Wyman, Tuttle and Spinner Guard the Treasury Deposits—Jewels in Storage.

Washington, December 28, 1870.

From time to time fabulous stories have been afloat in Washington concerning the secret of the United States Treasury vaults. It has been whispered by certain snowy-locked clerks who have been noted for years for strictest veracity that hidden away in the dust and darkness of a certain vault might be found jewels that would vie with or possibly eclipse those found in the diamond cave by Sinbad the Sailor. Hidden away in the wooden boxes, it has been said that pearls as large as pigeon’s eggs have nestled, their waxen beauty undisturbed by human eyes, whilst diamonds, both great and small, have winked and blinked without awakening a shaft of feminine envy. In this same vault it has been known that parcel after parcel has reposed, whilst hands that placed them there have crumbled into dust, and the mystery connected with them has been lost to this generation forever.

In this connection it must be mentioned that this particular vault is the ninth in the Treasury calendar, and it bears a resemblance to a bottomless pit, because heretofore anything under the head of “special deposits” placed therein has never been heard of again.

Amongst other bits of dainty information, it may be chronicled that the famous Field medal was placed here for safe keeping. Once while Andy Johnson was President an order came from “headquarters” to send the medal to the White House for inspection. The medal left the building, but was returned, unknown to some of the lawful custodians of the place.

It has been the habit from time immemorial to never disturb the ashes of the sepulchre; hence the Field medal rested, but no great harm ensued. It is true, Andy’s reputation for a brief time was under a passing cloud, and the hardest worked man in the country was accused of not reading the newspapers; and here the mischief ends, because the same plates were used to make a new medal, whilst the first one is worth its weight of precious metal, and only a small amount of human labor is lost.

But in order to have a thorough understanding of this mysterious conglomeration of metal, mortar and stone, a description of the men who know the secret of the locks should be forthcoming. Nine locks are concealed in the solid door, and each more desperate and secret than the other. Three men only in the country understand this wonderful combination, but as it is an established fact that no one ever dies or resigns in the Treasury, there need be no fear of a national calamity. United States Treasurer Spinner, Assistant Treasurer Tuttle, and Cashier Wyman are the men designated for the awful duty. As it would stretch this article to a most unreasonable length to do anything like justice to the lives and duties of these faithful public men, it is only necessary to say that General Spinner is the most honest, bluff, inflexible servant that the people ever employed; that he gives out the same kind of metallic ring as one of his own gold coins when properly tested. Assistant Treasurer Tuttle bears the same relation to the Treasury Department that one of Hoe’s cylinder presses does to a newspaper office, and that he is a rare combination of faithfulness, strictest integrity, business talent, and hard work, is a fact never disputed in Washington. Cashier Wyman is the third man of the trio whose business it is to hold the awful keys, and he guards the Treasury vaults just as Cerebus is said to stand sentinel over a remote region, though instead of three heads only one is visible. Whilst Treasurer Spinner and his able assistant know the secret of the locks, it is Cashier Wyman who daily performs the necessary duties connected with them, and he who goes through the awful door must pass his body, dead or alive. During the recent interesting investigations it gave every indication of life.

Treasurer Spinner says: “There is nothing in my Department that I’m not willing the people should know all about, unless it is something under seal turned over to me for safe keeping by the War Department. Some things are here subject to an order from the Secretary of War. I don’t know myself what is in the vault. I think the Secretary had better send some one, and, with others of this office, a thorough understanding can be had, and the authorities will know what is best to do in the matter.”

