CHAPTER XXIV.
PRESIDENT WASHINGTON.
It was on April 16, 1789, that Washington left Mount Vernon for New York, where Congress first met, and where he was to be inaugurated President. The country all along the route was eager to see him, and at every place through which he passed there were processions and triumphal arches and ringing of bells. Some of the signs of welcome were queer, and some were beautiful and touching. When he crossed the Schuylkill, there was a series of arches under which he was to ride; and when he came to the first one, a laurel wreath was let down upon his head. The people who arranged that exhibition must have been very anxious as to how it would turn out. At Trenton, where everybody remembered the famous battle he had fought, the women had put up a great triumphal arch resting upon thirteen columns, with a great dome crowned by a sunflower; then, as he rode through, he came upon a company of women and girls who came toward him, strewing flowers and singing. When he reached New York, guns were fired; and a vast crowd of people, headed by the Governor, was waiting to receive him.
Congress had begun its sessions at Federal Hall, which stood where the present Treasury building stands in Wall street. The day set for the inauguration was April 30. Precisely at noon, the procession moved from the house where Washington was lodged, through what is now Pearl street and Broad street, to the Hall. Washington entered the Senate Chamber, where John Adams, who was Vice-President and therefore presiding over the Senate, received him in the presence of the Senate and House, and then escorted him to a balcony at the front of the Hall. A crimson-covered table stood on it, holding a large Bible. Below, Broad street and Wall street were packed with people, as were also the windows and the roofs of the houses near by. They set up a great shout as Washington appeared. He came to the front, laid his hand on his heart, and bowed to the people.
The multitude could see the commanding figure of the great general as he stood bare-headed on the balcony. He was dressed in a suit of brown cloth, of American manufacture, with knee-breeches and white silk stockings and silver shoe-buckles. His hair was dressed and powdered, as was the custom then. They saw near him John Adams and Robert R. Livingston, the Chancellor of the State of New York, and distinguished men—generals and others; but their eyes were bent on Washington. They saw Chancellor Livingston stand as if speaking to him, and the Secretary of the Senate holding the open Bible on which Washington’s hand lay. Those nearest could hear the Chancellor pronounce the oath of office and Washington’s reply, “I swear—so help me, God!” and could see him bow and kiss the Bible.
Then the Chancellor stepped forward, waved his hand, and said aloud: “Long live George Washington, President of the United States.” At the same time, a flag, as a signal, was run up on the cupola of the Hall. Instantly cannon were fired, bells rung, and the people shouted. Washington saluted them, and then turned back into the Senate chamber, where he read his inaugural address, in a low voice, for he was evidently deeply affected,—great occasions always solemnized him,—and after the address, he went on foot, with many others, to St. Paul’s Church, where prayers were read by Dr. Provoost, Bishop of the Episcopal Church, and one of the chaplains of Congress. At night, there were fireworks and bonfires.
Thus, with the good-will of the people and the confidence of all the sections,—however suspicious they might be of one another,—Washington began his career as President. For eight years, he remained in office. His character was now so fixed that there is little new to be learned about it from that time forward; but there were many events that made more clear how wise, how just, how honorable and how faithful to his trust he was. He had been very loath to take upon himself the duties of President, but when once he had been placed in the chair, he let nothing stand in the way of the most thorough discharge of his duties.
[Illustration: INAUGURATION OF WASHINGTON AS PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES.]
Now came into play all those habits which he had been forming from boyhood. As President of the whole people, it was his business to have an oversight of all the interests of the young nation, and, as the first President, he had the opportunity of setting an example to those who were to come after him. It is one of the most excellent gifts to the American people that they should have had for their first President a man so well rounded and so magnanimous as George Washington. There were as yet no political parties, though there were the seeds of parties in the opposite ways in which public men regarded the new Constitution. Washington called to his cabinet men who disliked one another and who were really as much opposed to one another as if they belonged to antagonistic parties; but they never could draw Washington away from a strict impartiality. He made Thomas Jefferson Secretary of State, because he was most thoroughly acquainted with foreign affairs; and he made Alexander Hamilton Secretary of the Treasury, because he had shown himself the most competent man to plan a way out of the greatest peril which beset the young nation. But Jefferson and Hamilton cordially disliked each other, and were decidedly of opposite ways of thinking.
