third, and
fourth streets, seventh, eighth, and ninth streets, and so on. Then
the cross-streets are named chiefly from trees. Chesnut, walnut,
locust, &c. I do not know whence has come this fancy for naming
streets after trees in the States, but it is very general. The
town is well built, with good fronts to many of the houses, with
large shops and larger stores;--of course also with an enormous
hotel, which has never paid anything like a proper dividend to the
speculator who built it. It is always the same story. But these towns
shame our provincial towns by their breadth and grandeur. I am afraid
that speculators with us are trammelled by an "ignorant impatience of
ruin." I should not myself like to live in Cincinnati or in any of
these towns. They are slow, dingy, and uninteresting; but they all
possess an air of substantial, civic dignity. It must however be
remembered that the Americans live much more in towns than we do.
All with us that are rich and aristocratic and luxurious live in the
country, frequenting the metropolis for only a portion of the year.
But all that are rich and aristocratic and luxurious in the States
live in the towns. Our provincial towns are not generally chosen as
the residences of our higher classes.

Cincinnati has 170,000 inhabitants, and there are 14,000 children
at the free schools,--which is about one in twelve of the whole
population. This number gives the average of scholars throughout
the year ended 30th June, 1861. But there are other schools in
Cincinnati,--parish schools and private schools, and it is stated to
me that there were in all 32,000 children attending school in the
city throughout the year. The education at the State schools is very
good. Thirty-four teachers are employed, at an average salary of £92
each, ranging from £260 to £60 per annum. It is in this matter of
education that the cities of the free States of America have done so
much for the civilization and welfare of their population. This fact
cannot be repeated in their praise too often. Those who have the
management of affairs, who are at the top of the tree, are desirous
of giving to all an opportunity of raising themselves in the scale of
human beings. I dislike universal suffrage; I dislike vote by ballot;
I dislike above all things the tyranny of democracy. But I do like
the political feeling--for it is a political feeling--which induces
every educated American to lend a hand to the education of his
fellow-citizens. It shows, if nothing else does so, a germ of truth
in that doctrine of equality. It is a doctrine to be forgiven when
he who preaches it is in truth striving to raise others to his own
level;--though utterly unpardonable when the preacher would pull down
others to his level.

Leaving Cincinnati I again entered a slave State, namely, Kentucky.
When the war broke out Kentucky took upon itself to say that it would
be neutral, as if neutrality in such a position could by any means
have been possible! Neutrality on the borders of secession, on
the battle-field of the coming contest, was of course impossible.
Tennessee, to the south, had joined the South by a regular secession
ordinance. Ohio, Illinois, and Indiana to the north were of course
true to the Union. Under these circumstances it became necessary that
Kentucky should choose her side. With the exception of the little
State of Delaware, in which from her position secesssion would have
been impossible, Kentucky was, I think, less inclined to rebellion,
more desirous of standing by the North, than any other of the slave
States. She did all she could, however, to put off the evil day of so
evil a choice. Abolition within her borders was held to be abominable
as strongly as it was so held in Georgia. She had no sympathy and
could have none with the teachings and preachings of Massachusetts.
But she did not wish to belong to a Confederacy of which the northern
States were to be the declared enemy, and be the border State of the
South under such circumstances. She did all she could for personal
neutrality. She made that effort for general reconciliation of which
I have spoken as the Crittenden compromise. But compromises and
reconciliation were not as yet possible, and therefore it was
necessary that she should choose her part. Her Governor declared
for secession; and at first also her legislature was inclined to
follow the Governor. But no overt act of secession by the State
was committed, and at last it was decided that Kentucky should be
declared to be loyal. It was in fact divided. Those on the southern
border joined the secessionists, whereas the greater portion of the
State, containing Frankfort the capital and the would-be secessionist
Governor who lived there, joined the North. Men in fact became
unionists or secessionists, not by their own conviction, but through
the necessity of their positions; and Kentucky, through the necessity
of her position, became one of the scenes of civil war.

