Social affairs there were, of course.  But they were simple enough to please the most ardent Jeffersonian—­much too simple to please people accustomed to somewhat rigorous etiquette.  Thus George Bancroft, who had the reputation of being one of Washington’s most punctilious gentlemen, thought well of Jackson’s character but very poorly of his levees.  In describing a White House reception which he attended in 1831, he wrote: 

“The old man stood in the center of a little circle, about large enough for a cotillion, and shook hands with everybody that offered.  The number of ladies who attended was small; nor were they brilliant.  But to compensate for it there was a throng of apprentices, boys of all ages, men not civilized enough to walk about the room with their hats off; the vilest promiscuous medley that ever was congregated in a decent house; many of the lowest gathering round the doors, pouncing with avidity upon the wine and refreshments, tearing the cake with the ravenous keenness of intense hunger; starvelings, and fellows with dirty faces and dirty manners; all the refuse that Washington could turn forth from its workshops and stables.”

The “people” still ruled.  Yet it was only the public receptions that presented such scenes of disorder.  The dinners which the President occasionally gave were well appointed.  A Philadelphia gentleman who was once invited to the White House with two or three friends testifies that “the dinner was very neat and served in excellent taste, while the wines were of the choicest qualities.  The President himself dined on the simplest fare:  bread, milk, and vegetables.”

Jackson was never a rich man, and throughout his stay in the White House he found it no easy matter to make ends meet.  He entertained his personal friends and official guests royally.  He lavished hospitality upon the general public, sometimes spending as much as a thousand or fifteen hundred dollars on a single levee.  He drew a sharp line between personal and public expenditures, and met out of his own pocket outlays that under administrations both before and after were charged to the public account.  He loaned many thousands of dollars, in small amounts, to needy friends, to old comrades in arms, and especially to widows and orphans of his soldiery and of his political supporters; and a large proportion of these debts he not only never collected but actually forgot.  Receipts from the Hermitage farm during his years of absence were small, and fire in 1834 made necessary a rebuilding of the family residence at considerable cost.  The upshot was that when, in 1837, the General was preparing to leave Washington, he had to scrape together every available dollar in cash, and in addition pledge the cotton crop of his plantation six months ahead for a loan of six thousand dollars, in order to pay the bills outstanding against him in the capital.