[Illustration: ST. PAUL’S CHURCH, NEW YORK.]
Washington, however, did not rest contented with choosing the best men to carry on the Government. In those days, when the country had only a small population, a small area, and a small business, it was possible for one man to know very much more fully the details of government than it is now. His lifelong habits of methodical industry enabled Washington to get through an amount of work which seems extraordinary. For example, he read from beginning to end all the letters which had passed between Congress and foreign governments since the treaty of peace in 1783, making abstracts and briefs of them, so as to know thoroughly the whole history of the relations of the country to foreign governments. He required from every head of department whom he found in office, a report of the state of public business. He treated these reports as he had the foreign correspondence, and in this way he mastered all the internal affairs of the nation. The result was that he had his own judgment about any matter of importance which came up, and was not obliged to follow the lead of the cabinet officers.
There were, of course, only a few public offices to be filled then, and it was quite possible for Washington to know personally most of the men who should be appointed to fill them. He thought this one of the most important parts of his work as President; because he knew well that it is not rules and regulations, but men, that carry on any government or any business, and that, if he could put honest and capable men, who were unselfishly devoted to the country, into all the offices, he would secure a wise administration of the laws. From the first, he began to be besieged by applicants for office, and he made immediately the very sensible rule that he would not give any pledge or encouragement to any applicant. He heard what they and their friends had to say, and then made up his mind deliberately. He had, however, certain principles in his mind which governed him in making appointments, and they were so high and honorable, and show so well the character of the man, that I copy here what he said with regard to the matter:
“Scarcely a day passes in which applications of one kind or another do not arrive; insomuch that, had I not early adopted some general principles, I should before this time have been wholly occupied in this business. As it is, I have found the number of answers, which I have been necessitated to give in my own hand, an almost insupportable burden to me. The points in which all these answers have agreed in substance are, that, should it be my lot to go again into public office, I would go without being under any possible engagements of any nature whatsoever; that, so far as I knew my own heart, I would not be in the remotest degree influenced in making nominations by motives arising from the ties of family or blood; and that, on the other hand, three things, in my opinion, ought principally to be regarded, namely: the fitness of characters to fill offices, the comparative claims from the former merits and sufferings in service of the different candidates, and the distribution of appointments in as equal a proportion as might be to persons belonging to the different States in the Union. Without precautions of this kind, I clearly foresaw the endless jealousies and possibly the fatal consequences to which a government, depending altogether on the good-will of the people for its establishment, would certainly be exposed in its early stages. Besides, I thought, whatever the effect might be in pleasing or displeasing any individuals at the present moment, a due concern for my own reputation, not less decisively than a sacred regard to the interests of the community, required that I should hold myself absolutely at liberty to act, while in office, with a sole reference to justice and the public good.”
To protect himself from being at everybody’s call, and so unable to be of the greatest service, he established certain rules. Every Tuesday, between the hours of three and four, he received whoever might come. Every Friday afternoon Mrs. Washington received with him. At all other times, he could be seen only by special appointment. He never accepted invitations to dinner, and that has been the rule of Presidents ever since; but he constantly invited to his own table foreign ministers, members of the Government, and other guests. He received no visits on Sunday. He went to church with his family in the morning, and spent the afternoon by himself. The evening he spent with his family, and sometimes had with him an intimate friend.
He still kept up his old habit of rising at four and going to bed at nine. Mrs. Washington had a grave little formula with which she used to dismiss visitors in the evening:
“The General always retires at nine o’clock, and I usually precede him.”
His recreation he took chiefly in driving and riding. He never lost his liking for a good horse, and he knew what a good horse was. He had a servant who had been General Braddock’s servant, and had been with Washington ever since the battle of the Monongahela. Bishop, as he was named, was a terrible disciplinarian, and devoted to his master’s interests. At sunrise every day, he would go to the stables, where the boys had been at work since dawn grooming the General’s horses. Woe to them if they had been careless! Bishop marched in with a muslin handkerchief in his hand and passed it over the coats of the horses; if a single stain appeared on the muslin, the boy who groomed the horse had to take a thrashing. It was no light matter to groom a horse in those days, for, just as the heads of gentlemen were plastered and bewigged, so the horses were made to undergo what would seem to us now a rather absurd practice. The night before a horse was to be ridden, he was covered from head to foot with a paste made of whiting and other ingredients; then he was well wrapped in cloth and laid to sleep on clean straw. By the next morning the paste had hardened, and it was then vigorously rubbed in, and the horse curried and brushed. The result was a glossy and satiny coat. The hoofs were blackened and polished, the mouth washed, the teeth picked and cleaned, and the horse was then ready to be saddled and brought out.