I must confess that the difficulty of the position of the whole
country seems to me to have been under-estimated in England. In
common life it is not easy to arrange the circumstances of a divorce
between man and wife, all whose belongings and associations have for
many years been in common. Their children, their money, their house,
their friends, their secrets, have been joint property and have
formed bonds of union. But yet such quarrels may arise, such mutual
antipathy, such acerbity and even ill-usage, that all who know them
admit that a separation is needed. So it is here in the States.
Free-soil and slave-soil could, while both were young and unused to
power, go on together,--not without many jars and unhappy bickerings;
but they did go on together. But now they must part; and how shall
the parting be made? With which side shall go this child, and who
shall remain in possession of that pleasant homestead? Putting
secession aside, there were in the United States two distinct
political doctrines, of which the extremes were opposed to each other
as pole is opposed to pole. We have no such variance of creed, no
such radical difference as to the essential rules of life between
parties in our country. We have no such cause for personal rancour
in our Parliament as has existed for some years past in both Houses
of Congress. These two extreme parties were the slave-owners of the
South and the abolitionists of the North and West. Fifty years ago
the former regarded the institution of slavery as a necessity of
their position,--generally as an evil necessity,--and generally also
as a custom to be removed in the course of years. Gradually they have
learned to look upon slavery as good in itself, and to believe that
it has been the source of their wealth and the strength of their
position. They have declared it to be a blessing inalienable,--that
should remain among them for ever,--as an inheritance not to be
touched, and not to be spoken of with hard words. Fifty years ago
the abolitionists of the North differed only in opinion from the
slave-owners of the South in hoping for a speedier end to this stain
upon the nation; and in thinking that some action should be taken
towards the final emancipation of the bondsmen. But they also have
progressed; and as the southern masters have called the institution
blessed, they have called it accursed. Their numbers have increased,
and with their numbers their power and their violence. In this way
two parties have been formed who could not look on each other without
hatred. An intermediate doctrine has been held by men who were nearer
in their sympathies to the slave-owners than to the abolitionists;
but who were not disposed to justify slavery as a thing apart. These
men have been aware that slavery has existed in accordance with the
constitution of their country, and have been willing to attach the
stain which accompanies the institution to the individual State
which entertains it, and not to the national Government, by which
the question has been constitutionally ignored. The men who have
participated in the Government have naturally been inclined towards
the middle doctrine; but as the two extremes have retreated further
from each other, the power of this middle-class of politicians has
decreased. Mr. Lincoln, though he does not now declare himself an
abolitionist, was elected by the abolitionists; and when, as a
consequence of that election, secession was threatened, no step which
he could have taken would have satisfied the South which had opposed
him, and been at the same time true to the North which had chosen
him. But it was possible that his Government might save Maryland,
Virginia, Kentucky, and Missouri. As Radicals in England become
simple Whigs when they are admitted into public offices, so did Mr.
Lincoln with his government become anti-abolitionist when he entered
on his functions. Had he combated secession with emancipation of
the slaves, no slave State would or could have held by the Union.
Abolition for a lecturer may be a telling subject. It is easy to
bring down rounds of applause by tales of the wrongs of bondage. But
to men in office, abolition was too stern a reality. It signified
servile insurrection, absolute ruin to all southern slave-owners, and
the absolute enmity of every slave State.

But that task of steering between the two has been very difficult. I
fear that the task of so steering with success is almost impossible.
In England it is thought that Mr. Lincoln might have maintained the
Union by compromising matters with the South,--or if not so, that he
might have maintained peace by yielding to the South. But no such
power was in his hands. While we were blaming him for opposition to
all southern terms, his own friends in the North were saying that
all principle and truth was abandoned for the sake of such States as
Kentucky and Missouri. "Virginia is gone; Maryland cannot go. And
slavery is endured and the new virtue of Washington is made to tamper
with the evil one, in order that a show of loyalty may be preserved
in one or two States which after all are not truly loyal!" That is
the accusation made against the government by the abolitionists; and
that made by us on the other side is the reverse. I believe that
Mr. Lincoln had no alternative but to fight, and that he was right
also not to fight with abolition as his battle-cry. That he may be
forced by his own friends into that cry, is, I fear, still possible.
Kentucky at any rate did not secede in bulk. She still sent her
senators to Congress, and allowed herself to be reckoned among
the stars in the American firmament. But she could not escape the
presence of the war. Did she remain loyal or did she secede, that was
equally her fate.

