Although little of this legislation aroused heat, no essential part of the bill for the excise on spirits and scarcely a clause of the measure for the establishment of the national bank failed to stir the coals of controversy. Washington felt that South and East were arrayed unpleasantly against each other—the Southern delegations in opposition and the New Englanders for the two measures—but it seemed to him that the debates were conducted with “temper and candor.” The bank bill originated in the Senate; the excises, of course, were for the House to initiate. The Senate passed the bank bill January 20, 1791, and the House the excise legislation a week later. Then the two chambers exchanged bills. The Representatives made short work of the measure to establish the bank and on February 8 accepted it.
Washington had to decide for himself the constitutional question that had divided both chambers: Should he sign or disapprove the bill to charter the Bank of the United States? The Attorney General was asked for his opinion, which was adverse. Next, Jefferson’s observations were sought; they were forthcoming with convinced precision. The bill, he said, was unconstitutional, because Congress was not vested with specific authority to create such a corporation and under one of the amendments then in process of adoption, “the powers not delegated to the United States by the Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the States are reserved to the States respectively, or to the people.” Jefferson’s arguments were set forth succinctly and without a doubt concerning the absolute correctness of interpretation; but at the end was this candid counsel: “. . . if the pro and the con hang so even as to balance [the President’s] judgment, a just respect for the wisdom of the Legislature would naturally decide the balance in favor of their opinion. It is chiefly for cases where they are clearly misled by error, ambition, or interest, that the Constitution has placed a check in the negative of the President.”
Washington gave Hamilton “an opportunity of examining and answering the objections” and asked Madison to draft a proper form for returning the bill to Congress in event the decision was to refuse approval. Madison responded with a document conveniently phrased for returning the bill either on the ground of unconstitutionality or on that of a lack of merit in the measure. The argument advanced by Madison against constitutionality was condensed into a single sentence: “I object to the bill,” Madison would have the President say, “because it is an essential principle of the government that powers not delegated by the Constitution cannot be rightfully exercised; because the power proposed by the bill to be exercised is not delegated; and because I cannot satisfy myself that it results from any expressed power by fair and safe rules of implication.” Hamilton’s answer was a complete review and attempted refutation of substantially everything Jefferson and Randolph had said. Hamilton’s basic argument was:
. . . it appears to the Secretary of the Treasury that this general principle is inherent in the very definition of government, and essential to every step of the progress to be made by that of the United States, namely: That every power vested in a government is in its nature sovereign, and includes, by force of the term, a right to employ all the means requisite and fairly applicable to the attainment of the ends of such power, and which are not precluded by restrictions and exceptions specified in the Constitution, or not immoral, or not contrary to the essential ends of political society.
Thus were Washington’s closest counsellors divided, to his distress and embarrassment, over the width and reach of the foundations on which the structure of government was to rise. From the beginning of the effort to give America a new Constitution, his controlling principle had been the simplest: the United States must have a strong central government if they were to keep their freedom. Because his reasoning and conviction were altogether on the side Hamilton championed, he signed the bill on February 25. The excise measure came to his desk March 1, and, as it involved no constitutional issue, it received his signature the next day.
Troubled as the government at Paris was in its desperate struggle at home, the only other large question of controversy on the floor of Congress was a French protest against the tax on tonnage of ships entering the United States. Washington asked Jefferson to report on this and the Secretary, friend though he was of France, found her contention invalid for reasons he set forth at length. He admitted that policy might dictate concession but outlined explicitly the basis of what might be said in rejecting the protest. The Senate decided to maintain the interpretation of the Secretary. When Congress at length adjourned on March 3, Washington felt that besides passing the great contested measures, the two houses “had finished much other business of less importance, conducting on all occasions with great harmony and cordiality.” The majority probably agreed with Washington and shared Abigail Adams’ belief: “Our public affairs never looked more prosperous.” The First Congress had passed out of existence; a time of reckoning had come.
Washington was pleased not only with the achievements of the Congress but also with his success in learning his new duties. He wrote Lafayette that the American public had accepted Federal laws, which had been moderate and wise. “The administration of them,” said he, “aided by the affectionate partiality of my countrymen, is attended with no unnecessary inconvenience. . . .” He owed this lack of difficulty to the same conditions that had aided him in 1789—his own cautious, sound judgment, the absence of crisis, the consideration of legislators, the undiminished esteem in which Americans held him, and the success of his dealings with Congress and with the men he had chosen as heads of the departments. Hamilton and Jefferson were Washington’s closest advisers by this time and were the executive lieutenants most esteemed by Congress. Inside Congress Madison was less frequently consulted during the winter of 1790-91, not because of any cooling of affection but because he was engrossed in his labors as a legislator. Washington’s unofficial communications with Congress—and some of his regular reports—were through the heads of departments. Always the approach was as deferential as when the Commander-in-Chief had been in the field during the war; in his new position he lost none of his consideration for the pride and prerogative of lawmakers. His dealings with governors, state legislatures and officials in general conformed to the same criterion, but he insisted that this golden rule of administration be followed by others as well as by himself, and he resented any encroachment by the States on the domain of the Federal government.
