Atlantic Monthly, Vol. 7, No. 39, January, 1861 | Page 6

known
only by report; in all probability it is a myth. It is worthy of remark that
the circles of the White House and the Hotels rise higher and sink lower
than that of the Mudsill, but whether this is a fact or a mere necessity of
the diagram is not known.
Society, such as it is, in the metropolis, is indulgent to itself. It
intermeddles not, asks no impertinent questions, and transacts its little
affairs in perfect peace and quietude. Vigilant as the Inquisition in
matters political, it is deaf and blind, but not dumb, as to all others. It
dresses as it pleases, drinks as much as it chooses, eats indiscriminately,
sleeps promiscuously, gets up at all hours of the day, and does as little
work as possible. Its only trouble is that "incomparable grief" to which
Panurge was subject, and "which at that time they called lack of
money." In truth, the normal condition of Washington society is, to use
a vernacular term, "busted." It is not an isolated complaint. Everybody
is "busted." No matter what may be the state of a man's funds when he
gets to Washington, no matter how long he stays or how soon he leaves,
to this "busted" complexion must he come at last. He is in Rome; he
must take the consequences. Shall he insult the whole city with his
solvency? Certainly not. He abandons his purse and his conscience to
the madness of the hour, and, in generous emulation of the prevailing
recklessness and immorality, dismisses every scruple and squanders his
last cent. Then, and not till then, does he feel himself truly a
Washington-man, able to look anybody in the face with the serene
pride of an equal, and without the mortification of being accused or
even suspected of having in all the earth a dollar that he can call his

own.
Where morals are loose, piety is seldom in excess. But there are a
half-dozen of churches in Washington, besides preaching every Sunday
in the House of Representatives. The relative size and cost of the
churches, as compared with the Public Buildings, indicates the true
object of worship in Washington. Strange to say, the theatre is smaller
than the churches. Clerical and dramatic entertainments cannot compete
with the superior attractions of the daily rows in Congress and the
nightly orgies at the faro-banks. Heaven is regarded as another
Chihuahua or Sonora, occupied at present by unfriendly Camanches,
but destined to be annexed some day. In the mean time, a very
important election is to come off in Connecticut or Pennsylvania. That
must be attended to immediately. Such is piety in Washington.
The list of the unique prodigies of Washington is without limit. But
marvels heaped together cease to be marvellous, and of all places in the
world a museum is the most tiresome. So, amid the whirl and roar of
winter-life in Washington, when one has no time to read, write, or think,
and scarcely time to eat, drink, and sleep, when the days fly by like
hours, and the brain reels under the excitement of the protracted
debauch, life becomes an intolerable bore. Yet the place has an intense
fascination for those who suffer most acutely from the tedium vitae to
which every one is more or less a prey; and men and women who have
lived in Washington are seldom contented elsewhere. The moths return
to the flaming candle until they are consumed.
In conclusion, it must be admitted that Washington is the Elysium of
oddities, the Limbo of absurdities, an imbroglio of ludicrous anomalies.
Planned on a scale of surpassing grandeur, its architectural execution is
almost contemptible. Blessed with the name of the purest of men, it has
the reputation of Sodom. The seat of the law-making power, it is the
centre of violence and disorder which disturb the peace and harmony of
the whole Republic,--the chosen resort for duelling, clandestine
marriages, and the most stupendous thefts. It is a city without
commerce and without manufactures; or rather, its commerce is illicit,
and its manufacturers are newspaper-correspondents, who weave
tissues of fiction out of the warp of rumor and the web of prevarication.
The site of the United States Treasury, it is the home of everything but
affluence. Its public buildings are splendid, its private dwellings

generally squalid. The houses are low, the rents high; the streets are
broad, the crossings narrow; the hacks are black, the horses white; the
squares are triangles, except that of the Capitol, which is oval; and the
water is so soft that it is hard to drink it, even with the admixture of
alcohol. It has a Monument that will never be finished, a Capitol that is
to have a dome, a Scientific Institute which does nothing but report the
rise