By the twenty-ninth arrangements were so nearly complete that Washington knew what to expect. If he was awake at sunrise the next day, he heard the bark of thirteen guns from the fortifications at the southern end of Manhattan Island. Not long after the guns paid homage, he had his hair powdered and dressed with proud care in a suit of brown broadcloth spun at Hartford, purchased and forwarded to Mount Vernon through Henry Knox. This apparel was to advertise American industry; it was, also, in a homely way to proclaim American liberty since the device on the buttons was that of a wing-spread eagle. The stockings were Washington’s best, of white silk; his shoe-buckles were silver; he was later to fasten on a dress sword in a steel scabbard.
When Washington had eaten breakfast, the bells of city churches began to ring, some of them merrily at first and then all of them solemnly in a summons to prayer. The General and his assistants doubtless listened sympathetically, but they were busy with last-minute details. Washington’s Inaugural Address was not a concern; it was ready for delivery. He had put aside completely the long statement of needed legislation he had written some weeks before at Mount Vernon and in its place, probably with help from Madison, had prepared a paper that could be read at an unhurried pace in less than twenty minutes.
Soon the General had the smallest final detail properly set in the pattern of the day’s proceedings. Before his door crowds gathered and gaped. Every moment these spectators increased in number. Militia appeared in the roadway; a parade was being formed. No call came for Washington till noon was past. Then he heard the sound of horses’ hoofs, the tramp of troops and the grind of carriage wheels: The joint committee of Congress was arriving to escort him to Federal Hall. Along with the eight members, whose chairman was Senator Ralph Izard, a like number of “assistants” made their bow, all except one of them veterans of the Revolution. On Izard’s announcement that Congress was ready to receive him, Washington left the house and, alone, entered a grand coach that had been prepared for him. At half past twelve off rolled the General in slow stateliness, his vehicle drawn by four fine horses. Ahead were the troops and the Senate members of the joint committee; behind Washington rode his secretaries, Representatives of the committee, Chancellor Robert R. Livingston, who was to administer the oath, and, with him, the heads of the Federal Departments and a few eminent citizens.
When the procession ended its march, Washington and the others left the vehicles and walked up Broad Street towards the meeting place. Inside the remodeled Federal Hall the two Houses of Congress were sitting together in the Senate Chamber awaiting him. He mounted the stairs and came to the Chamber door, which was opened ceremoniously. As Washington walked towards the platform, the lawmakers and guests rose from the semicircle of seats; Washington bowed to both sides while he walked to the Vice President who was standing directly in front of the platform. John Adams formally welcomed Washington and escorted him to the central seat. Adams took a chair on Washington’s right, and Speaker Frederick Muhlenberg one on the General’s left. After a brief pause, Adams stood to address the President: “Sir, the Senate and House of Representatives are ready to attend you to take the oath required by the Constitution. It will be administered by the Chancellor of the State of New York.”
“I am ready to proceed,” Washington answered simply.
Adams led the way to the central door of three that led into a small portico overlooking Wall and Broad Streets. As Washington emerged, he saw crowded roof-tops and windows filled with his fellow-Americans. A second later, from the front of the portico, he beheld a multitude in the streets. Whole-hearted cheers rolled up to him and did not decrease in volume until he bowed again and again with his hand on his heart and then stepped back to the arm-chair where he took his seat. By this time the portico was jammed, but places had been left for the Chancellor, the Vice President and Governor Clinton. Immediately behind the table stood Henry Knox and Arthur St. Clair, the one still Secretary of War and the other Governor of the Northwest Territory. The historic moment was at hand. Washington arose and came forward, again in unobstructed view of the crowd. Opposite him stood Chancellor Livingston, who had been a member of Congress when the Virginian had been named as Commander-in-Chief. Samuel Otis, Secretary of the Senate, lifted the Bible and the red cushion from the table and took his station between Washington and the Chancellor. Washington saw that the Judge was ready and put his right hand on the Bible. “Do you solemnly swear,” asked the Chancellor, “that you will faithfully execute the office of President of the United States and will, to the best of your ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States?”
“I solemnly swear,” Washington answered—and repeated the oath. Reverently he added, “So help me God.” He bent forward as he spoke and, before Otis could lift the Bible to his lips, he kissed the book.
“It is done,” Livingston announced, and, turning to the crowd, he made a broad gesture with his hand and shouted, “Long live George Washington, President of the United States!” The roar of the throng came back on the instant, joyful and sustained. Livingston’s cry was taken up, and with it came clearly, “God bless our President.” Washington bowed. The answering cheers were louder and more emotional than ever. Eyes were lifted to the cupola of the Federal Hall, where the flag was being raised. It was a signal to the Battery, which answered with the bang-bang of thirteen guns. The President bowed his acknowledgments, which evoked still more cheers, and before the ovation ended reentered the Senate Chamber, took his seat on the dais and waited for the members and guests to resume their places. All spectators rose with him and, after he had bowed again, sat down intently.