The day before I entered Kentucky a battle was fought in that State,
which gave to the northern arms their first actual victory. It was at
a place called Mill Spring, near Somerset, towards the south of the
State. General Zollicoffer, with a Confederate army, numbering, it
was supposed, some eight thousand men, had advanced upon a smaller
Federal force, commanded by General Thomas, and had been himself
killed, while his army was cut to pieces and dispersed; the cannon
of the Confederates were taken, and their camp seized and destroyed.
Their rout was complete; but in this instance again the advancing
party had been beaten, as had, I believe, been the case in all the
actions hitherto fought throughout the war. Here, however, had been
an actual victory, and it was not surprising that in Kentucky loyal
men should rejoice greatly, and begin to hope that the Confederates
would be beaten out of the State. Unfortunately, however, General
Zollicoffer's army had only been an offshoot from the main rebel army
in Kentucky. Buell, commanding the Federal troops at Louisville, and
Sydney Johnston, the Confederate General, at Bowling Green, as yet
remained opposite to each other, and the work was still to be done.

I visited the little towns of Lexington and Frankfort, in Kentucky.
At the former I found in the hotel to which I went seventy-five
teamsters belonging to the army. They were hanging about the great
hall when I entered, and clustering round the stove in the middle
of the chamber;--a dirty, rough, quaint set of men, clothed in a
wonderful variety of garbs, but not disorderly or loud. The landlord
apologized for their presence, alleging that other accommodation
could not be found for them in the town. He received, he said, a
dollar a day for feeding them, and for supplying them with a place in
which they could lie down. It did not pay him,--but what could he do?
Such an apology from an American landlord was in itself a surprising
fact. Such high functionaries are, as a rule, men inclined to tell
a traveller that if he does not like the guests among whom he finds
himself, he may go elsewhere. But this landlord had as yet filled the
place for not more than two or three weeks, and was unused to the
dignity of his position. While I was at supper, the seventy-five
teamsters were summoned into the common eating-room by a loud gong,
and sat down to their meal at the public table. They were very dirty;
I doubt whether I ever saw dirtier men; but they were orderly and
well-behaved, and but for their extreme dirt might have passed as the
ordinary occupants of a well-filled hotel in the West. Such men, in
the States, are less clumsy with their knives and forks, less astray
in an unused position, more intelligent in adapting themselves to a
new life than are Englishmen of the same rank. It is always the same
story. With us there is no level of society. Men stand on a long
staircase, but the crowd congregates near the bottom, and the lower
steps are very broad. In America men stand upon a common platform,
but the platform is raised above the ground, though it does not
approach in height the top of our staircase. If we take the average
altitude in the two countries, we shall find that the American heads
are the more elevated of the two. I conceived rather an affection for
those dirty teamsters; they answered me civilly when I spoke to them,
and sat in quietness, smoking their pipes, with a dull and dirty, but
orderly demeanour.

The country about Lexington is called the Blue Grass Region, and
boasts itself as of peculiar fecundity in the matter of pasturage.
Why the grass is called blue, and or in what way or at what period
it becomes blue, I did not learn; but the country is very lovely and
very fertile. Between Lexington and Frankfort a large stock farm,
extending over three thousand acres, is kept by a gentleman, who
is very well known as a breeder of horses, cattle, and sheep. He
has spent much money on it, and is making for himself a Kentucky
elysium. He was kind enough to entertain me for a while, and showed
me something of country life in Kentucky. A farm in that part of the
State depends, and must depend, chiefly on slave-labour. The slaves
are a material part of the estate, and as they are regarded by the
law as real property--being actually adstricti glebæ--an inheritor
of land has no alternative but to keep them. A 

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