Within the executive precinct of the Federal government, heads of Departments exercised initiative and freedom of thought. They were at liberty to express their own views in papers they laid before Congress at his direction as well as in reports prepared on order of Congress and transmitted directly to that body. Nor was there the least complaint on the part of Washington when any document he sent to Congress was referred to one of his subordinates for study and independent report. In foreign affairs Washington had no unvarying policy of administration. He might conduct direct correspondence for a time with American representatives abroad and later might request the Secretary to act; or he might take over from Jefferson; or, still again, both he and his lieutenant might write a Minister or Chargé within the same week. On occasion, too, the President would content himself with making suggestions to the Secretary of State. Washington employed the heads of departments substantially as he had used the members of his military family during the war. Each man was consulted if and when the President desired that individual’s judgment on a given issue, whether or not it was in the department for which that person was directly responsible. This had been accepted without misunderstanding and sometimes had been regarded as a convenience.
Differences over the banking bill soured amity between Jefferson and Hamilton. The opinions they had given Washington on the constitutionality of that measure had been those of men with different philosophies of government and not merely with contrary views of the implied powers of Congress. Rivalry between the two was becoming so apparent that Washington could not be unaware of it, but he chose to ignore it, and he took pains to avoid
any treatment of one or the other that might seem preferential or partial.
Philadelphia most certainly was pleased with him and was able to demonstrate often during the winter its old affection for him and its pride in being the seat of his administration. He and Martha held their levees as usual. Shining affairs were the First Lady’s Christmas Eve entertainment, the New Year’s Day reception, and the ceremonious observance of the President’s birthday February 22. Formalities were as strictly followed as ever. Washington carefully walked the line he had set for himself and respected all the amenities, but he was beginning to tire of the pomp of public appearance and was not insensitive to criticism of monarchical practices.
The President had had a series of personal and family chores to discharge during this season in Philadelphia, some so tedious and vexatious that they would have overtaxed his patience if they had not included two gratifying events. One was the birth in the President’s own house of a boy to Tobias and Mary Lear, who were residing there on the hearty invitation of the General and Mrs. Washington. This young gentleman was christened Benjamin Lincoln Lear, with Washington as godfather. The other occurrence was an offer by John Joseph de Barth to purchase at a fair figure all of Washington’s lands on the Ohio and the Kanawha, an offer gladly accepted.
Washington long had been making plans for a tour of the Southern States and as quickly as he could he disposed of the business that had to be transacted if the wheels of government were to revolve smoothly during an absence of three months, part of which would be in remote areas of the country. Then, on March 21, with Major Jackson, much equipment and a cumbersome entourage of five persons, he set out for the Potomac on what he regarded as the first stage of the Southern journey.
The duties Washington now had to perform were exceedingly interesting to an old surveyor. Under the law he had signed July 16, 1790, “for establishing the temporary and permanent seat of the government of the United States,” he was required to appoint three commissioners and direct their survey of the district where the Federal City was to rise. The President was to decide how much land was to be acquired on the Maryland side of the river for public use. This land was then to be purchased or accepted as a gift, and on it, “according to such plans as the President shall approve,” the commissioners were to provide “suitable buildings.” Washington had named two citizens of Maryland—Thomas Johnson, an able former Governor, and Senator Daniel Carroll of Rock Creek. The third commissioner was David Stuart, whose wife was Jack Custis’s widow. Maj. Andrew Ellicott, an experienced surveyor, had been sent to the Potomac in February to take a general view of the area and suggest “lines of experiment” for determining the exact “seat of government.” Ellicott had been followed by Maj. Pierre Charles L’Enfant, who was to make detailed surveys with an eye to the location of public buildings. These appointments had been made at a time of intense excitement on the part of landowners. Almost every man who held title to an acre in the vicinity was dreaming of fortunes to be made when farms of undistinguished fertility became, overnight, priceless lots in the centre of a city.
