American Notes for General Circulation

by Dickens, Chales

  public establishments, or any physician's dining-room during his

  hours of consultation at home.

  There were some fifteen or twenty persons in the room. One, a

  tall, wiry, muscular old man, from the west; sunburnt and swarthy;

  with a brown white hat on his knees, and a giant umbrella resting

  between his legs; who sat bolt upright in his chair, frowning

  steadily at the carpet, and twitching the hard lines about his

  mouth, as if he had made up his mind 'to fix' the President on what

  he had to say, and wouldn't bate him a grain. Another, a Kentucky

  farmer, six-feet-six in height, with his hat on, and his hands

  under his coat-tails, who leaned against the wall and kicked the

  floor with his heel, as though he had Time's head under his shoe,

  and were literally 'killing' him. A third, an oval-faced, biliouslooking

  man, with sleek black hair cropped close, and whiskers and

  beard shaved down to blue dots, who sucked the head of a thick

  stick, and from time to time took it out of his mouth, to see how

  it was getting on. A fourth did nothing but whistle. A fifth did

  nothing but spit. And indeed all these gentlemen were so very

  persevering and energetic in this latter particular, and bestowed

  their favours so abundantly upon the carpet, that I take it for

  granted the Presidential housemaids have high wages, or, to speak

  more genteelly, an ample amount of 'compensation:' which is the

  American word for salary, in the case of all public servants.

  We had not waited in this room many minutes, before the black

  messenger returned, and conducted us into another of smaller

  dimensions, where, at a business-like table covered with papers,

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  sat the President himself. He looked somewhat worn and anxious,

  and well he might; being at war with everybody - but the expression

  of his face was mild and pleasant, and his manner was remarkably

  unaffected, gentlemanly, and agreeable. I thought that in his

  whole carriage and demeanour, he became his station singularly

  well.

  Being advised that the sensible etiquette of the republican court

  admitted of a traveller, like myself, declining, without any

  impropriety, an invitation to dinner, which did not reach me until

  I had concluded my arrangements for leaving Washington some days

  before that to which it referred, I only returned to this house

  once. It was on the occasion of one of those general assemblies

  which are held on certain nights, between the hours of nine and

  twelve o'clock, and are called, rather oddly, Levees.

  I went, with my wife, at about ten. There was a pretty dense crowd

  of carriages and people in the court-yard, and so far as I could

  make out, there were no very clear regulations for the taking up or

  setting down of company. There were certainly no policemen to

  soothe startled horses, either by sawing at their bridles or

  flourishing truncheons in their eyes; and I am ready to make oath

  that no inoffensive persons were knocked violently on the head, or

  poked acutely in their backs or stomachs; or brought to a

  standstill by any such gentle means, and then taken into custody

  for not moving on. But there was no confusion or disorder. Our

  carriage reached the porch in its turn, without any blustering,

  swearing, shouting, backing, or other disturbance: and we

  dismounted with as much ease and comfort as though we had been

  escorted by the whole Metropolitan Force from A to Z inclusive.

  The suite of rooms on the ground-floor were lighted up, and a

  military band was playing in the hall. In the smaller drawingroom,

  the centre of a circle of company, were the President and his

  daughter-in-law, who acted as the lady of the mansion; and a very

  interesting, graceful, and accomplished lady too. One gentleman

  who stood among this group, appeared to take upon himself the

  functions of a master of the ceremonies. I saw no other officers

  or attendants, and none were needed.

  The great drawing-room, which I have already mentioned, and the

  other chambers on the ground-floor, were crowded to excess. The

  company was not, in our sense of the term, select, for it

  comprehended persons of very many grades and classes; nor was there

  any great display of costly attire: indeed, some of the costumes

  may have been, for aught I know, grotesque enough. But the decorum

  and propriety of behaviour which prevailed, were unbroken by any

  rude or disagreeable incident; and every man, even among the

  miscellaneous crowd in the hall who were admitted without any

  orders or tickets to look on, appeared to feel that he was a part

  of the Institution, and was responsible for its preserving a

  becoming character, and appearing to the best advantage.

  That these visitors, too, whatever their station, were not without

  some refinement of taste and appreciation of intellectual gifts,

  and gratitude to those men who, by the peaceful exercise of great

  abilities, shed new charms and associations upon the homes of their

  countrymen, and elevate their character in other lands, was most

  earnestly testified by their reception of Washington Irving, my

  dear friend, who had recently been appointed Minister at the court

  of Spain, and who was among them that night, in his new character,

  for the first and last time before going abroad. I sincerely

  believe that in all the madness of American politics, few public

  men would have been so earnestly, devotedly, and affectionately

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  caressed, as this most charming writer: and I have seldom

  respected a public assembly more, than I did this eager throng,

  when I saw them turning with one mind from noisy orators and

  officers of state, and flocking with a generous and honest impulse

  round the man of quiet pursuits: proud in his promotion as

  reflecting back upon their country: and grateful to him with their

  whole hearts for the store of graceful fancies he had poured out

  among them. Long may he dispense such treasures with unsparing

  hand; and long may they remember him as worthily!