Mrs. Washington was a domestic, home-loving body, but a lady of great dignity and sweetness of disposition, who moved serenely by the side of her husband, receiving his guests in the same spirit. She never talked about politics, but was evenly courteous to every one. She was like her husband, too, in her exactness and her attention to little details of economy. While she was in the midst of her duties as President’s wife, she wrote to one of her family: “I live a very dull life here, and know nothing that passes in the town. I never go to any public place, indeed, I think I am more like a state prisoner than anything else. There are certain bounds set for me which I must not depart from; and, as I can not do as I like, I am obstinate and stay at home a great deal.” But her real heart was at Mount Vernon and in her household affairs. “I send to dear Maria,” she writes, “a piece of _chene_ to make her a frock, and a piece of muslin, which I hope is long enough for an apron for you. In exchange for it, I beg you will give me a worked muslin apron you have, like my gown that I made just before I left home, of worked muslin, as I wish to make a petticoat to my gown, of the two aprons.”
Washington himself never lost sight of Mount Vernon. Just as in his absence, during the war, he required weekly reports from the manager of his plantation, so now he kept up the same practice. Occasionally, when Congress was not in session, he could go home, but his visits were short and rare. It may seem strange to some that a soldier and a statesman like Washington should be also an ardent farmer; but that he was. I suppose the one occupation that Washington loved was farming; in his earlier life there is no doubt that he cared most for a soldier’s fortune, but after he was fairly in possession of Mount Vernon, the care of that place became his passion, and for the rest of his life he was first and last a farmer. For my part, I like to think of Washington in this way, for the one indispensable art is the art of agriculture; all other arts are built upon it, and the man who has a piece of land, and can raise from it enough to feed and clothe and shelter himself and his family, is the most independent of men, and has a real place on the earth which he can call his own.
During his presidency, Washington made two tours through the country,—one into the Eastern and one into the Southern States. He was received with special honor in New England, for he was less familiarly known to the people there, and they made a great holiday in every town through which the President passed. By these tours, he made himself acquainted with the needs of the country and with the persons who were the leaders of the people.
But there were parts which he could not visit, yet in which he felt the deepest interest and concern. We have seen how, from time to time, he visited the country beyond the Alleghanies, and how much importance he attached to the settlement of the West. The greatest difficulty in the early days was through the relations which the people had with the Indians. Washington knew the Indians well; he knew how to get along with them, and he knew also what dangerous enemies they were. At the end of his first term as President, it became necessary to send a military expedition to the frontiers, and General St. Clair was placed at the head of it. When he came to bid Washington good-bye, his old chief gave him a solemn warning: “You have your instructions from the Secretary of War. I had a strict eye to them, and will add but one word: Beware of a surprise! You know how the Indians fight. I repeat it—beware of a surprise!”
But St. Clair was surprised and terribly defeated. It was a bitter disappointment to Washington, who received the news of the disaster one December day when he was at dinner. His private secretary, Mr. Lear, was called out of the room by a servant, who said there was a messenger without who insisted on seeing the President. Mr. Lear went to him and found that he was an officer from St. Clair’s army with dispatches which he refused to give to any one but President Washington. Mr. Lear went back to the dining-room and whispered this to Washington, who excused himself to the company and went out to hear the officer’s news. He came back shortly after and resumed his place at the table, but without explaining the reason of his absence. He was, however, absorbed, as he often was, and muttered to himself; and one of his neighbors caught the words, “I knew it would be so!”