In such a situation, George Washington, veteran in land buying, could be a wise, even shrewd, guide for the cautious President of the United States. He maintained tight-lipped secrecy concerning final bounds of the district and reserved as much latitude of purchase as possible. If one group of property owners demanded an exorbitant price, he could make a show, at least, of looking elsewhere. Washington created as much of an air of buyer’s independence as he could. After he reached the area and examined the various tracts, he called the landholders together on March 29 and explained that Georgetown and Carrollsburg might defeat their own ends by rivalry or excessive prices for property desired by the Federal government. The case was not one of competition but of cooperation. Together, the towns did not cover more ground than would be required for the city. The wisdom of this counsel was for the moment irresistible. Next day Washington was informed that all the principal owners would accept the terms he proposed. A total of between three and five thousand acres was to be ceded to the United States, with these provisos: the whole was to be included in the Federal City and laid off in lots; alternate lots were to remain the property of the former proprietors, who were to donate ground for streets and alleys; for the land taken by the government, twenty-five dollars an acre was to be paid. Much pleased with this, Washington gave instructions for making the survey and for other action necessary to execute the agreement.
For his long journey through the South, a region of notoriously bad, sandy roads, Washington had prepared carefully a list of distances and contingencies; and he fixed precisely the number of days he was to spend in each of the principal towns he planned to visit. The whole arrangement he termed his “line of march,” which he was to follow with no other companions than Major Jackson and the servants. Had he been superstitious he would have doubted at the very outset the wisdom of his venture, because in crossing the Occoquan, on April 7, the day of his start south, one of the animals harnessed to his new, light chariot fell into the stream, fully harnessed, and so excited the others that all went overboard. Quick work prevented loss.
At Fredericksburg, where he spent two nights and a day, he had a second disquieting experience: John Lewis, the only surviving son of Fielding Lewis by his first marriage, told of a recent interview with Patrick Henry, who made no secret of his financial interest in the so-called Yazoo Company. When Lewis had inquired how the company expected to deal with the Indians, Henry had said that an appeal would be made to Congress for protection. If this was denied, the Yazoo proprietors would organize their own force under Brig. Gen. Charles Scott. That was an ugly threat, if it was not mere gasconade. “Schemes of that sort,” Washington reflected a little later, “must involve the country in trouble—perhaps in blood.”
A third unpleasantness awaited Washington in Richmond, where he received ceremonious welcome April 11, and, along with salute and salutation, mail from Philadelphia. Included was a letter in which Lear remarked that Attorney General Randolph was in danger of losing slaves brought from Virginia because of a Pennsylvania law which provided that adult bondsmen would be free six months after their owner, moving into the State, became a citizen. Washington thought the difference between his situation and that of Randolph gave reasonable assurance that the law did not apply to him. In order to appear in Pennsylvania courts, Randolph had become temporarily a citizen of Pennsylvania; Washington had not. At the same time, the President felt that someone might “entice” his servants and that the Negroes might become “insolent” if they thought themselves entitled to their freedom. His old regard for his property asserted itself in the letter he wrote Lear:
As all [the slaves of the Presidential establishment] except Hercules and Paris are dower negroes, it behooves me to prevent the emancipation of them, otherwise I shall not only lose the use of them but may have them to pay for. If upon taking good advice, it is found expedient to send them back to Virginia, I wish to have it accomplished under pretext that may deceive both them and the public; and none, I think, would so effectually do this as Mrs. Washington coming to Virginia next month. . . . This would naturally bring her maid and Austin, and Hercules under the idea of coming home to cook whilst we remained there, might be sent on in the stage. Whether there is occasion for this or not, according to the result of your inquiries or issue the thing as it may, I request that these sentiments and this advice may be known to none but yourself and Mrs. Washington.
Slavery, in his eyes, was a wasteful nuisance, but so long as it existed in a country where the sentiment of honest men was divided over it, he would safeguard his rights with the least public offence.
Ceremonies in Richmond followed a familiar pattern and did not over-crowd the two days and a half that he gave to the capital of his native state. With Gov. Beverley Randolph and the directors he examined the canal the James River Navigation Company was constructing around the falls and had opportunity of talking with Col. Edward Carr
ington, his appointee as Marshal of the District of Virginia. The Colonel thought the people well disposed to the Federal government and ready to approve action properly explained to them. Washington heard this with much satisfaction. One of the reasons for making the tour was his wish to ascertain at first hand what the people thought of the government.
From Richmond the President drove to Petersburg on the morning of the fourteenth and there received all the honors the town could bestow. He had been warned that the next stages of his journey would be “dreary” and was not unprepared for the full, flat pinelands through which he had to pass, mile on mile. Although he soon came into a region new to him, he found little of interest except the river valleys and the possible improvement of navigation. With stops at Halifax, Virginia, and Tarboro, North Carolina, Washington proceeded to Newbern, where he had what he described as “exceedingly good lodgings.” The welcome fitted the quarters, but the next stretch of the journey, the long one to Wilmington, was almost bad enough to efface the pleasant memories of the hospitable town at the confluence of the Neuse and Trent Rivers.
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