  * * * * * *

  The term we had assigned for the duration of our stay in Washington

  was now at an end, and we were to begin to travel; for the railroad

  distances we had traversed yet, in journeying among these older

  towns, are on that great continent looked upon as nothing.

  I had at first intended going South - to Charleston. But when I

  came to consider the length of time which this journey would

  occupy, and the premature heat of the season, which even at

  Washington had been often very trying; and weighed moreover, in my

  own mind, the pain of living in the constant contemplation of

  slavery, against the more than doubtful chances of my ever seeing

  it, in the time I had to spare, stripped of the disguises in which

  it would certainly be dressed, and so adding any item to the host

  of facts already heaped together on the subject; I began to listen
<
br />   to old whisperings which had often been present to me at home in

  England, when I little thought of ever being here; and to dream

  again of cities growing up, like palaces in fairy tales, among the

  wilds and forests of the west.

  The advice I received in most quarters when I began to yield to my

  desire of travelling towards that point of the compass was,

  according to custom, sufficiently cheerless: my companion being

  threatened with more perils, dangers, and discomforts, than I can

  remember or would catalogue if I could; but of which it will be

  sufficient to remark that blowings-up in steamboats and breakingsdown

  in coaches were among the least. But, having a western route

  sketched out for me by the best and kindest authority to which I

  could have resorted, and putting no great faith in these

  discouragements, I soon determined on my plan of action.

  This was to travel south, only to Richmond in Virginia; and then to

  turn, and shape our course for the Far West; whither I beseech the

  reader's company, in a new chapter.

  CHAPTER IX - A NIGHT STEAMER ON THE POTOMAC RIVER. VIRGINIA ROAD,

  AND A BLACK DRIVER. RICHMOND. BALTIMORE. THE HARRISBURG MAIL,

  AND A GLIMPSE OF THE CITY. A CANAL BOAT

  WE were to proceed in the first instance by steamboat; and as it is

  usual to sleep on board, in consequence of the starting-hour being

  four o'clock in the morning, we went down to where she lay, at that

  very uncomfortable time for such expeditions when slippers are most

  valuable, and a familiar bed, in the perspective of an hour or two,

  looks uncommonly pleasant.

  It is ten o'clock at night: say half-past ten: moonlight, warm,

  and dull enough. The steamer (not unlike a child's Noah's ark in

  form, with the machinery on the top of the roof) is riding lazily

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  up and down, and bumping clumsily against the wooden pier, as the

  ripple of the river trifles with its unwieldy carcase. The wharf

  is some distance from the city. There is nobody down here; and one

  or two dull lamps upon the steamer's decks are the only signs of

  life remaining, when our coach has driven away. As soon as our

  footsteps are heard upon the planks, a fat negress, particularly

  favoured by nature in respect of bustle, emerges from some dark

  stairs, and marshals my wife towards the ladies' cabin, to which

  retreat she goes, followed by a mighty bale of cloaks and greatcoats.

  I valiantly resolve not to go to bed at all, but to walk up

  and down the pier till morning.

  I begin my promenade - thinking of all kinds of distant things and

  persons, and of nothing near - and pace up and down for half-anhour.

  Then I go on board again; and getting into the light of one

  of the lamps, look at my watch and think it must have stopped; and

  wonder what has become of the faithful secretary whom I brought

  along with me from Boston. He is supping with our late landlord (a

  Field Marshal, at least, no doubt) in honour of our departure, and

  may be two hours longer. I walk again, but it gets duller and

  duller: the moon goes down: next June seems farther off in the

  dark, and the echoes of my footsteps make me nervous. It has

  turned cold too; and walking up and down without my companion in

  such lonely circumstances, is but poor amusement. So I break my

  staunch resolution, and think it may be, perhaps, as well to go to

  bed.

