“Because our terms are too high; they can get board cheaper at a boarding-house. We entertain generally but transient people,—lobby-members; gentlemen with their families, who come here to spend the season; now and then a letter-writer, though these are usually stopping at Brown’s; and perhaps occasionally a spy.”
“And are all these men better able to pay for their board than senators and representatives of Congress?”
“Whether they be better able to pay, I know not; they seem at least to be more willing to do so. If they have not got money, they ‘hire’ it. Washington is the ‘ruination’ place of the United States. Many a man comes here in tolerable circumstances, and leaves the place as a beggar, with his money spent, and his business neglected. So much for politics!”
“That’s no very flattering picture of your town.”
“Why, sir,” said one of the gentlemen near me, “how many persons do you think are solvent in this city?”
“I will hope a great many.”
“I do not think,” replied he, “there are six persons in town able to pay their debts, if their estates were to be settled to-morrow. The corporation itself has more debts than it can conveniently manage. There is not a city in the Union as badly off as ours.”
“And then what a continual influx of paupers!” interrupted the bar-keeper; “all coming here to seek office, to see the President, and to avail themselves of their acquaintance with one or the other member, to obtain a place for themselves or one of their relations. Would you believe that people come here from a distance of from six hundred to a thousand miles, to hunt an appointment of six hundred dollars a year; and that, in order to enable them to get home again, after they have spent their last farthing, the President is often obliged to pay their passage out of his own pocket?”
“I can testify to that,” said one of the gentlemen; “General Jackson has done so more than once. When they first come here, they expect nothing less than an appointment of two thousand dollars a year; but by degrees their expectations become more moderate: they would then be satisfied with a clerkship; by and by with a still more subordinate station; and at last they would be glad if any one would pay their bill, and enable them to get home again. I remember a most remarkable story, which was current here shortly after the election of General Jackson, and which is singularly characteristic of the notions of our people as respects the power of the executive.
“One morning, scarcely a fortnight after the General’s arrival at the White-house, a shabby-genteel looking man presented himself at his parlour, and, after the usual salutation and shaking of hands, expressed his joy at seeing the venerable old gentleman at last hold the situation of chief magistrate of the country, to which his bravery, his talents, and his unimpeachable rectitude fully entitled him. ‘We have had a hard time of it,’ said he, ‘in our little place; but our exertions were unremitting: I myself went round to stimulate my neighbours, and at last the victory was ours. We beat them by a majority of ten votes, and I now behold the result of that glorious triumph!’ The General thanked him in terms of studied politeness, assuring him that he would resign his office in an instant if he did not think his election gave satisfaction to a vast majority of the people; and at last regretted his admirer’s zeal for the public weal should have been so severely taxed on his account. ‘Oh, no matter for that, sir!’ said he; ‘I did it with pleasure,—I did it for myself and for my country’ (the General bowed); ‘and I now come to congratulate you on your success’ (the General bowed again). ‘I thought, sir,’ continued he, ‘that, as you are now President of the United States, I might perhaps be useful to you in some official capacity.’ (The General looked somewhat embarrassed.) ‘Pray, sir, have you already made a choice of your cabinet ministers?’—‘I have,’ was the reply of the General.—‘Well, no matter for that; I shall be satisfied with an embassy to Europe,’—‘I am sorry to say there is no vacancy.’—‘Then you will perhaps require a head-clerk in the department of State?’—‘These are generally appointed by the respective secretaries.’—‘I am very sorry for that: then I must be satisfied with some inferior appointment.’—‘I never interfere with these: you must address yourself to the heads of departments.’—‘But could I not be postmaster in Washington? Only think, General, how I worked for you!’—‘I am much obliged to you for the good opinion you entertain of me, and for your kind offices at the last election; but the postmaster for the city of Washington is already appointed.’—‘Well, I don’t particularly care for that; I should be satisfied With being his clerk.’—‘This is a subject you must mention to the postmaster.’—‘Why, then, General,’ exclaimed the disappointed candidate for office, ‘haven’t you got an old black coat?’ You may well imagine that the General gave him one.