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I felt a little thrill of joy when, in the evening of yesterday, I beheld from the top of the Capitol of the United States the glorious panorama of the country around, through which wound the Potomac River, the whole lighted up by the golden light of evening: it was a magnificent sight. The situation of the Senate House, its environs, and the views from it are certainly the most beautiful   [p. 438]   which can be met with. And the representatives, who here make speeches for the country and the people, can not avoid being inspired by the view which is presented to their gaze; they must feel joy and pride that this is their country, and that it is in their power to work for its well-being.

I spent the evening in company with the American consul in Canada, a pleasant young man, Mr. Andrews, and with Miss Lynch. This agreeable young poetess is now in Washington, endeavoring to obtain from Congress a pension for her mother, the widow of a naval officer. The following day I visited, with her and Dr. Hebbe, a Swede who has resided several years in America, the Senate House, and the House of Representatives. The day was beautiful; the United States banner with its thirty-three stars, a star for each state, waved from the top of the Capitol, as is customary while Congress is sitting. It looked quite festal. The Senators sat in a large rotunda, well lighted by lofty windows, occupying one half of the room, and produced altogether a good and honest effect. The greater number of these gentlemen were of noble form, with a somewhat peculiar physiognomy and bearing, which, on the whole, was calm and dignified, but which nevertheless does not prevent occurrence of scenes which are considerably disturbing and unworthy of senatorial dignity. During the present session even, on one occasion, a strange and rather comic scene occurred between the senator from Missouri, Mr. Benton, and the senator from Mississippi, Mr. Foote, in which the former, a strong-built man, with an expression and beak-like countenance resembling a bird of prey, presented himself before the latter with a look and gesture that made the other, a little man of nervous excitability, draw forth a pistol, which he placed against Benton's breast. With this, the senator of Alabama said, quite coolly, "Give me that instrument," and forthwith disarmed Foote, when behold the pistol was   [p. 439]   --unloaded! The hawk and the dove were now both of them in their places in the Senate, and the quarrel between them seemed to be at an end; but I should not depend upon the hawk.

The two great statesmen, Clay and Webster, were both in the Senate, but neither of them spoke. I have already described to you the appearance of Clay; Daniel Webster bears a remarkable likeness to our deceased Archbishop Wallin, especially in the large deep-set eyes, and the strong, magnificent, arched forehead; but he is a handsomer man, and looks more massive. His head is really magnificent. Webster represents Massachusetts, and Clay Kentucky, in the Senate. As regards the great questions of contention between the North and the South in this country, Webster appears to be the representative of the moderate party in the North, and Clay of the moderate party in the South. The Senate is divided in the house into two portions. Each senator has a little desk before him, upon which paper and books are placed. The vice-president, who is speaker, and who sits upon a somewhat elevated platform in front of both parties, with the American eagle displayed above him, is a handsome, powerful figure, with an open, manly countenance. In the gallery appropriated to the public, and which inns round the house above the heads of the senators, the front seat, according to American politeness, is left for ladies, and one hears remarkably well from this gallery.

The House of Representatives produces a less striking effect. The space is much larger, and not so well lighted as that of the senators; the throng of people is much greater also, and they talk and behave in a much less dignified manner. The whole produced a chaotic impression on my mind; nor could I hear one single word from the gallery. The sound does not ascend clearly, and the worthy members talked with the rapidity of a torrent. I shook hands with many, both of the senators and the   [p. 440]   representatives They were all particularly polite and merry.

In the afternoon, the senator from New Hampshire took Miss Lynch and myself to the White House, the residence of the president, General Taylor, just out of the city, and where, in the Park, every Saturday afternoon, there is military music, and the people walk about at pleasure. The president was out among the crowd. I was introduced to him, and we shook hands. He is kind and agreeable, both in appearance and manner, and was simply, almost negligently, dressed. He is not considered to possess any great talent as a statesman, but is universally esteemed for the spotless purity of his character, and for his ability and humanity as a general. It was the Mexican war which made him president. His demeanor struck me as civil rather than military. Vice-president Fillmore, with whom also I became acquainted this evening, looks more of a president than Taylor.

The presidential residence is a handsome, palace-like house, yet of too simple a style to be called a palace, near the Potomac River. The situation and views are beautiful. The band played "The Star-spangled Banner," and other national airs. From three to four hundred persons, ladies, gentlemen, and children, strolled about on the grass and amid the trees; the evening was beautiful, the scene gay and delightful, and one of a true republican character: I enjoyed it, wandering arm in arm, now with one, now with another member of Congress, and shaking hands right and left. When people knew that I was fond of little children, many mothers and fathers brought their little ones to shake hands with me; this pleased me. The president was delighted with the children who leaped about so joyously and so free from care, or seated themselves on the green-sward. He seems to be between fifty and sixty, and is said to be tired of, and distressed by, the state of things and the contentions in the Union at this moment.

