, a low-crowned,
broad-brimmed silk hat, an immense white cravat like a poultice
thrusting the old-fashioned standing collar up to the ears, dressed in
black throughout, with swallow-tail coat not of the newest style. It was
President Buchanan, calling to take his successor to the Capitol. In a
few minutes he reappeared, with Mr. Lincoln on his arm; the two took
seats side by side, and the carriage rolled away, followed by a rather
disorderly and certainly not very imposing procession. I had ample time
to walk to the Capitol, and no difficulty in securing a place where
everything could be seen and heard to the best advantage. The attendance
at the inauguration was, they told me, unusually small; many being kept
away by anticipated disturbance, as it had been rumored--not without
good grounds--that General Scott himself was fearful of an outbreak, and
had made all possible military preparations to meet the emergency. A
square platform had been built out from the steps to the eastern
portico, with benches for distinguished spectators on three sides.
Senator Douglas, the only one I recognized, sat at the extreme end of
the seat on the right of the narrow passage leading from the steps.
There was no delay, and the gaunt form of the President-elect was soon
visible, slowly making his way to the front. To me, at least, he was
completely metamorphosed--partly by his own fault, and partly through
the efforts of injudicious friends and ambitious tailors. He was raising
(to gratify a very young lady, it is said) a crop of whiskers, of the
blacking-brush variety, coarse, stiff, and ungraceful; and in so doing
spoiled, or at least seriously impaired, a face which, though never
handsome, had in its original state a peculiar power and pathos. On the
present occasion the whiskers were reinforced by brand-new clothes from
top to toe; black dress coat instead of the usual frock; black cloth or
satin vest, black pantaloons, and a glossy hat evidently just out of the
box. To cap the climax of novelty, he carried a huge ebony cane, with a
gold head the size of an egg. In these, to him, strange habiliments, he
looked so miserably uncomfortable that I could not help pitying him.
Reaching the platform, his discomfort was visibly increased by not
knowing what to do with hat and cane; and so he stood there, the target
for ten thousand eyes, holding his cane in one hand and his hat in the
other, the picture of helpless embarrassment. After some he