One gloomy afternoon the work of investigation began. The first object that saw the light of day was a box as elfish as the one dragged from the sea by the fishermen, but instead of being made of copper and fastened with the seal of the great Solomon, it was bound with red tape and bore the waxen seal of some deceased Secretary of the Treasury. When opened it emitted an odor of dead roses. The first article lifted from the box was a heavy square bottle which contained the attar of roses. A considerable quantity of the precious fluid had made its escape, but quite enough remained to perfume the city, if this shall be considered necessary after the carnival has passed away. There was no paper to indicate to whom this attar of roses belonged, but tradition says that some East Indian prince sent it to Martin Van Buren; that it had once been deposited at the Patent Office, and afterwards sent to the Treasury, in the year 1848. The next bottle lifted from the paper wrappings contained pearls. These were remarkably fine on account of shape, size, and purity of color. Two of the pearls were the largest the writer has ever seen. They were oblong in shape, and these two must have given color to the fancy “pearls as large as pigeon eggs.” As there was no way of counting these jewels, it was judged there might have been one hundred and fifty altogether. The next article was a small vial containing diamonds. None of these were large, but they were very clear, and perfect in shape. It seemed as if they must have once been a part of some royal necklace which had been stolen. As is usually the case in calamities of this kind, the detectives only recover the smaller stones. There might have been a thimbleful of diamonds. Thieves evidently had been at work with the treasure, for in the next article brought forth the golden lining of a snuff-box was missing. Next came a gold ornament which had once held together a pearl necklace. The silken string and tassel attached to it showed its East Indian origin. This, it appears, was the article left to show that some President or officer of the Government had been presented with a pearl necklace. It had been placed on exhibition somewhere, and thieves made way with it; but in order to secure what was recovered beyond all chance of future escape, the string and gold fastening were laid in this box.

The next article was a tin box. There was no way to ascertain whether the box was originally intended for pills or matches. There was every reason to believe that the original “Pandora’s box” had been found. But on opening it there was discovered a sealed paper containing gems—thirteen small diamonds of the finest water and four large pearls. A small piece of paper in a box had written upon it this interesting bit of information: “These jewels had originally been presented to Martin Van Buren, but had been stolen from a case in the Patent Office on the night of November 8th, 1848.” These unfortunate gems convey the most useful lesson: If Mistress Van Buren had worn her jewels, instead of placing them where thieves break in and steal, she would have set an illustrious example, and the country would have been no poorer than it is to-day.

The second box opened contained counterfeit coins and dies. These had been deposited by M. C. Young, esq., and they had been received from agents employed to detect counterfeiters. These bore the date of May 10, 1847. These counterfeit gold and silver coins could not deceive an infant of this generation. The first package opened contained Confederate bills, bonds, and small currency. The second package were the spoils won by the United States in a law-suit. This bundle of papers was found to consist of bonds received from Messrs. Redin and Fendall, per Henry May, amount $97,276.33, being the same received by them from Corcoran & Riggs on decree in case of the United States versus Gardiner. Bond to the State of Tennessee. Date of the oldest coupon due, July 1, 1857. The treasurer gave Mr. May a receipt therefor, and is directed by the Secretary of the Treasury to hold these bonds until he shall decide as to entries, etc. Dated April 9, 1855.

The third package was marked $24,963. Upon examination the mark and the contents did not exactly coincide.

The fourth package contained bonds, loan of 1848, returned October 10, 1857, marked $300.

The next in order came a box containing notes of the survey of the boundary between the United States and Mexico, under the treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, from the junction of the Gila and the Colorado to the Pacific coast, deposited by Brevet Captain Hardcastle, United States Navy Topographical Engineers, June 11, 1852.

Fifth package, marked $3,059.64-100. On the outside wrapper was written: “Received of A. Smith, cashier of the Bank of the Metropolis by order of the Secretary of the Treasury the within uncurrent funds, which had been held by said bank on special deposit, consisting of uncurrent bank notes.”

Package No. 6 contained counterfeit State bank notes and legal tenders sent as specimens by M. J. E. D. Cousins, chief of police of St. Louis, Mo.

Package No. 7 contained Confederate bonds held subject to the order of the Secretary of War. Total amount, $12,050.

Package No. 8 contained the sad relics left by a defaulting Treasury clerk in his desk. The man’s name was E. French, and he was assistant disbursing clerk in the Treasury extension. After he had absconded his keys, papers, and money was safely lodged in the vault. The money consisted of $50 in gold and $2.10 in silver.

Olivia.