Later. I have just returned from the Capitol, where I have passed the forenoon, but where we walked about arm in arm with the senators, and talked with them much more than we listened to the speeches in the Senate; but I will do that before long. The entrance of California into the Union, with or without slavery, is the great contested question of the day, and which splits the North and the South into two hostile parties. No one knows as yet how the contest will end, and it is reported that the president said lately that all was dark. Henry Clay, who is endeavoring to bring about a compromise, and who has long labored for this purpose, has latterly set the whole Senate against him, it is said, by his despotic and overbearing behavior, and he is now quite worn out by the opposition he meets with from his colleagues. He complained bitterly of this to-day, when Anne Lynch and I called upon him before Congress. I had seen him the day before at the White House.

He now inquired from me about King Oscar, his character, his standing with the people, &c. So many trivial and insignificant questions are asked me, that it was now really refreshing to reply to inquiries which were earnest and had some purpose in them, and which were made with an earnest intention. And it was very pleasant to me to be able to tell Mr. Clay that we had in King Oscar a good and noble-minded monarch whom we loved. By what the American statesman knew respecting him and our Swedish political affairs, I could see the glance of genius, which requires but little knowledge to enable it to perceive and comprehend much.

While we were in the midst of this subject, the servant introduced an extraordinary little man with an extraordinary stick in his hand, which looked like a something between a knob-stick and an enchanter's wand--some sort of a curiosity out of the Great West! thought I. N.B. --We sat before the open door.

"Is this Henry Clay?" said the little man, planting himself with his great knob-stick just before the great statesman.

"Yes, sir, that is my name," said Clay, impatiently. "Sit down. What do you wish with me?"

The little man seated himself without any hesitation in an arm-chair, and I rose, saying that I feared to take up Mr. Clay's time.

"Oh, no, no!" said he, politely; "it is so refreshing to see ladies! But these fellows--I hate them!" and made a gesture toward the little man which would have sent him out of the room or have knocked him down if he could rightly have felt it. But he sat there, fast rooted to the ground, with his knob-stick in his hand, determined not to move, and I felt it necessary to leave the weary statesman to the witchcraft.

Clay, who is extremely popular, allows every one who comes to see him, and is thus overwhelmed by people who take up his time and make demands upon his services. He is at the present moment more irritable and impatient than he has ever been known before. The opposition he meets with may very well be the cause of it. What a life! And yet this it is for which men strive!

I visited the library of the Capitol to-day with the senator of Georgia, Judge Berrian, a witty and acute-minded man; a man who holds extreme pro-slavery views, but belonging to the class of patriarchs, I believe. The library is a large, handsome hall, with a glorious view; it is a public place of meeting during the sitting of Congress, where people may rest themselves from the affairs of state, talk with their acquaintances, &c. Here may be seen, every day, sitting in the recess of a window, at a table covered with books and papers, a lady of about middle age, an elegant figure, refined countenance, and agreeable expression. She seems to be always occupied, and to be in connection with several of the influential members of   [p. 443]   Congress, and there she sits watching the progress of her own affairs. What does she desire? What does she wish?

She wishes to have ten millions of dollars from the lands in the West, as an annual fund, to be appropriated for lunatic asylums and poor-houses in all the states of the Union.

It is Mrs. Dorothea Dix, who, during the last ten or twelve years, has traveled through most of the states, visited mad-houses and other asylums for the unfortunate, and done a great deal for their improvement, and in particular as regards the better treatment of the insane, through her influence, and the excellent memorials which she has drawn up and presented to the governors of the various states. Many asylums have been established where they formerly did not exist, and where the unfortunate were left to private care or in the most miserable neglect. The activity and influence of this lady is one of the most beautiful traits of female citizenship in the New World; but I shall tell you about her another time, perhaps, when we meet.

July 2d. Again home from the Capitol, where I have heard Clay and Webster, as well as several of the most distinguished senators. Clay speaks in an animated manner, and with strong feeling. I was not very much struck with his voice, of which I had heard so much praise. It seems to me that he often speaks too rapidly, so that the words are lost in the shrill sound of the voice. Webster speaks with great calmness, both in tone and demeanor, but there is an intensity of power in his manner. He has also this peculiarity as a speaker, and in this he also resembles Wallin, that he drops his voice and speaks all the lower, the deeper is the impression which he seeks to make. This is the very opposite of the general manner of American speakers, but it produces great effect. Other speakers interested me also; but I could hardly have any quietness to listen for introductions to and conversation   [p. 444]   with members of Congress. They were extremely polite, but I shall in future apply my ears to business, and leave to Anne Lynch that light conversation in which she is a mistress and I a bungler.