“Fellow Citizens of the Senate and House of Representatives,” Washington began with embarrassment, “Among the vicissitudes incident to life, no event could have filled me with greater anxiety than that of which the notification was transmitted by your order. . . .” He repeated in well-fashioned phrases what he had said many times regarding the conflict of duty and inclination, his consciousness of his “inferior endowments,” and his lack of practice “in the duties of civil administration.” He followed this with “fervent supplications to that Almighty Being who rules over the Universe.” In reverent tones he spoke of the “invisible hand” and the “providential agency” that had guided the people of the United States in all their struggles and had wrought the “important revolution just accomplished in the system of their United Government.”
After he had dwelt on these themes for about six minutes, Washington turned to the duty imposed by the Constitution of making recommendations to Congress, but in this he deferred to Congress. The one specific suggestion he made was that Congress should decide to what extent it should advocate constitutional amendments in order to meet objections and relieve “inquietude.” In this, said Washington, “I shall again give way to my entire confidence in your discernment and pursuit of the public good,” but he added reflections that bespoke both his caution and his political judgment:
I assure myself that whilst you carefully avoid every alteration which might endanger the benefits of an united and effective government, or which ought to await the future lessons of experience, a reverence for the characteristic rights of freedom and a regard for the public harmony will sufficiently influence your deliberations on the question how far the former can be more impregnably fortified, or the latter be safely and advantageously promoted.
With this he turned back the pages of his public service by renewing, in effect, the statement he had made when he had been named Commander-in-Chief in 1775: he would ask that his compensation “be limited to such actual expenditures as the public good may be thought to require.” A minute sufficed for his conclusion:
Having thus imparted to you my sentiments, as they have been awakened by the occasion which brings us together, I shall take my present leave; but not without resorting once more to the benign parent of the human race, in humble supplication that since He has been pleased to favor the American people, with opportu
nities for deliberating in perfect tranquility, and dispositions for deciding with unparalleled unanimity on a form of Government for the security of their Union and the advancement of their happiness; so his divine blessing may be equally conspicuous in the enlarged views, the temperate consultations and the wise measures on which the success of this Government must depend.
When he bowed and sat down his audience was as much moved as he had been. He had stirred deeply the feelings of most of those who had listened: the earnestness of the man, his sincerity, his simplicity and the memories that he personified set hearts to beating faster and blurred responsive eyes. The French Minister, the Comte de Moustier, reported to his government: “. . . never has sovereign reigned more completely in the hearts of his subjects than did Washington in those of his fellow-citizens. . . . He has the soul, look and figure of a hero united in him.”
After his address had been delivered the President walked with Congressmen and guests, through streets lined with militia, to St. Paul’s Chapel, whither Congress had voted to go in order “to hear divine service, performed by the Chaplain of Congress.” Bishop Samuel Provoost did not abbreviate the petitions he made to the Almighty, and the Te Deum was sung, not chanted; but as Doctor Provoost did not preach a sermon, Washington was soon out doors again and in one of the carriages that awaited guests and committee. Mercifully the President was left to dine privately and reflect in his own chamber on events that would compel him at fifty-seven years of age to face the perplexities inevitably attendant on the exercise by a central government of powers eleven States jealously had guarded as the symbols and the tools of their sovereignty.
Washington’s first task was not to ascertain his duties but to find time in which to discharge those awaiting him. He had to study all recent treasury reports and all foreign dispatches, and he had to confer with the heads of the departments that had existed when the Constitution became operative. In no other way than this could he so readily discover the poverty of the government and the state of negotiations with foreign powers and the Indians. Good relations with Congress had to be established and acceptable channels of communication opened, perhaps by different approaches, with House and Senate. The executive branch of government had then to be organized, revenues had to be provided, courts set up, and appointments made.
These were duties of varying complexity but the least difficult of them would demand hours on hours of work every week and some would require long attention daily; how could this be given? A rule to receive “visits of compliment” on two designated days of the week and then for an hour only was made effective forthwith. Lear, on reaching the city, had hired “Black Sam” Fraunces as steward. The former proprietor of the tavern where Washington had said farewell to his officers, “tossed off such a number of fine dishes,” according to Lear, “that we are distracted in our choice when we sit down to table, and obliged to hold a long consultation on the subject before we can determine what to attack.” Although it seemed bad to leave these viands untouched while members of Congress were eating poor meals at noisy taverns, the General’s tentative decision to do no entertaining at dinner was approved and perhaps was prompted by old Federal lawmakers and conspicuous New Yorkers. They explained that some of the later presiding officers of Congress under the Articles of Confederation had been too lavish in the invitations extended. The General was advised that he would do well to extend no invitations and, further, to accept none.