It was the evening when Mrs. Washington held her reception, and the gentlemen, when leaving the dining-room, went directly into the drawing-room. Washington went with them. He was calm and showed no signs of disturbance. He spoke as usual to every one, and at last the guests had gone. Mrs. Washington also left, and the General was left alone with his secretary. He was silent at first, walking to and fro in the room. Then he took a seat by the fire, and motioned Mr. Lear to sit by him. He could no longer contain himself; he must have some relief, and suddenly he burst out: “It’s all over! St. Clair’s defeated! routed! The officers nearly all killed; the men by wholesale; the rout complete—too shocking to think of, and a surprise into the bargain!” He jerked out the sentences as if he were in pain. He got up and walked up and down again like a caged lion, stood still, and once more burst out in passionate speech: “Yes, _here_, on this very spot I took leave of him; I wished him success and honor. ‘You have your instructions from the Secretary of War,’ said I, ‘I had a strict eye to them, and will add but one word: BEWARE OF A SURPRISE! You know how the Indians fight; I repeat it—BEWARE OF A SURPRISE!’ He went off with that, my last warning, thrown into his ears. And yet!—To suffer that army to be cut to pieces, butchered, tomahawked, by a surprise—the very thing I guarded him against!”—and the strong man threw up his hands while he shook with terrible emotion: “He’s worse than a murderer! How can he answer for it to his country! The blood of the slain is upon him—the curse of widows and orphans—the curse of Heaven!”
[Illustration: GEORGE WASHINGTON. (FROM THE PORTRAIT BY GILBERT STUART.)]
Mr. Lear was dumb. He had never seen or heard Washington like this. It was a pent-up volcano bursting forth. Washington himself recovered his control. He sat down again. He was silent. He felt, as a strong man does who has for a moment broken the bounds of restraint, a noble shame, not at his indignation, but at having for a moment thus given way. “This must not go beyond this room,” he said presently, in a quiet, almost whispered tone. Then he added, after a pause: “General St. Clair shall have justice. I looked hastily through the dispatches; saw the whole disaster, but not all the particulars. I will receive him without displeasure; I will hear him without prejudice; he shall have full justice.”
Washington kept his word. Perhaps all the more for this outbreak, he determined that St. Clair should be treated with scrupulous justice. But the incident illustrates the character of Washington. Deep down in his nature was a passionate regard for law, for obedience, for strict accountability. It was this which made him in minor matters so punctual, so orderly, so precise in his accounts; in larger matters, it made him unselfishly and wholly consecrated to the country which trusted him, just in all his dealings, and the soul of honor. This consuming passion for law made him govern himself, keep in restraint the fierce wrath which leaped up within him, and measure his acts and words with an iron will. The two notable scenes when his anger blazed out and burned up his self-control as if it were a casing of straw, were caused by Lee’s faithlessness at Monmouth and St. Clair’s carelessness. On each of these occasions, it was not an offense against himself which woke his terrible wrath, it was an offense against the country, against God; for in the moment of his anger he saw each of these two men false to the trust reposed in him.
Yet the difficulties with the Indians were as nothing to the perils which beset the country in its intercourse with Europe. At that time, the United States was almost a part of Europe. All its business was with France and England. It had declared and achieved political independence, but was nevertheless connected by a thousand ties of commerce, law, and custom with the Old World. The fierce revolution in France was in part set in flame by the example of America; and when war broke out between England and France, there was scarcely a man in America who did not take sides in his mind with one country or the other. There was the greatest possible danger that the country would be drawn into the quarrels of Europe.
In the midst of all these commotions, when the very members of his cabinet were acting and speaking as if they were the servants either of England or of France, Washington maintained his impartiality, and saw to it that the United States was kept out of European disputes. What was the result? He saved the country from fearful disaster; for he was like the pilot that conducts the ship through rapids and past dangerous reefs. But he himself suffered incredible contumely and reviling from the hot-headed partisans who were ready to plunge the country into the dispute. “If ever a nation,” said one newspaper, “was debauched by a man, the American nation has been debauched by Washington. If ever a nation was deceived by a man, the American nation has been deceived by Washington. Let his conduct, then, be an example to future ages; let it serve to be a warning that no man may be an idol; let the history of the Federal Government instruct mankind that the mask of patriotism may be worn to conceal the foulest designs against the liberties of the people.” That is the way some people wrote about Washington when he was President.