From the Capitol we drove to the house of the president, whose reception-day it was. We arrived late, so that we were alone with the old gentleman, who was very kind and affable, and related to us various things about the Southern Indians calculated to dissipate the somewhat too romantic idea of them entertained by Anne Lynch and myself. I fancied that I could see behind his polite affability a cloud of secret anxiety which he wished to suppress. His daughter, married to Colonel Bliss, appeared, in her white dress, unspeakably agreeable and lovely, with a quiet and refined manner.

I spent yesterday morning with Professor Henry, one of the most celebrated chemists in this country, and found in him a great admirer of Berzelius and Oersted, as well as an uncommonly amiable man. Vice-president Fillmore came in the evening; he is a very gentlemanly person, and shines greatly in conversation.

July 3d. I spent last evening with Daniel Webster at Mr. and Mrs. L.'s, the parents of Mrs. Schröder, a handsome old couple, together with various other persons. Webster does not look well; he has a sallow complexion, keeps himself much apart from others, is silent, and has a heavy and absent look. His charming and amiable wife placed herself beside me, wishing that I might have the pleasure of hearing him speak. He has extraordinary eyes; when they open and fix their gaze upon you, you seem to look into a catacomb full of ancient wisdom; but not much of this comes out into every-day conversation and social life, and that depth lies deep enough in that magnificently-formed head. The man himself seems to be perfectly simple, and without regard to the world's fashions--a very decided character; one which looks like   [p. 445]   what it is. He seems to me, however, to be one of those whose powers show themselves most beautifully on great and momentous occasions.

Anne Lynch said to-day that some one at the table d'hôte remarked, speaking of Daniel Webster, "That nobody was as wise as Webster looked." To which Judge Berrian immediately replied, "Not even Webster himself !" on which all laughed and applauded.

Anne Lynch and I sit at one corner of the table d'hôte, with Henry Clay between us, and on either hand various Southerners, so that I am, through my little friend, Anne, brought into the midst of the pro-slavery party. Yet Henry Clay can not be reckoned as belonging to that party.

I am living at present at the National Hotel, but shall soon remove to a private family, from which I received an invitation some time since. It is a horrible life of visiting here, and intolerably hot. But one has an opportunity of seeing and hearing various interesting people.

The senator of California--a man of giant stature, a magnificent specimen of the inhabitants of the Great West--has given me a breast-pin of Californian gold, the head of which is a nugget of gold in its native state, and in which, with a little help of the imagination, one can see an eagle about to raise its wings and fly from its eyrie.

And now, my little heart, I must close this long letter. I shall still remain fourteen days in Washington, after which I shall betake myself to the sea-side for a couple of weeks, and thus endeavor, by sea-bathing, to invigorate myself before I proceed further.

Instead of going hence westward, which would be dangerous and fatiguing in the great heats of summer, I now intend to go northward, to Maine and New Hampshire, perhaps also visit Canada, which young Mr. A. strongly advises, and then advance westward, by the great inland lakes to Chicago, and so on to the Scandinavian   [p. 446]   settlement, still further in the west; for I must ultimately visit them. Some riotous scenes have lately occurred in the Peasant Colony, and Erik Janssen, the prophet, has been killed by a Swede named Rooth. He might have maintained the respect of his people, but had a sad reputation around the colony.

Anne Lynch and I intend to spend to-morrow, the 4th of July, at Mount Vernon, the former country seat of Washington, and the place of his burial, and there quietly to celebrate the great day of the United States, the day on which the Declaration of Independence was made, and which is kept in all the states and cities with speechifying, drinking of toasts, and firing of guns.

In a week I shall leave the hotel, which is too hot and too populous for me, and where it is almost impossible to escape from company and company-life. My little friend, Miss Lynch, lives in it as in the breath of her life, and without the slightest coquetry, always attracts around her, by liveliness and good-humored wit, a crowd of people, mostly gentlemen. To these she often says many a little caustic truth, but so gayly that it seems to please them more than flattery. She has an especial facility for puns and sallies of wit, which always produce a lively effect, and infuse fresh air into the occasionally heavy or thunderous intellectual atmosphere. As for instance, on one occasion, when Clay, having excited himself against those who believed that, under his proposal of compromise, he concealed selfish views and designs for the presidentship, he added the protestation, "It is not in the power of mankind to offer any reward which would be a temptation to me!" On this Anne Lynch asked if he asserted the same as regarded "the power of womankind?" Clay smiled, and said that he would think about it; and his ill humor was gone.

Farewell, my child! I salute you and mamma.

I shall tell you in my next more about Congress and the gentlemen of Congress here.