  I go on board again; open the door of the gentlemen's cabin and

  walk in. Somehow or other - from its being so quiet, I suppose - I

  have taken it into my head that there is nobody there. To my

  horror and amazement it is full of sleepers in every stage, shape,

  attitude, and variety of slumber: in the berths, on the chairs, on

  the floors, on the tables, and particularly round the stove, my

  detested enemy. I take another step forward, and slip on the

  shining face of a black steward, who lies rolled in a blanket on

  the floor. He jumps up, grins, half in pain and half in

  hospitality; whispers my own name in my ear; and groping among the

  sleepers, leads me to my berth. Standing beside it, I count these

  slumbering passengers, and get past forty. There is no use in

  going further, so I begin to undress. As the chairs are all

  occupied, and there is nothing else to put my clothes on, I deposit

  them upon the ground: not without soiling my hands, for it is in

  the same condition as the carpets in the Capitol, and from the same

  cause. Having but partially undressed, I clamber on my shelf, and

  hold the curtain open for a few minutes while I look round on all

  my fellow-travellers again. That done, I let it fall on them, and

  on the world: turn round: and go to sleep.

  I wake, of course, when we get under weigh, for there is a good

  deal of noise. The day is then just breaking. Everybody wakes at

  the same time. Some are self-possessed directly, and some are much

  perplexed to make out where they are until they have rubbed their

  eyes, and leaning on one elbow, looked about them. Some yawn, some

  groan, nearly all spit, and a few get up. I am among the risers:

  for it is easy to feel, without going into the fresh air, that the

  atmosphere of the cabin is vile in the last degree. I huddle on my

  clothes, go down into the fore-cabin, get shaved by the barber, and

  wash myself. The washing and dressing apparatus for the passengers

  generally, consists of two jack-towels, three small wooden basins,

  a keg of water and a ladle to serve it out with, six square inches

  of looking-glass, two ditto ditto of yellow soap, a comb and brush

  for the head, and nothing for the teeth. Everybody uses the comb

  and brush, except myself. Everybody stares to see me using my own;

  and two or three gentlemen are strongly disposed to banter me on my

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  prejudices, but don't. When I have made my toilet, I go upon the

  hurricane-deck, and set in for two hours of hard walking up and

  down. The sun is rising brilliantly; we are passing Mount Vernon,

  where Washington lies buried; the river is wide and rapid; and its

  banks are beautiful. All the glory and splendour of the day are

  coming on, and growing brighter every minute.

  At eight o'clock, we breakfast in the cabin where I passed the

  night, but the windows and doors are all thrown open, and now it is

  fresh enough. There is no hurry or greediness apparent in the

  despatch of the meal. It is longer than a travelling breakfast

  with us; more orderly, and more polite.

  Soon after nine o'clock we come to Potomac Creek, where we are to

  land; and then comes the oddest part of the journey. Seven stagecoaches

  are preparing to carry us on. Some of them are ready, some

  of them are not ready. Some of the drivers are blacks, some

  whites. There are four horses to each coach, and all the horses,

  harnessed or unharnessed, are there. The passengers are getting

  out of the steamboat, and into the coaches; the luggage is being
<
br />   transferred in noisy wheelbarrows; the horses are frightened, and

  impatient to start; the black drivers are chattering to them like

  so many monkeys; and the white ones whooping like so many drovers:

  for the main thing to be done in all kinds of hostlering here, is

  to make as much noise as possible. The coaches are something like

  the French coaches, but not nearly so good. In lieu of springs,

  they are hung on bands of the strongest leather. There is very

  little choice or difference between them; and they may be likened

  to the car portion of the swings at an English fair, roofed, put

  upon axle-trees and wheels, and curtained with painted canvas.

  They are covered with mud from the roof to the wheel-tire, and have

  never been cleaned since they were first built.

  The tickets we have received on board the steamboat are marked No.

  1, so we belong to coach No. 1. I throw my coat on the box, and

  hoist my wife and her maid into the inside. It has only one step,

  and that being about a yard from the ground, is usually approached

  by a chair: when there is no chair, ladies trust in Providence.

  The coach holds nine inside, having a seat across from door to

  door, where we in England put our legs: so that there is only one

  feat more difficult in the performance than getting in, and that

  is, getting out again. There is only one outside passenger, and he

  sits upon the box. As I am that one, I climb up; and while they

  are strapping the luggage on the roof, and heaping it into a kind

  of tray behind, have a good opportunity of looking at the driver.

  He is a negro - very black indeed. He is dressed in a coarse

  pepper-and-salt suit excessively patched and darned (particularly

  at the knees), grey stockings, enormous unblacked high-low shoes,

  and very short trousers. He has two odd gloves: one of particoloured

  worsted, and one of leather. He has a very short whip,

  broken in the middle and bandaged up with string. And yet he wears

  a low-crowned, broad-brimmed, black hat: faintly shadowing forth a

  kind of insane imitation of an English coachman! But somebody in

  authority cries 'Go ahead!' as I am making these observations. The

  mail takes the lead in a four-horse waggon, and all the coaches

  follow in procession: headed by No. 1.

  By the way, whenever an Englishman would cry 'All right!' an