Shaping Legislation for the District of Columbia.

Washington, April 29, 1873.

Before the present form of government was inaugurated, Washington, in every respect, resembled a gambling or watering spa. A session of Congress might be termed “the season.” It was called a city through courtesy, because in reality it was only a straggling, awkward village. The brute creation traversed its streets, whilst forlorn pedestrians picked their way over disjointed sidewalks. The greater proportion of its people were made up of “birds of passage.” The citizen proper, if caught, was found to belong to one or the other of the two extremes of the social scale. He might be of the line of Lord Baltimore, with the blue blood of a foreign aristocracy coursing through his attenuated frame; but the chances are that he was some poor artisan or shopkeeper, who picked up a precarious living existing on the double-distilled crumbs which fell from Uncle Sam’s table.

Washington had no such electric life as Philadelphia enjoys, imparted to her by her commerce and manufactures. When Congress expired, the city, like a lazy bear, snuggled down to its long, snoozey sleep, and when waking-time came, like poor Bruin, it found nothing left but its claws. In its famished condition it took a great many strangers and Congressmen to fill the aching void. But gone are the lawmakers and Credit Mobiliers! Vanished the bare shoulders and Paris frippery! But Washington, newly baptized and regenerated, takes her place in the long line of sister cities whose foundations are securely laid by the strong hands of her permanent citizens.

Yesterday our new legislature met for the third time. The hall consecrated to the delegates and members of the council was filled with well-dressed, fine-looking men, adorned with shining beavers and immaculate boots. They occupied all available space on the floor; they poured over long flights of stairs, and spread out in a broad expanse of human life on the pavement below. “These,” said a bystander, “are taxpayers of the District,” and the response came quick, “This is the real Washington, wide-awake!”

In an upper room of the same building at the same hour the council meet. This nice little body is called together by the governor, a president is then elected who presides during the session, and altogether considerable honor is evoked from a small outlay, and in the meantime the siestas and summer comforts of the principal heads of the government need not be disturbed.

Below, in the house of delegates, the excitement deepens. The opposing candidates seem to have equal strength. The fight is all within the limits of one party. The three Democrats look around as innocently as if they were not inwardly praying for the fate of the Kilkenny cats to overtake their opponents. Two women are seen, each with a delegate fastened securely by the buttonhole. They are both genuine ladies—one being the wife of a leading United States Senator, the other known in Washington and elsewhere for her disinterested labors in behalf of the poor and unfortunate of her own sex. What does it all mean? One of the gentle lobbyists is interrogated:

“We have two men up as candidates for speaker; one is a good husband and father. He is with us in all our works of reform. He believes in doing as much for women as for men. The other is bad—just as bad as he can be. He loves women because they are women.”

“Isn’t that every man’s fault?”

“Oh, yes! but just look at him. He believes in keeping us women down, denying us the rights which the Creator designed for us.”

“If we are to judge men by their looks I cannot see where the other candidate has the advantage. They both look as if they didn’t exactly realize the difference between women and peaches.”

The woman continued: “I know one to be a good man, and I am going to work for him. Excuse me, here comes one of the doubtful delegates. I must speak to him.”

The delegate is arrested in his onward flight, and proves to be one of the ablest men in the house, as well as an accomplished gentleman.

“I learn, Mr. H——, that you are going to desert us?”

“Desert the ladies?—never!”

“I mean that you are going for Shepherd?”

“That is another thing. I have thought the matter over seriously, and whilst I don’t approve of all the deeds done by the board of public works, upon the whole I must give them my hearty support.”

“But you know my candidate is a good man.”

The tall, handsome biped looked down on the little woman, and his eyes twinkled whilst he said: “We are all good men.”

At this moment the other candidate came up—the poor, bad man who had no woman like Mungo Park to bring him milk and grind him corn.

“You know, Mr. Shepherd, that I have opposed you from the start. I have been doing all I could; I don’t deny it.”

The great, sharp, white teeth close over the red under lip, as if a laugh must be strangled regardless of consequences.

“I know it; but I cannot understand your opposition. I love the ladies; I always have.”

“That may be; but you opposed our movement. When you were editor of the Republican you made fun of me.”

“But you must know an editor cannot oversee everything that goes into his paper.”

“But the tone of the paper I complain of.”

“I do not oppose the movement of reform, but I earnestly object to the manner in which you intend to bring it about! but I must go. I hope you will think better of me,” and the jolly figure and winning face disappears.

The delegate who spoke so earnestly in favor of the board of public works pauses to be introduced to the Senator’s wife. As he is about to depart the writer asked his opinion in regard to woman coming to such a place to influence “legislation.”

“I rather like it.”

“Do not let your gallantry get the better of truth. For my part I oppose it, for this reason, we accomplish nothing. Every Samson on this floor ought to have had his ambrosial locks sheared before he came here. Would the old Scriptural giant have held still in public whilst that sly puss, Delilah, was engaged in her artistic work?

“I cannot think of anything that would tempt me to be found here to influence legislation. I came with my pen to make a picture for The Press, just as I shall go to the Virginia hills, with my pencil and portfolio, when the weather becomes fine.”

“This is a serious subject; but I am inclined to ask the women to go with us wherever we are obliged to go. I have had a good deal to do with politics since the new government was inaugurated, and we have had some pretty stormy times. We have had our meetings broken up with howls and hootings, and it seemed as if anarchy had come. One night we called a meeting in one of the worst wards of the city, where we had all along been able to accomplish little or nothing. I knew something out of the ordinary way must be done. So a short time before the call was made I gave out that upon such an evening there would be a meeting at a certain church in the neighborhood; that a portion of the gallery would be set aside for the ladies. The colored men were especially invited to bring their wives and daughters. I then called upon my political friends and told them how matters stood, and urged them to tell their wives what we were trying to do. The ladies, God bless them! put on their Sunday bonnets and good dresses and came out; the colored women did the same, and the meeting in that ward was the event of the season. Everything passed off pleasantly, and we went home better men.”

“According to your story, not quite all of you are good men.”

“Yes; in the presence of some women we are all good men; the night I have been talking about proves it.”

All this took place before the gavel sounded. When the last blow fell, Edwin L. Stanton arose in his seat and called the assembly together. From various directions came twenty-two men differing in race, color, condition, and servitude. The tall, haughty Caucasian, with his thin nostril and flowing beard, was followed by the inky African so lately held in bondage; but the procession was finished by the chain which the Almighty has forged to bind the white parent to the black one in the shape of a man in bronze. In the solemn stillness a semi-circle was formed, and twenty-two right hands pointed upward whilst Justice Carter administered the oath to support the Constitution. Whilst the Judge was reading, the circle began to melt, and when he came to the part which relates to the taking of bribes in exchange for votes, every white man and black man had disappeared. But that most solemn obligation was to be subscribed to by a solitary mortal who stood like a fixed star in his place. Down on your knees to the man who stands by the right! God help us! It was the man in bronze.

Olivia.