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[From our Washington Correspondent]
To the Editors of the "Jewish Messenger."
According to promise, I will now give you some account of the evening I
passed at the President's levee, which was made more than usually entertaining by
the good company of my friend, your friend, and in fact everybody's friend, as he delights
in styling himself, A. Chootsper, Esq.
At nine o'clock of the evening aforesaid, Chootsper and I found ourselves
comfortably seated in a carriage, patiently waiting our chance of having our backs broken,
by the pole of the vehicle just in our rear, or what seemed equally probably, a bivouac
for the night, then and there without hope of relief. But a better fate awaited us, and
after sundry fearful rubs, tiltings, and jerks, together with ejaculations from our
driver, more original than select, we were finally popped out like anxious peas from a
well filled pod, under the beautiful portico of the President's mansion. Mr. Jehu, as a
matter of course, demanded double his lawful fare, but we soon "compromised" the
matter, by handing the correct sum, with a trifle over, for the extra wear and tear of his
carriage and conscience.
You are aware that the White House is open at all reasonable times for the
reception of the public, and at no time is the hospitality go generally availed of, as on
the last Levee—as was this—of the season, so we were not surprised to find the
impromptu hat and coat room, (ordinarily the vestibule) filled to overflowing. Without
ceremony, we fell in with the surging mass, drifting to the right of the entrance, and
soon realized what must be the injured feelings of social, but ill used sardines, when
under uncomfortable pressure. Moving on at such a very slow pace, gave us a favorable
opportunity for examination of persons and dresses, and after Chootsper had ended his five
minutes; examination of a shirt collar, immediately in front of us, which he declared
would decapitate its owner the very next time he duplicated that bow,— he
condescendingly began some running, or rather slow walking, comments, which I will give a
meager outline of, and at the same time give you to distinctly understand, that upon
Chootsper alone the responsibility, if any, rests.
Do you see that tall, jolly faced Englishman, laughing so heartily with
that pretty, merry eyed lady, in yonder corner? Well, that is Her Majesty's able and
popular Minister and his companion, a Mrs. Senator, from the State of Camden and Amboy,
which, you are aware, is said to receive its support, in no spirit of monopoly, from a
public high-way of the same name. —Ah! There's our old acquaintance, who has
been studying the "Blue Book" ever since the election, and is, as yet, undecided
whether an appointment of Collector of the Customs of some such suburban village as New
York, would not be derogatory to his position as the leading man of Shoflesville;
probably, the grey-haired, easy mannered gentleman, with a large nose "not to be
sneezed at," or if sneezed at, capable of returning the attention with an annoyingly
cooling effect—"they say" (who knows everything) he is to be the Premier
of the new Administration—probably, he is begging our friend to accept office,
for at the North, you know, it is so difficult to find persons willing to give their pure
patriotism in exchange for mere dollars and cents.—See that remarkably frisky young lady
with angular neckbones, rich jewelry and extravagant dress. She hails from the Quaker
City, and has recently united her immense wealth with the high social standing of an
attaché of one of the foreign Legations, who, with most of his associates, are becoming
round shouldered under the excessive weight—not of responsibility, but—of their gold and
silver rosettes and various other "orders" of their country. In this room, for
you must know we are going with the crowd through a number of rooms, opening one into
another, are a number of "Milingtary" gentlemen, standing as though they were
saying a perpetual shemona esray, and smiling lavishly at a host of admiring
young ladies, who, like their sex generally, dote on the sons of Mars, strange to say even
more than they do on the sons of their Pa's, (Chootsper, bear in mind, is responsible for
all this, and I hope you will forgive him, as I have done.)
Imperceptibly we have at last reached the "Green Room," where
His Excellency, the host, with hospitable freedom, and head on one side, is lending his
hand as a sort of pump handle, and putting the stereotyped question to each stranger
particularly presented, "This your first visit to Washington,—have you visited the
Patent Office?" and such other laconic sentences as occasion requires. A short
distance, further on, stands his niece, Miss Lane, who presides with so much dignity as
hostess—a pleasant word and a generous smile she has for all, and I couldn't, for the
life of me, see a fault, until Chootsper compelled me, by several energetic pinches in the
regions of my coat sleeve, to listen to a criticism being made upon her by our
file-leader, in the person of a raw-boned dyspeptic lady, habited in a flounced dress,
which bore a striking resemblance to a gaily painted, inverted whip-top, the property of a
much shorter member of the family;—but I will not repeat her spiteful allusions. Next we
enter the grant "East Room," where a truly elegant sight presented itself!—but
as I have already extended this letter longer than I should, and have yet to speak on
another subject, I can merely add, as a remarkable fact, that probably no where else could
be seen so large and well dressed a company of ladies and gentlemen assembled, where every
and any one, without passing through the slightest examination, is free to enter, and
where I have yet to hear the first instance of a breach of decorum. How well does this
speak for Democracy! At 10 o'clock, the U.S. Marine Band, which had discoursed such
spirited music during the entire evening, began the plaintive air of "Home sweet
Home," upon which the company, including Chootsper and I, regained our hats and
coats, and shivered in the cold until hack 4972 slowly picked itself out of a tight knot,
and safely landed us from whence we came.
Last Sabbath, I was so fortunate as to witness the very interesting
ceremony of calling to our Holy Law, for the first time, Master Simon, son of our worthy
townsman, Mr. Joseph Joseph, who, with a seeming consciousness of the grave duties he had
been called upon to fulfill, delivered an address as admirable in manner as in matter,
taking for his theme "Remember now thy Creator in the days of thy youth;" in
which he exhorted his young friends to turn their liberal education to good account, by
schooling their minds in the belief that all real happiness, here and hereafter,
is primarily based on the duty each and every one owes to his God and the Laws, He has,
for our good, commanded us to obey. In allusion to our present political
troubles, he said in effect, "the tendency of moral influence on political action in
our country seems to be continually downward, and if it be not quickly and effectually
arrested, it must, ere long, sweep away our free institutions, and bring upon our beloved
country, Revolution, Anarchy,—the desolating scourge of Civil war—the iron hand of
Despotism. He dared not anticipate the time when licentiousness and violence, stimulated
by mad ambition and lust of power, may traverse our country and deluge it in blood, but
would rather turn from such a gloomy picture as a mere optical delusion, and look upon a
brighter scene." In conclusion, he indulged the hope, that some mighty moral
influence, under the fostering hand of a kind Providence, may stay the wicked in their mad
career, sustain our Heaven-born Institutions, and save our beloved country.
SEMI-OCCASIONAL
Washington, D.C., March 3, 1861
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