The Portland daily press., 1869-02-17
A woman's Letters from Washington
TEppTrAPy 1870

A Woman's Letters from Washington
FEBRUARY, 1869.
To the Editor of the Independent
Attorney General Evarts has little reason
to suppose that he played an unpopular part
in the Impeachment Trial." if he may Judge
by the thousands who enter his house to en-
JOY its hospitality. The truth is, a man may
do as he pleases, be it good or ill; but, If he
have place and power, he will be followed,
courted, bowed down to, just the same, in
Washington. In no othar place in the land
does personal, individual merit count for so
little as here. Mr.. Public Man goes into the
country; Farmer Pudge has no use for Hon.
Public Man. He wants nothing of him-no de-
partment place, no passage OF bill, nothing
at all, save that Mr.. P. shou d be an honest
man and do his duty. That's the rubl Far
mer Fudge thinks the Hon. Public is not an
honest man and has not done his duty, and
treats him accordingly. He measures him
for just what he is, gauged by the Fudge con-
science. So with most of the good country
people; they are dissatisfied with Mr.. Public
Mans course in Congress, and have made up
their minds not to re-elect him. and their
manner towards him corresponds precisely
with their opinion of his individual merit;
or, perhaps they like him very well, on the
whole-are rather proud OF sour member"
Yet it does not occur to them to run after
him, to fatter, and toady, and buy him for
any personal purpose whatever. Among the
people he is judged by the accepted standards
OF manhood; is respected or despised
as he fulfs or fails to fulfil the test
In Washington a faithful few may cleaye
to his individual self; but the eager ten
thousand who "card" and call on him, who
send presents to his wife and bouquets to his
daughters-it is to the place and the power,
not to the man, that they more than meta.
pboricaly bend the knee. They'd bend it as
quickly to Beelzebub, provided he welded
these mighty adjuncts-infuence and place
And here in Washington they wouldn't SCALP
on the Angel Gabriel himself if he were "out
of Office" and could not blow his trumpet
| Thus cards fall faster than snow flakes into
the receivers of the newly-born to power
| Carriages block the street about their dwell
| ings. Gifts pour in upon them. But tue
functionarles who have had their day-tney
are left to the solitude of profitable medlta-
tions Madamel your back may rest, so may
| your throat and your weary tongue iou
| are inst as sweet woman as you were last
winter Those who love you know that; but
| the dear ten thousand who courtesied, and
smirked. and slipped your French chocolate
ont of dainty cups last season have forgotten
all about it. They are going through the
same gyTations in that parlor over yonder
lisping the same unmeaning COMPLIMENTS
With their eyes fixed upon the rising planet
how can they think of you? At least, they
don't. So they see the show, so they dance
at Vanity Fair, what matters it to them whC
nils the role, who pays the bills? Your par
iors are empty, your halls are silent. No car
| pet covers your sidewalk. No carriages blocl
the way. You are going out from this great
Washington house. With your trunks an6
your babies, you are going home. With your
husband whom you love you are going. back
to simpler and truer life-to the frienu, =.
who hald you dear for what you aie. ,o' ne'
nobody pity you. You are the haPPy W.
| man.