Here the three official delegates, with a few spectators, stand to witness the sight. Worn out, used up, gone by—all pass into the furnace, our dollar with the rest. The furnace is locked, by official hands, with nine distinct locks. A match is set to the shavings; the smoke of the sacrifice begins to ascend—the Committee depart. The fire and the money are left alone together for the next twenty-four hours. To-morrow a smutty aerolite, smothered in ashes, will be the significant “finis” of the story of our dollar. It has had its day!
CHAPTER XXXIII.
THE GREAT CASH-ROOM—THE WATCH-DOG OF THE TREASURY.
No Need for Dirty Money—The Flowers of July—Money Affairs—The Great Cash-Room—Its Marble Glories—A Glance Inside—The Beautiful Walls—A Good Deal of Very Bad Taste—Only Made of Plaster—The Clerks of the Cash-Room—New Money for Old—The National Treasury—“The Watch-Dog” of the Treasury—The Custodian of the Cash—A Broken-nosed Pitcher—Ink for the Autographs—His Ancient Chair—“The General”—“Crooked, Crotchety and Great-hearted”—“Principles” and Pantaloons—Below the Surface—An Unpaintable Face—An Object of Personal Curiosity—Dick and Dolly pay the General a Visit—How the Thing is Done—“Pretty Thoroughly Wrought Up”—A Couple without any Claims—Gratified in the Very Jolliest Fashion—Getting his Autograph—A Specimen for the Folks at Home—Realizing a Responsibility—Where the Treasurer Sleeps—Going the Round at Night—Making Assurance Sure—Awakened by a Strong Impression—Sleepless—In the “Small Hours”—Finding the Door Open—A Careless Clerk—The Care of Eight Hundred Millions—On the Alert—The Secretary’s Room—Three at the Table—Doings and Duties—The Labors of the Secretary and Comptrollers—The Auditors—The Solicitor’s Office—The Light-House Board—The Coast Survey—Internal Revenue Department.
Nobody need ever carry a smutty bit of money in Washington. Lay down the worst looking fraction you ever saw, upon the marble counter of the Cash-Room, and a virgin piece, without blemish, will be given you in its stead. Do you wish ten unsoiled “ones” for that ragged “ten” of yours? Take it to the Cash-Room, and the desire of your heart will be granted in a moment.
To do this you turn out of Pennsylvania avenue towards the north front of the Treasury. On either side, spread away broad beds of flowers. In April, their hyacinths sent great drifts of fragrance, blocks away; in May, it was one great garden of roses, and now it has burst into a passion of bloom, a very carnival of color—the burning scarlet of the geraniums mocking the dazzling azure of the sky. On either side run these lavish hues. Before you, cooling the marble court beneath your feet, the great fountain tosses its spray. Toward you stretches the long restful shadow of the northern portico, inviting you to enter in.
THE NEW MARBLE CASH ROOM, UNITED STATES TREASURY.—WASHINGTON.
The most costly and magnificent room of its kind in the world.
If your visit means “money,” as it may, you pass directly through the portico to the Cash-Room, into which it opens. No other room in the world as magnificent is devoted to such a purpose. It is seventy-two feet long, thirty-two feet wide, and twenty-seven feet six inches high. Exclusive of the upper cornice, the walls are built entirely of marble. Seven varieties meet and merge into each other, to make the harmony of its blended hues. From the main floor it rises through two stories of the building. Thus it has upper and lower windows, between which a narrow bronze gallery runs, encircling the entire room. The base of the stylobate of the first story is black Vermont marble, the mouldings are Bardiglio Italian, the styles dove Vermont marble, the panels Sienna Italian, and the dies Tennessee. Above the stylobate, the styles are of Sienna marble. With these are contrasted the pale primrose tints of the Corinthian pilasters and a cornice of white-veined Italian marble. Opposite the windows, and in corresponding positions at the ends of the rooms, are panels of the dark-veined Bardiglio Italian marble, the exact size of the windows. The stylobate and the styles and pilasters of the second story show the same tints and variety of marbles which mark the first. But the panels are of Sarran Golum marble, from the Pyrenees. The latter is one of the rarest of marbles; at a distance, of a blood-red hue. Upon nearer inspection, it reveals undreamed-of beauties in veining and tint.
The pilasters of the second story are not like those of the first story, pure—but complex. They support a cornice, not of wrought marble, as all the remainder of the room would promise, but of plaster of Paris, fantastically wrought and profusely gilded. This cornice is another blot of that meretricious ornamentation which in so many noble spaces disfigures the Capitol.
Extending the length of the room is a costly counter, of various marbles, surmounted by a balustrade of mahogany and plate-glass. Within this are busy the clerks of the Cash-Room, and over this marble counter you, as one of its many proprietors, may receive, for the asking, ten “ones” for one “ten”—new money for old.