In electing to defer entertainment under his own roof, Washington felt it prudent to continue public appearances temporarily. On May 6 he attended the commencement of Columbia College and subjected himself to ten orations by graduating students and to the final exhortation by the clear-headed President William Samuel Johnson. The next night, Washington went to a great ball at the Assembly Rooms. The evening of the eleventh was given to the theatre, with several members of Congress as guests of the President. By the fourteenth the strain of long days and late evenings may have been severe, but Washington had to go to a ball given in his honor by the French Minister. To continue this measure of social activity was out of the question. Before he had ended his experimental round of attendance on social affairs, Washington asked Adams, Hamilton, Jay and Madison for their advice: Might he safely reduce the levees? Could he with propriety set an early morning hour each day—say eight o’clock—for calls by persons who had public business to discuss? Would it be in order for him to invite men in public office and no private citizens to dine with him on the days he held levees? Were all large entertainments better barred than held? Might not a few be arranged annually at the President’s house, and if so, when?
Hamilton’s answer was austere: One levee a week would be sufficient and should be open only to those who were introduced properly; Washington’s appearance at these affairs ought not to extend beyond half an hour; during the reception, invitations to dinner should be extended informally to six or eight guests, with whom the President would not linger overlong. No invitations were to be accepted, nor were any visits to be returned. From two to four entertainments might be held yearly. Adams’s views were more liberal: Two levees a week would be necessary to accommodate the crowds; the President should not have large social gatherings but should remain free to receive unofficial guests and visit informally, because his private life should be lived at his own discretion. Public entertainment was not necessary. Tours of the country were desirable, but the expense of them ought to be separate from the compensation of the President. Washington chose, as he said, “that line of conduct which combined public advantage with private convenience and which in my judgment, was unexceptionable in itself”; he would continue two levees a week, but he would make no visits; on occasion he would indulge his fondness for the theatre; other decisions on social life could await the arrival of Martha from Virginia.
The President had in the shortest possible time to organize his personal office. He had admirable assistance in the literary veteran, Humphreys, and in Lear, whose abilities and disposition made him useful in almost every important task. Lear could effect a good bargain or have repairs executed quickly; he could write an excellent letter or manage a pleasant dinner. No young man since the days of Tench Tilghman and John Laurens had served so acceptably in Washington’s household. Lear grew but so did his duties, which soon exceeded all that even his diligence could accomplish on a given day. The President had to look for another senior secretary and two juniors. It took him some months to find Maj. William Jackson, who had served in Lincoln’s South Carolina campaign and in 1787 had been Secretary of the Philadelphia Convention. Washington found the Major so skillful that he well might have lamented his failure to acquire his services earlier. One junior addition to the establishment was Thomas Nelson, son of the Governor who had commanded the Virginia militia in front of Yorktown. Still another young Virginian, Washington’s nephew Robert Lewis, was to come to New York with Martha. How many hours he could devote for the General and how many to the Lady of the House time alone would show. There was need also of political aides. The men to whom Washington looked for assistance were Madison and Hamilton—the Virginian for the drafting of papers too intricate for the secretaries, and the New Yorker for information on the higher political strategy of New York and the East. Both could be valuable in Washington’s establishment of cordial relations with Congress.
Eight and a half years of negotiation with lawmakers while Washington was Commander-in-Chief had been added to his own training in the Virginia House of Burgesses and the Congresses of 1774 and 1775. This long instruction gave him experience for dealing with the new bicameral system of Federal legislation. The only unfamiliar phases of his duty with respect to Congress were a determination of the precise function of the Senate and the establishment of a balanced relationship of the executive departments to Congress and to him. He would use the four existing Departments—Foreign Affairs, War, Post Office and Board of Treasury—until others were created. In the absence of contrary precedents, he would have
the heads of these divisions report directly to Congress on matters committed to them by resolution of the lawmakers. Washington did not feel, at the outset, that it was expedient to call for information from the Departments; but as soon as pressure on him lightened in June, he began reading the dispatches and reports on file and asked Jay, Knox and the members of the Board of Treasury to prepare a summary that would give him “a full, precise and general idea” of the work entrusted to them. He began to assume a positive direction of foreign affairs, control of which was vested in him by the Constitution. In careful deference to Congress, he neither made recommendations at this time nor discussed what the lawmakers debated. Scrupulously he adhered to the stand that amendment of the Constitution was proper but that in everything else he would rely on “the talents, the rectitude and the patriotism” of members. The separation of the three branches of government was to be respected. He would administer but he would not interfere—that was the basis of his executive policy.
Congress was quick to assert the prerogatives he was careful to respect. The first bill passed by Congress was one that prescribed how oaths were to be administered, an act to which Washington attached his signature June 1. An imperative measure for levying imposts had been taken up in Committee of the Whole as early as April 8 but members had much to say on this and on almost every other subject mentioned on the floor. Debate over duties on imported goods soon developed many clashes of sectional interest and numerous complicated disputes. Bills for the creation of executive Departments of Foreign Affairs, War and Treasury were soon involved in an interesting debate on the question of the right of the President to remove the heads of these Departments.
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